Author: waakiye

  • Nostalgia for Childhood: Living Without Screens

    Nostalgia for Childhood: Living Without Screens

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you remember life before the internet?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    You’re not gonna believe that I was curled up in my bed,
    thinking as the clock stuck 00:00 hours,
    I should read something before going to sleep,
    (Trying to induce a habit of reading..)
    As I picked a book from my collection,
    it was either Khalil Gibran’s collection,
    or,
    it was metamorphosis by Kafka which I bought,
    the night before i.e. Sunday night from a roadside book seller…

    Before I could even focus my eyes on the words written on the first page of metamorphosis,
    It felt blurry,
    remembering little,
    the character turned into bug,
    there was a description,
    how he looked at himself,
    who he was,
    looking at the picture he hung that he cut out of the magazine…

    that’s all I could remember,
    the first page that to barely,
    I thought to myself,
    is this the same mind that read pages upon pages during its prime…?

    As I put the book in its place,
    a wall mounted drawer,
    and tried to fall asleep,
    but,
    I couldn’t,
    I was using 3 devices simultaneously before,
    my phone checking the messages,
    getting updates from a brother who’s fighting an addiction,
    and doing a splendid job keeping at it,
    Another one,
    who just came back from giving a competitive exam,
    and has had a long day,
    requiring a full day’s sleep to be in working condition again,
    another one who opened a new office and is dying from traveling as the commute has added 3 hours which he has to steal from these 24 hours…

    My laptop for penning down my thoughts and ideas,
    in the WordPress app,
    as a few ideas flew by me,
    one of which I explored last night,
    and wrote a prose in a language commonly spoken here,
    about a girl who is held in boundations,
    and isn’t welcomed by her maternal home,
    in a setting that is absolutely heartbreaking….

    My wireless sound bar,
    which played one of the favorite playlists that has songs from Panjabi culture,
    some Hindi songs and Gazals or a collection of old poetry,
    which brought me immense joy,
    and every once in a while,
    a new song would pop in and I’d have to change it,
    and remove it from my playlist…

    Surrounded by these things,
    I thought of a life before all of this,
    these devices,
    these apps,
    these screens and,
    it took me back to a time when we had those buttoned phones and nothing more…

    I remember,
    getting bored of playing snake game and then going out to play with my friends in the colony we grew up in,
    we used to run after each other,
    play hide and seek,
    hopscotch because we had these sandstone blocks outside our home,
    which would make it way easier to prepare and play around,
    but,
    those memories were blemishing,
    maybe I forgot some of it…

    We used to wake up early,
    watch our grandparents light an incense stick in prayer room,
    after then watching them read the newspaper on the rocking chair,
    sipping on their piping hot tea,
    occasionally taking a bite of biscuit or rusk that was kept right next to their cup and saucer…

    I remember rushing to take a bath,
    after that hurriedly chomping down breakfast,
    it was something light like poha,
    or a paratha (Indian flatbread with filling),
    something that we all loved,
    after that going to school where we used to enjoy our friendship,
    meeting those who we liked from the bottom of our hearts,
    some crushes,
    some whom we adored,
    and found cute…

    Our parents went to their work,
    father returning home late around 8 or 9,
    mother returning home early and preparing evening snacks for us kids,
    and preparing dinner for the people in the house,
    and finally getting back to bed,
    late around 11 pm or 23:00 hours…

    Occasionally going out to buy sweets like jalebis,
    or something,
    never missing the night walk,
    staring at the starry sky and the moon,
    as we used to walk back home,
    tiredness kicking in as soon as we reached home,
    and falling asleep under,
    the rotating fan and occasional cooler blowing cold air which turned into hot after it ran out of water,
    and then replacing it with new water after cleaning it to remove the foul smell…

    The respect that we held for our elders and the stories that we heard from their own mouth,
    that too very keenly,
    shaping our beliefs and moral compasses,
    without many distractions,
    we were able to focus better;
    and having a genuine relationship because of face-to-face conversations,
    and learning about our culture and heritage from the word of mouth,
    rather than having to search google or YouTube just like these…

