Nomad

I watch myself move

From place to place, leaving footprints

That gradually disappear

Languages - learned and unlearned

In a span of 43 years,

Leaving only images

In the form of memories and of old photos.

And even those images fade, lost

Somewhere between my growing up

From a child to this quiet wary adult

Tired of being redefined

Tired of dropping one identity after another

Losing my originality and shine

Solitude

Sometimes...

Solitude scares me.

Not because I am afraid 

Of being alone, me and I,

But because 

I inadvertently allow me 

To admit to myself 

that I like it much, too much.

Are You Happy Now World ?

I know I have changed. I can see it. Feel it. I am Conscious about it. Don’t like it. Yet letting it happen to me.
To survive, I have made my soul change too now. Harsh words. Abuses. Rudeness. Shrewdness. Things I have never known. Things I have never done. Things I do now. Just to survive. My simple background. My simple upbringing. My manners. My endurance, all went for a toss. I learnt it all from you. I am now, one of you.

The Ups & Downs

These days, life just seems like a series of 'ups' and 'downs', which sometimes follow each other far too quickly for me to keep up.
The 'downs' tire me..the 'ups' - even more so.

When did happiness become something you had to work for? When did happiness become something you had to bend over backwards to earn? When did happiness start to cost you peace of mind?
When I think back to my days in Port Moresby, a part of me inwardly weeps for those days.

Just Like That

I want to cry. To weep bitterly, to let the imprisoned tears be finally free - let them escape and through them somehow find my own sense of relief, of freedom. Free myself of this choking feeling, free myself of this burden which I feel I have been carrying around since forever. I have no apparent reason to cry but since when have tears asked for a reason? The agony of tears is a secret they guard well. 

Untitled

I have grown. A part of me has been irrevocably lost over the past two years. And a part of me grieves it. Some of me believes I am still the child I was, deep down. I'm not. I do not have the time nor the solitude to make amends to myself