I’m jealous of my own existence. Whatever I have today, it’s because of her; it’s for her. Nothing belongs to me, yet I’m proud of what I have. To this day, and happily counting, I’m her sole counselor. I’ve consoled her on countless occasions. I’ve seen, shared every single dream she’s ever had. I’ve been inspiring her, supporting her in her every endeavor. I’ve told, “It’s as important to stop and rest as it is to stand up to a cause.” I’ve been the only support of hers for years, and she’s relied on me equally. She knows the importance of my existence. Even if she doesn’t value my presence, or so I think, she registers and acknowledges my absence. Day in and day out, she needs me. She wants me. We’ve numerous memories together. She cuddles me, caresses me, irritates me, embraces me. More so, she dreams with me, imagines with me, rests and wakes up with me, attests me, uses and at times abuses me. She loves me, hates me, but the best part is, she shares her tears with me. I’m her companion when she detests everyone else. I’ve lived through those sleepless nights when she has reached me with her tears. When she tears me down, it just tears me down. Her comfort, her confidence, and her victory, what else do I want? After all, I’m her pillow. And her story is my story. I think I’m jealous of my existence. Very jealous.
I’m glad to announce the release of Deccan Reveries: Pune Poets Anthology. Of all invaluable contributions from many established, known authors, writers, and poets, is also my humble contribution of two poems.
I’d be honored if you could please check out the book and buy it using this affiliate link
Also, I’d look forward to listening to or reading your opinion on ‘Wait Until Dawn, O’ Muse‘ and ‘The Silent Wail,’ which have been cherry-picked by the team of the esteemed editors.
I’d like to dedicate this post to Juhi Gupte, who is both a dear friend and the editor of the book. And a special mention to all those who have turned this tiny collective effort into an anthology, the publisher and, you, dear readers.
The inspiration for this poem comes from my undying love for writing. Despite how people dislike and despise my habit of looking at everything through the lens of writing—or hate what I do—I continue to write. Someone asked a simple question some time back. Both the question and the answer to it had a profound impact on me, for it is when I addressed the question, I realized how much I love writing. The question was, Will you continue to write even if you never rewarded for it? And I replied in a ‘Yes.’
I stand by the mirror, Yet again; seeing a myriad Expressions on the blank face; Of documents that I left behind.
I stare void, yet again. Lost. Overwrought. I wish I could go back. Rewind.
I argue, yet again. Taking an umbrage Dare you disrespect my love Even in your mind.
I stand stupefied, Yet again; knowing that Cluelessness is temporary That I must face the grind.
For I soon will cherish The moment of realization. The encounter with words! It will be rapturous!
For yet again I plunge, Swim to explore and From deep within, bring ashore Thoughts. What a find!