    A time to remember and cherish it was…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Those were the good days,
    we keep on telling ourselves,
    as the generation that grew up playing outside,
    before the technological advancement that made our lives,
    Easier yet more chaos filled…

    Remembering,
    crying to our parents to play outside,
    our eyes feel watery this day too,
    But,
    seeing the roads empty,
    break our heart shattering them into little pieces,
    a history of fun gone,
    replaced by technology…

    That crying before going to school,
    and the tiredness that surrounded afterwords,
    that sleeping after coming home,
    or those time spent,
    during exam period,
    cramming everything into this little brain of ours…

    Then pouring it all into these exam papers,
    but,
    remembering those times brings nostalgia,
    that keeps us from forgetting those good times…

    Going out with our parents after they returned home from work,
    grabbing ice cream as they talked to each other,
    worries about our well-being,
    our school life,
    and their personal life too,
    remembering them talking to each other we used to feel happy,
    that we were blessed with such caring and worried parents,

    “The Simpler times”
  • How Writing Transformed My Self-Perception

    How Writing Transformed My Self-Perception

    Daily writing prompt
    What are you good at?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…!

    I woke up late and I saw this prompt,
    and thought to myself,
    “Am I good at something…?”…
    And I stared at the rotating fan,
    for an hour thinking of inducing a thought…

    Am I a good daughter/son to my mother…?
    Am I a good aunt/uncle to the kids that surround me…?
    Am I a good sister/brother to those who are around me…?
    Am I a good friend to those who call me theirs…?
    Am I even a good person,
    or people around me just tolerate me…?
    Am I…..?

    The reality blemished when I realized that I’m ruthless,
    when it comes to myself ,
    I don’t give myself a chance,
    I keep myself in well bound time,
    meticulously planning each and every moment,
    prioritizing time,
    but making none for myself…

    I took up art as a kid and left it in the middle,
    I picked up table tennis, basketball, badminton and gave up all of them in the middle,
    I won’t say that I got good at them,
    but,
    just gave up before I could or I met an invisible boundary that made it impossible for me as a non-earning kid to overcome…

    Before I could even grab what was happening,
    I was pushed into work,
    because I wasn’t good in anything,
    where I tired myself day and night,
    so much so,
    that I wouldn’t have enough time to think about anything,
    my liking,
    my interests,
    my own personal opinions and choices,
    No time to think about things that could broaden my horizon,
    my thought process,
    so I spent a couple of years just looking at things from a perspective,
    that a lifeless soulless being,
    and kept my head down…
    UNTIL…

    Until I found this penmanship,
    and took it to myself to make it better,
    and a sole goal in my life to be good at something,
    something that I liked,
    loved,
    and wished to be a big part of my life,
    and I honed it,
    like my life depended on it,
    and kept on doing this,
    making little time here and there,
    scribbling in my notes app,
    or my trusted partner,
    pen and a notepad in which I wrote my raw thoughts and,
    thought on them,
    hours upon hours until,
    I felt satisfied that my thought process has evolved,
    but,
    that too didn’t feel enough…

    So,
    That’s what I exactly did,
    for a few seconds,
    turning into minutes,
    those turning into hours,
    hours into days,
    days into weeks,
    weeks into months,
    and months into years…

    Take a wild guess how long it has been now,
    that I’m writing this,
    and I shall correct you in the comments box….

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Go back

    Your message has been sent

    Choose one option

    Warning

    A lone,
    all alone,
    in search of copper
    I struck gold…


    A vastness,
    unexplored,
    a bottomless pit
    in which I found myself…

    Impossible to climb out of.
    If it were someone else,
    it wouldn’t be possible,
    But-

    it’s me.
    And I say:
    “I’m-possible.”

    It’s possible,
    because it’s me..

    But,

    Never has this been me:
    A person who loved himself…

    Available for those around,
    round the clock,
    until I found…

    I found
    the thing I was meant for
    or
    something that saved me from it.

