A wall of ice

Perfunctory calls, customary messages. Anything beyond, causes unnecessary duress. Sure, we’re bound together by family, by ancestral ties. But it’s now metamorphosed into an equation we no longer recognize. 

We never feel at home with each other, there’s a facade that envelopes our conversations. There’s a forced politeness, a pretense that overrides our actions. 

We don’t miss each other’s company, because, hey, we never had much of it anyway. We don’t cherish our time together, maybe that’s why, the memories I have of us are always in disarray.

We don’t take liberties with each other, we remember each other’s birthdays based on calendar reminders, heck, we’re mere upgrades from a stranger. We don’t share our failures, our fears, our flaws, we’re just too uneasy in each other’s presence to discuss our thoughts. 

You and I, we belong in worlds that are passing trains, parallel plains; we may share a meal, a hello-hi, but we’ll never be each other’s ally. 

Because we’ve gotten used to each other’s silence, we’re okay with our absence filling the void, we’re comfortable with our ballooning aloofness. 

Blood may be thicker than water, but it’s definitely thinner than the wall of ice we’ve built between us.

Annapurani Vaidyanathan 

Their wish ain’t your command

There will always be a tear, a blot, a gap, a pitstop. There will always be knots to untie and problems to solve.

And then, there will always be thingamabobs who wouldn’t care a jot, but will claim that you could’ve done a much better job.

Yet, their opinions will always take precedence over yours. And it is because of them that you’d let your dreams take a million detours.

Why, oh why do you want to define your worth based on their attitudes? Why do you always desperately want to read their faces and their moods?

Why do you want to read into their smiles, why do you want to read between the lines, why do you want to find meaning in their emoticons? Why do you search for commas after their full stops, when you know their sentences ain’t going to be oxymorons?

Why do you want to get yourself walked all over and then drown in despair?

Get over them. Move on. Their displeasure ain’t yours to repair.

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

How do you believe there’s light at the end of the tunnel, how do you stay positive

when everything around you screams “What if?”?

when, all your life, you’ve been told to build a backup for your backup?
when you’ve only known to accept and live with changes abrupt?

when you’ve been taught to not believe in luck, in promises, in chances and the risks they imbue?
when you just don’t know how to rely on anybody else but you?

when you’ve grown up learning that life has no time for whimsy,
that life isn’t what the movies show it to be, that reality indeed is a pretty different story?

when you’ve been up most nights of your time on earth wondering what went wrong and why nothing came about as planned,
what shot does optimism, does that sliver of silver lining really stand?

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

Feelings I never want to let go of

Butterflies in my stomach at seizing an opportunity I set my heart on / A night of sleep with all my worries gone / Anticipation that builds up as I see my dream becoming a reality / Spending an evening, uninterrupted, reading the works of Agatha Christie / Getting a whiff of the newspaper that’s fresh off the press, with the ink still new / Finding that light to keep me going even when the rest of my world is askew / Walking into the decade-old bookstore at the corner of the street and going crazy / Making the library my home and reading as many books as the day will allow me / Scribbling away words and thoughts every now and then in my diary, and watching them magically take the form of poetry.

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

May you please help me understand why

there’s a smile plastered on your face but you’re cursing under your breath / every time someone confronts your actions you digress / your words always differ from your actions / you change your response based on the audience / you’re sweet to my face, but you drive a knife to my back / your promises are vague and you impulsively choose to backtrack / you’re always two-faced / you never mean anything you say?

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

What can you buy with money?

As kids, as teens, as undergraduates, we’re always told to get good grades. Because, the higher our numbers, the better our pay. We’re told that it’s alright to sacrifice a few hours of rest, because it’ll all be good when we see that additional zero on our paycheck.

Now turn all the mirrors around if you have to and put a lid on the coffers. And tell me, does money really end your misery; to all your problems, does money truly have all the answers?

Can money buy you time? Can it bring back your youth, your prime?

Can it teach you to be graceful when you’re losing? Can it teach you to be patient when there’s a storm brewing? Can it teach you to be kind to someone who’s hurting?

Can it buy you trust? Can it teach you to get by and adjust?

Can it get people to have your back? Can it buy you the courage to take flak?

Can it give you the strength to brush aside a slight? Can money get people to willingly treat you right?

Okay, so they peel oranges for you

but would they hold you together when you’re falling apart? Would they be brave enough to embrace your scars? Would they stand up for you in a crowd, in front of people they know and love? Would they have your back when you’re away, when you’re not out and about? Would they just take your word – no questions asked, no lingering doubt? Would they patiently lend an ear every time you want to rant or think out loud?

Would they be a sport and indulge in your eccentricities? Would they warm up the long-forgotten toast lying in your study, would they know if you’ve not eaten and you’re hungry?

Would they celebrate your wins, just as much as your kin? Would they stick by you even when you’re breaking?

Would they believe in you even when you don’t (especially when you don’t)? Would they try endlessly to ensure that, with them around, you always feel right at home?

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

A moment of peace

When I was growing up, I wanted to make a difference,
I wanted to bring meaning to my existence,
I wanted to dream a new dream each morning,
I wanted surprises that would sweep me off my feet without warning,
I wanted money, I wanted to travel the world, I wanted a roof that I built over my head,
I didn’t just want food every day, I wanted a real spread.

After three decades of staying alive,
And struggling every day to thrive,
My wants have changed, as have my whims and fancies,
Don’t get me wrong, I still want the food, the travel and all the monies,
But I now ache…for eight-hours of sleep,
The kind that’s undisturbed, dreamless and deep,
I now ache for a spine,
The kind that would bend over backwards when I need to fight for what’s mine,
I now ache for breakfasts with a side of serendipity,
The kind where I don’t have to worry about my phone’s dying battery,
I now ache…for a moment of peace,
The kind when I don’t have to remember how to breathe.

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

Everything in its place

That antique chair in mahogany wood lying in the farthest corner of the room must sit in the seventh tile to my right. Just beside the coffee table that’s a shade between ivory and pristine white.

The books on the centerpiece should always go on the shelves to my left – ordered first by color (VIBGYOR), then by height and by size, and then by the last name of the author.

The cups need to go into the drawer next to the packets of flour and dough, not a rack above or below.

There’s a hint of a tea stain on the towel, let’s wash it with white vinegar first, rinse it in detergent next, and then, let’s get it pressed?

The cables behind the telly need to be tied together, we can’t have them running into each other.

The alarm has to go off at 5 each morning, by default. Only numbers that add up to four can be the combination for each vault.

The pre-evenings must be spent on the terrace, the crystal in the lobby needs to be amorphous, the top cupboard in the study always has to have a blank canvas… Oh, and until there’s a place for everything and everything in its place, my heart will be nothing but anxious.

Annapurani Vaidyanathan

The world works differently in my head

The world works differently in my head. It’s a place that gives everybody ample strength so their words never go unsaid. 

There’s something about the people here: they’re like chalk and cheese yet there’s no urge to please; there’s no race to appease. People here aren’t insecure, they’re inexplicably self-assured. They don’t climb ladders in this place, they only build bridges here. And they inadvertently place highs and lows on the same tier. 

In here, self-doubt is forced to take a hike because we never have to think through our asks twice. And usually, everybody is always content and everything always seems to suffice. 

In here, everybody is somebody’s first choice. There’s room for everybody and everybody gets to have a voice. There are opinions and critiques and brickbats and bouquets, but they’re all in your face. So, nobody needs to read between the lines and nobody ever feels out of place.

In here, we don’t pretend or play “nice”. Because we know what’s in our hearts will always shine through our eyes.