By Malvika Vazalwar
There’s a burning flame
deep in a dark hollow
that won’t flicker or die out
whom a thousand nights
won’t agree to swallow.
I feel its rage aching inside me every day,
many a sleepless nights but it won’t die away.
Watching it from so close, I feel so restless,
for this flame could smolder even the snow to ashes.
I question my memory, I question my faith
How could I let someone light this flame?
For warmth it gave me for a moment or two
but it flared wild and grew wicked before I knew.
With the birth of this flame, countless beats my heart did lose;
flung all gates open for a tempest to stomp off its rule.
The one who lit this flame simply walked away
leaving behind a blurred portrait of my yesterday.
I read those convincing words,
remember the assuring smiles,
quiver at the assertive promises and wonder
how triumphant must feel the miles;
leaping and soaring in between, pushing us away with mighty thrusts,
so that I can’t recall ever saying the words `we` or `us`.
Those expressions, a good game of words,
only, I begin to accept them as a part of growing up;
an innocent part supple enough to mould the rigid days to come -
that silently surrendered to the part when you are done growing-up,
a part that sacrifices, allows you to call it a mistake, a lesson learnt;
too mere to be longed for, too far away ever to be reached,
laughed away and shrugged at while narrating your life’s tale
demeaning its right, its one little wish to be thanked,
acknowledged, or to be smiled at -
like an illegitimate child sulking all the time,
brilliant, beautiful but with no name
and whose parents want to forget
and bury his being with no hint of shame,
and they don’t bother, don’t dare to look into his questioning eyes.
The one who grows up carrying a moaning flame within,
this is that child who carries a full grown but invisible beast inside,
like the one I have in my burning hollow,
once a heart, it’s walls scraped now, a memory dwells in ruins …
so that’s what remains when someone’s just gone,
No, not a wrong friend, but when a friend does wrong.