    “The Search That Found Me…”
  • The Duality of ‘Having It All’ Across Generations

    The Duality of ‘Having It All’ Across Generations

    Daily writing prompt
    What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    This is something that one needs to ask themselves,
    no matter how or where they stand in life,
    Maybe they are not doing so well financially,
    Maybe they are not at the age where they can choose between family and their career,
    Maybe they need to explore themselves more before sharing them with someone else,
    OR,
    Maybe they feel like having a presence mean that their peace will be bothered,
    and they are not ready yet to be a part of something that world wants,
    pushes them to be…

    There’s an extreme duality in this question if you’d believe me ;

    You can ask this question,
    this exact same question to someone who comes from extreme poverty,
    and you will get two answers to this one,


    One,
    the older generation who has been through this and feels just wants their immediate needs met,
    they think if they can afford food this day,
    or two square meals a day,
    because that’s how they believe it is,
    if they can attain food for the day,
    they have earned their keep,
    they have had it all for the day…

    On the contrary,
    they younger generation,
    they won’t stop,
    they will use any means or methods,
    to achieve what they have planned,
    even if it means,
    getting home late,
    using any way to achieve what they want,
    no matter how legal or illegal…


    What is that mindset that can be satisfied by achieving one goal..?

    I have planned another goal after this one,
    and another one after that…
    that’s how growth happens,
    you just keep hitting a spot,
    once and keep at it again and again,
    until you become a master at it,
    the process that takes years,
    entire lifetime maybe,
    BUT,
    keeping at it matters…

    As for me,
    I can never have it all,
    having it all means death of wishes and wants for me,
    but that happens when you believe that you’ve got it all,

    If there’s an empty space that keeps pushing,
    forcing you for strive for better results,
    forever,
    that means you’ll never get tired to work hard,
    even if it takes a form of inspiration to be a better daughter/son,
    father/mother, brother/sister,
    or a friend too…

    Its only attainable,
    If you believe you’ve achieved the goal first,
    and that too 100% of it,
    which is already set to max difficulty pushing you above and beyond…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    As I looked from afar,
    a family,
    a family that I call mine,
    hosting the birthday party,
    a child that was welcomed this day,
    a few years back,
    a family,
    a family I call mine…

    As I sat in my car,
    waiting as the stresses of the world grabbed me by the throat,
    I had to leave them in my car,
    or,
    at the workplace,
    where I got it all from,
    but,
    this day,
    this day I was handed more,
    more than what I could handle,
    and almost forgot all about this,
    all about the birth of my own child…

    As I looked from afar…

    I wish I could’ve come home earlier,
    planned it with them,
    be a part of process that makes it all happen,
    But,
    something at makes it all happens,
    the finances that back it all,
    they wouldn’t have been arranged,
    if I were,
    if I came home earlier…

    As I looked from afar,
    a family,
    a family that I call mine…
  • Finding Time for Oneself: A Personal Story

    Finding Time for Oneself: A Personal Story

    Daily writing prompt
    Who would you like to talk to soon?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    Have you ever looked at a topic and thought,
    Huh?
    There are many who have given up on talking to me,
    despite all of the efforts,
    made from my side to reach them out,
    knowing I haven’t made time for myself,
    in the past couple of years,
    Yes; Years,
    I’ve been running on autopilot for the past couple of years,
    trying to manage everything,
    friends,
    family,
    relations,
    and,
    Business too…

    But,
    never in all those years I’ve got a call,
    I’ve got a message,
    never got a reminder,
    never got nothing to prove that they worry about my being,
    (not my well-being🥲)
    SO,
    would I even ask those,
    from whom I’m a message away,
    to get into a conversation again,
    knowing all the efforts will be made from my side,
    and ultimately,
    it will be my fault to give up or end the conversation,
    because I didn’t carry it…

    So,
    My answer to this one would be,
    “MYSELF”…

    I would like to have a conversation,
    with myself,
    because I haven’t got the time,
    even after all of these years,
    I’ve made for myself tasks that I have to do on the regular,
    But,
    those are without any reward,
    or any benefit for myself (at present),
    but,
    this constant pressure to achieve,
    to do things without any fixed goal,
    or something that I can count on,
    And that too for G0d knows how many years,
    and for many more to come…

    I’d love to sit down with myself,
    and have a conversation with myself on things that bug me,
    worry me,
    and things that bring relief,
    and one day I will,
    one day….

