Que Sera, Sera

What do you want her to be when she grows up? What would you like her to pursue? I am left with so many unaccomplished dreams that I’d want her to pursue everything that I like, yet every time I look into her eyes I realise I am facing a different person. She is a part of me but she is nothing like me. She is harbouring unrealised dreams and there are many things that fascinate her, she is only 1. How can I dream anything for her? I can’t, rather I shouldn’t.
I want my baby to become anything that her heart desires. I want her to pursue happiness. She can be a princess today and she can be a sailor tomorrow. She can be a scientist today and a swimmer tomorrow, but for now she can be the child who doesn’t have to know limits. She can be the girl who doesn’t know the difference between her and the boy who lives across the street. She will know the differences as she grows old anyway but the only difference I will teach her for now is to differentiate between the good and the bad. I will teach her that people may try to take advantage of her and not because she is a girl but because there are bad people in this world.
She is allowed to skin her knee and she is also allowed to break someone else’s bones if needed. Yes, she is mine but even I won’t owe her. I want her to know that she will be allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. She is lucky for even her dad will support her, spoil her. I want her to know that we will give her the best in our reach but in return we would expect her to value it, for there are many unprivileged.
I have dreams for her, so many of them but eventually she will realise her dreams when she grows old and I will have to accept. Today she has started walking, tomorrow I wouldn’t want her to run away from me. I hope I can be the mother, I think I should be.

To the Men Who Lie

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

There are men that knit stories of affection,

Stories of love, and stories of dedication.

They make you believe that you’re important than their life,

Then they tell the same thing to the next in line.

Yes, you’re like season and seasons always change,

There’s never one constant, but after every change, it rains.

Yes, feelings are important and they feel too much,

That’s also one reason why one woman, is seldom enough!

They lie unsurprisingly and it’s difficult to tell,

After all, they bind you with their bewitching spell.

They are dangerous, than danger itself,

Because they haven’t yet discovered themselves.

Every woman is nice as long as she falls for the charms,

But if she questions something, it raises an alarm.

Such men like their women timid,

That are meek and unarguably stupid,

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

They believe heartily that nothing is permanent,

And that’s their reason, for the short arrangements.

To the men that lie, we know who you are,

The times have changed, your lies have travelled afar.

To the men who lie, know our hearts have fortified,

The declaration of love, no longer makes us blind.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

 

 

Circle of Life

I have been running around in circles,

With no set destination in mind,

The world around progressed too much,

& I got pulled far behind…

Circle of life, Changes through the years, walking out of the past, bidding goodbye to memories, memories, past

While I waited to live, the life almost got over &

I realized the mortal I was meant to be,

When I stood at the crossover,

The traffic of insecurities jammed the heart,

The web of memories fogged the path.

Life needed a closure I realised.

Of all the weary mistakes,

I understood, I was still paying the price.

Acclimatizing was even more difficult,

The world brimming with youth, and me much older…

Every day I elude the unacquainted smiles,

I avoid the greetings made by the passer-by’s.

It pierces my heart, to know that I don’t fit in any longer,

I try to act brave but my heart isn’t any stronger…

The day progresses and then comes to a halt,

& the tears wash away the anxieties at fall.

I want to give up desperately and not get up at all,

I still force the wrecked carcass to crawl.

Why, I still pretend I ask myself,

Why doesn’t this wretched journey ever end?

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya
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Heartache

It has been difficult to hold on & I am really trying my best,
But you don’t seem to care anymore,
Something has caused an unrest…

 We are like an age-old citadel,
 That looks admirable from the outside,
 We have been cited as an example, to the walls that are still being laid…
 Only our heart knows, what it took to be resilient.
 Only we are aware of the times we mended the walls discreetly…
 The rough weathers tried to take us down,
 Sometimes, we gave up on everything, but each other…
 For, that’s all we ever had.
 For as long as I reminisce,
 I always found you by my side….
 It has been difficult to hold on & I am really trying my best,
 But you don’t seem to care anymore,
 Something has caused an unrest…
 I realise you’re finally turning into stone,
 So that the walls don’t crumble away,
 I hope I can bolster our damaged hearts,
 I hope we can still find a way.
Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

At my narcissistic best

I realise I am conceited, I have been told so.
I know my reality, maybe you don’t know.
My struggles smothered me,
And lies soothed me at a time when the possible was slipping away from my fingers…

Most of what I see is a mirage,
The reality obscure and imagination captivating
The diaphanous glass lets me touch my nebulous reflection,
It’s faint yet overbearing.
I realise I am conceited, I have been told so.
I know my reality, maybe you don’t know.
My struggles smothered me,
And lies soothed me at a time when the possible was slipping away from my fingers…
I don’t display much, and what you perceive is a lie.
My rules may be slightly outrageous and possession extreme,
But my life has been blotched, yours I understand is pristine.
Don’t weigh me on the same scale,
My worries have made me heftier.
I am better than you I believe, even though my wallet is emptier.
I may not react to anguish in the same manner as you…
I have learnt to live like this, no matter how crude!
Judge me, criticize me and call me what you do,
But remember that my world is my own,
& my feelings too!!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya


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Under the Thriving Brown

I was bounded by the soil, when they buried me deep.
For years I was undisturbed,
Then one day he woke me up, from the profound sleep.

I think its sunset, I sense he is around…
I wait like I constantly do,
Under the thriving brown.

He writes poetries and sometimes he narrates them to me,
I just nod or smile in approval,
I am not even sure he ever perceives…

I know so much about him, and that he doesn’t know,
I know who crushed his heart,
The girl he planned to propose.

He always sits on a bench tarnished with age,
Sometimes he sits on the grass and
Plays with its blades.

I wonder if he knows, that I exist too,
I have always loved him,
Maybe not in form, but in a different hue…

He is withdrawn, and hardly stable.
There is much pain in his prose,
Makes him distant and unapproachable…

On some days I have wanted to come out of hiding,
To tell him, how good he is, but I can’t…
My soul will follow him through but my being shan’t!

I was bounded by the soil, when they buried me deep.
For years I was undisturbed,
Then one day he woke me up, from the profound sleep.

He doesn’t know yet, that he sits on a grave,
I don’t intend to scare him, I feel he is brave,

I know he won’t fancy a carcass with no name,
But this deceased heart will still admire him,
With absolutely no aim!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

Winter is here

I find myself in

winters,

Not the one that’s dark and bleak,

But the one that knocks at the window,

Or caresses me when I am asleep.

I like the windy days, and the cold, that it transpires,

Yes, I am much in

love with winters,

I love the

wood and bonfires.

I feel love in the gush,

it’s the wind narrating stories,

Even the blade of grass stands still,

As it awaits the

dancing fairies…

I am a winter person,

As I get the warmth in chill…

Sweaters can’t contain me

My heart bleeds to see the

hills

I find myself in winters,

When I am back home, and it rains…

I forget the sorrows

I held for long,

I forget it ever pained.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya