Her Books

Her table is adorned with a variety of books kept in a disarray.

Books that take her away.

Away from a reality that she doesn't want to live.

There she is, lying in her bed, totally worn out, as if her bones would never bend, her muscles would never stretch, and breathing, too, would slowly become an arduous task.

The pages are screaming, calling her name. Her bedroom is filled with the aroma of new and old pages. 

The screams get loud. Her books that have always been her respite, are dying for her to open them with her curious glittering eyes and a long sigh of calm. Even though the screams reach her ears, they fail to make her sit and pick one book from her huge, messy collection. 

How very exhausted she is! 

The mixed scent of the beige-like crinkly pages and the new fresh ones, reach her nostrils. For a moment, she feels alive again.

But even this mighty fragrance that once used to make her jump with passion and joy, fails to persuade her to get up and open a book.

Oh, how very tired she is of struggling, of toiling, of trying to solve the unsolvable chaos of life, and of attempting to face the overwhelming challenges of the real world! 

Oh, how she dies every day to sit in her bed, cozily under the covers, and choose a book from her huge pile of treasure and forget herself in the stories of the characters who begin to live less in those books and more in her heart, the moment she starts meeting them in her world.

—Amrit Versha

Society and Comparison

Even before the advent of social media, society has always managed to keep us pissed off. Don't most of our problems exist because we care about what people think or because we compare our lives with theirs? Many of us would deny this because our ego doesn't agree with this idea. We feel hurt while looking at people buying big cars and bungalows, going on trips every other month, getting married to their loved ones, having a happy family, or in short, living a beautiful life. We don't want to feel so, but we do. We think that they have a successful life, and we don't, and then came social media to worsen this situation. On seeing the perfect posts of different people on social media, we start feeling envious of them, even when we barely know them, just because their lives look like a dream that we want to live. Social media, more than motivating us, has given rise to negativity because it makes us think about our failures, about the situations that cannot be changed, and about how cruel life has been to us and not to others. It makes us feel like we are the only ones who are suffering, which is not true actually. Understanding that since we are living on earth, none of us can be free of challenges and troubles, can be our saviour. Problems can be different but every single person on this planet is fighting. Yes, we are not alone. We are all in the same boat. We all know that comparison is cancerous, but, at the same time, it's not easy to stop comparing your lives with the lives of others. You just can't give your mind a command to stop doing it. The only way to overcome this unhealthy comparison is to realise that the world is full of unbearable sufferings. Samuel Beckett once said, "You are on earth. There is no cure for that." We are born to endure, fight, and overcome our difficulties in our own ways, and if we want to survive, we must love, accept, appreciate, and help.

—Amrit Versha

When They Judge Me

Whenever I open up to someone, I become vulnerable. I don't keep secrets. I wear my heart on my sleeve. But it saddens me every time when my transparency makes me fall prey to others' snap judgement. A question begins to echo in my head: Why did I trust someone one more time? I curse myself for disrespecting my own privacy. I shouldn't have let my guarded heart break into wilderness again. An urge to distance myself from the crowd flows through my veins. Soon, a familiar feeling visits my heart. It hits me hard when I realise once again that I don't belong anywhere.

—Amrit Versha

Toxic Love

Screen of my phone flashes, and there, I see your name. All the vibrant dreams of my ambitious mind appear so dull now. My world of thoughts has got confined to you. The vivid visions of future that my wishful eyes used to see have vanished now. There stands in front of me a path so blur. My tranquil heart with a bliss so rare now pounds restlessly. How can a single message from you be so powerful? The turmoil in my heart has left me perplexed. What your name does to my soul is purely toxic. 

So, is it really love? 

An emotion that chases away my peace.

An emotion that brings the worst out of me.

An emotion that drives me insane.

—Amrit Versha

Forever is a beautiful lie that we blindly believe in. Our hearts are so delicate and vulnerable that we try to keep them safe under the armour of 'always'. But, one day, reality enters and turns this pretty lie into an ugly truth, and then, with our broken hearts, we realise that even forevers are temporary.

—Amrit Versha

Holy Disaster

In a flaming outburst of fury, I picked up a beautiful flower vase from my table, and crashed it to the floor. My burning eyes savoured the thrill of the spectacle. When I saw a flawless work of art crack into a thousand fragments, my broken soul rejoiced. Through the anarchy of those perfect ruins echoed the disorder of my heart. How peculiar it was to find peace in loss and relief in damage! The storm of my rage ended as a flood of tears, and this overflow of grief swept away my distress.

—Amrit Versha

Without You

Maa, sometimes, when I look at your declining health, I start imagining my life without you. I paint a picture in my head, which is not at all bright.

I would fill my room with your belongings—your clothes, your bangles, your bindis, your purse, your mobile phone—all the things that would remind me of you. Maybe this would be my way to keep you close. I would often smell your clothes to feel your presence around me. Missing your bittersweet taunts, I would scold myself every now and then. Missing the dishes you made, I would cook daily. On my bad days, I would caress my face, imagining my hands to be yours, and on my good days, I would look at your photo and bless myself on your behalf.

Mom, there would never be a day when I would not shed a tear, wishing you were here. Without you, a part of my heart would always be empty, and every day, in desperation, I would hope to meet you in heaven.

—Amrit Versha