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    On a lone road,
    yet again,
    again,
    on the same path that goes towards a place
    I call home…

    But,
    what for,
    what is it that I do this all for?
    who do I do it all for?
    Is there something for me to gain,
    Is there something for me to learn,
    Is there something for me to become,
    become someone who will be there for everyone,
    take fall for everyone around,
    but,
    What about…..?

    What about the person who became a support system,
    one who is there to provide an ear,
    listen to all your problems,
    Does,
    do his problems even matter…?

    Or,
    he’s better off as support,
    bottling it all in,
    taking support of things that help him cope,
    the cup in this hand,
    a lit cigarette in other,
    as smoke rises,
    just like the problems,
    when he’s under…..

    THE “INFLUENCE”
  • The Importance of Personal Keepsakes in Our Lives

    The Importance of Personal Keepsakes in Our Lives

    Daily writing prompt
    What personal belongings do you hold most dear?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    I’ve become a fan of the prompts these days,
    they ask such intricate questions with such precise clear-cut words,
    That it feels out of this world…

    The reason it is so intricate for me is because,
    we are often told not to brings things so close to our hearts,
    that if one day you were to part (G0d forbid) from them,
    the pain won’t ever be enough,
    to take your life with itself…

    The adamant rule of,
    (Dil par nahi lagaa’na or Dil par mat lena),
    Don’t take it on your heart (translations),
    has saved me G0d knows how many times,
    and it will till the end of me…

    But,
    we are only human Afterall,
    aren’t we?
    we take things to our heart,
    and when time comes,
    it takes a piece of it (our heart),
    with it…

    Coming back to the prompt,
    personal belongings that I hold dear,
    to myself,
    there are many that I hold with care and utmost importance,
    and they have a special place for me in my heart,
    that make me want to continue,
    whenever I feel like I’m falling off,
    or,
    about to…

    One of them is a very old notebook,
    from my school days,
    where all of this took birth,
    the essence of Waakiye,
    or the birth of it,
    I often find myself scrolling through,
    some of the raw emotions that I wrote,
    when all of this wasn’t even in my wildest dreams,
    but,
    The urge and a want to express what roamed this vast land of my mind,
    it was there forever,
    and thanks to consistency of that child,
    and never stopping the scribbling,
    he turned into a person that loves to write,
    even if everything is going against,
    out of control…

    Another one,
    is a collection of photos,
    that keeps me grounded.

    Reminds me of something that I did,
    of irreversible nature,
    and the type of thing that haunts me some nights,
    but,
    it gives me a proof of something that we all fear,

    “THE FEAR OF DEATH ITSELF…”

    that thing ended a great suffering,
    and a time that we don’t wish on an enemy or their family,
    But,
    we went through,
    endured all the sufferings,
    and welcomed the future with open arms,
    even if we were broken,
    shattered from within,
    we still lived,
    lived to see the next day,
    day after that,
    and we will see this day too…

    To better days and,
    things that remind you of who you were,
    and what shape you shall take tomorrow,
    an unknown reality welcomes you…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    In the distance I saw,
    I saw a being,
    a version of self,
    in a place that I could have been…

    Being on the support of others,
    not able,
    notable of something like a madman,
    who lost it,
    lost it all…

    There wasn’t any other option,
    but,
    to stand tall,
    be a shadow to those who were now dependent,
    and be a support system for those,
    who still don’t believe of the happening,
    and yet,
    here we are,
    enduring it yet again,
    this day,
    just like yesterday,
    like it happened yesterday,
    like a film all of it plays,

    BUT,
    THERE WASN’T ANY OTHER OPTION…

  • The Art of Collecting: My Bottles and Writings

    The Art of Collecting: My Bottles and Writings

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you have any collections?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    First,
    I am really sorry for not uploading a day before,
    there were some things bothering that has to be taken care of,
    plus,
    I submitted two of my works to a competition,
    and was busy as the deadline was until last night,
    so most of my time was spent on writing,
    completing,
    editing something whenever I went back to check those drafts…

    But,
    I’m back here,
    and this is one such place,
    that will be my go-to,
    because the freedom of expression I feel here,
    its unmatched,
    maybe because this is something that I was meant to do forever…

