footnotes in the word document

 how much of acumen can you use to disguise what you really mean? in that context, almost all crime is justified. 

what a biased judiciary.

here, i do not have a defense.

yet i am told to accept a life i do not deserve.

no.

in front of this distorted jury, i shall say

i will not serve a sentence that i do not deserve.

i plead not guilty.

because all my crimes are well committed.

i rarely make a mess of my conscience.

i am nothing like them.

nothing like you.

.

people with big words are not very brave. esoteric jargon is mostly uninteresting, and once in a while misleadingly plausible.

my horizons extend farther than they ever will. and this incapacity scares them.

sometimes i feel bad for doing things people wouldn't think twice before doing to me. 

maybe not even once.

sometimes i think i could have done more for those that doubt their originality every second.

those that protect themselves from me.

sometimes i wonder if people remember everything they have said to me like i do.

because from where i stand 

it is laughable that 

even for a second

i considered it 

to be

genuine.

i am like that dog on a chair floating in the ocean.

for once i would like to scream out loud -

you didn't even know me.

you could have left me alone !

.

when i was a kid i used to have this really cool book about egypt. i think everyone had an egypt phase.

and i had a hieroglyphics encrypting paper thing with me all the time in this pink purse i carried around. and i passed around notes in hieroglyphics.

eventually everybody around me found it annoying. and i was already the mocked quiet girl who got left alone a lot. 

so i stopped.

all my life i wanted to be left alone. 

and there were these people who thought i had the solution to their undying misery within me.

and they refused to accept that i didn't.

that i wasn't disfigured poetry or untouched stardust or a collectible.

that i was ordinary. 

and my happiest at that.

.

there is no love in any of this. 

because every story ends with going back to the people who dispose of you. treat you like a liability. with a shallow justification that it is only my father's negligence i will call love.

and you can break all the walls, be it the 4th or the 5th or the 6th. 

and you can say the things you didn't say before, go back to the sentences you didn't already read through, looking for a half hearted explanation you could give yourself.

and you can do all the things the could-have-beens could have done.

and you can play the game one last time.

but you'll still realise

that there was no love in any of this.

you'll let out a sigh of defeat,

which will perhaps signify more of an ending than you could've ever given.

and 

you smile, after a long long 

long

time.

.

all the houses in the neighbourhood are dressed in pujo fairy bulbs, and it is raining after a while. it is an annual attempt at scourging any hint of joy hidden in a city coming out of familiarity.

same sounds. same colours.

the same scent of stale pepsi

cheap perfume

and the old

oh this time last year

accompanied with some raunchy song playing on the speakers.

at early midnight i sit in the verandah with the yellow glow of the tunibulbs.

and i'm listening to the one song i'd like no one to touch.

মেঘ পিওনের ব্যাগের ভেতর মন খারাপের দিস্তা ,

মন খারাপ হলে কুয়াশা হয় ব্যাকুল হলে তিস্তা ।

মন খারাপের খবর আসে বনপাহাড়ের দেশে ,

চৌকোণও সব বাক্সে

যেথায় যেমন থাক সে

মন খারাপের খবর পরে দারুণ ভালোবেসে ।

.

it takes a lot of violence to be this gentle.

it doesn't come with the absence of it, but rather with an abundance of it.

with all my gentleness, i'd rather die than be seen making something i have been fighting against all my life, my religion.

i think i deserve a soft epilogue, now.

something tells me i have lived a thousand lifetimes by 17.

.

often when i am very sad, i hum to myself very low. so low only i can hear it. 

and the sad heart giggles a little.

oh sweetheart, when will you learn ?

আমার বিচ্ছিরি এক তারা

তুমি নাও না কথা কানে

তোমার কিসের এতো তাড়া?

রাস্তা পার হবে সাবধানে

.

                         “Wolves Have Not Been Seen in Maine for Years” - Jorge Mascarenhas