    Coming back to the day’s prompt,
    “Do I have any collection…?”
    YES,
    I do have collection(s),
    but,
    most of them are stored in a haphazard way,
    not in a proper way whatsoever…

    One of such is a collection of bottles,
    this started as a dream,
    in which I had a cabinet full of liquor bottles,
    from the places that I haven’t even been,
    but,
    the bottle of that region was in my cabinet,
    some of them were gifted,
    some were bought by me on a special occasion,
    some to remember the good times spent with those who are close to me,
    all in,
    the process of achieving a perfect collection still has a long way to go,
    but,
    it feels good to know that I have started something that I saw in my dreams with an intention of achieving a preset goal…

    Other one is a collection of my writing/ideas that I jot down,
    they are stored in a more random way then how a child leaves his toys in the drawing room,
    an idea here,
    and while penning this one down,
    another one comes and takes over this mind,
    so,
    I open another tab,
    in my mind also in my notes app to pen that down…

    These are my two collections that I own and have owned with pride (second one),
    but,
    everyone needs to have something like a normal state,
    Amongst all the chaos in the world right…?

    Hence the word collection…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Being a writer often feels like this,
    a lone road,
    a path that has to be traveled,
    and a path that has been covered…

    With no such help,
    no such thing called assistance,
    all that happens,
    happens to you only,
    and you are the only sufferer,
    and gainer,
    in the process…

    It often feels that you’re alone,
    you’re the only one who feels this way,
    but,
    in the same boat,
    G0d knows how many are,
    maybe looking for a right word,
    maybe a right prose,
    a better suiting rhyme scheme,
    or even a better title…

    Aren’t we all connected yet,
    all alone…?
  • The Dual Nature of Winter: Joys and Struggles Revealed

    The Dual Nature of Winter: Joys and Struggles Revealed

    Daily writing prompt
    How do you feel about cold weather?

    Hey…

    I hope you all are doing well…

    The cold weather brings out a lot of hidden,
    trapped feelings,
    and memories of things and incidents that happened,
    the last year,
    or somewhere along the winter season…

    I don’t know how,
    but this body remembers,
    each and every thing that happened,
    even if my memories give up on me,
    there are some things that subconscious remembers,
    maybe keep tabs on,
    to play those memories year after year again….

    Being from the country of such a diversity,
    winters are never spent in boredom,
    we spend our evenings chomping on things,
    that might not be healthy in the long run,
    Gajar ka halwa (Carrot pudding for the international readers),
    jalebi ‘s (An Indian version of funnel cake),
    and
    Saag (Spinach stew),
    the last one is one of my favorites,
    which is made in big pots and goes on for days maybe a week,
    it doesn’t last that long in an Indian household,
    but,
    Acquired taste is a thing and with age comes such a palate,
    which is actually good and nutritious for the health…

    This is all the positives,
    but,
    We have to talk about the negatives too,
    the seasonal depression,
    the memories that haunt,
    and the drinking that people pick up…

    Having friends and their plans to sit somewhere,
    to drink and enjoy life and its virtues,
    that becomes a common thing in my country,
    so,
    these types of things rise,
    and the consequences of such actions too…

    Overall,
    it becomes a good time that can be enjoyed by all,
    with a mix of bad things that go hand in hand…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

  • Chaotic relation between work and home life: A deeper look

    Chaotic relation between work and home life: A deeper look

    Daily writing prompt
    How do you balance work and home life?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    This prompt feels like a personal attack,
    And I hope it doesn’t feel like to anyone else ever,
    But,
    the nature of the topic chosen this day;
    woosh…

    The existence of two lives feels a foreign concept when you are a business owner,
    you can’t say no to a client,
    even if they call after hours,
    because this can be an opportunity to gain an edge over the competitors,
    who are working hard with a much higher manpower,
    and here we are,
    trying to survive,
    By managing job-work that client brings in,
    also producing our own product,
    ….
    all of this becomes a medley of chaos,
    as I have to prepare the material that we have to work on,
    to get finally paid by the client…

    My work day starts as soon as I close this blog,
    As I get ready to leave for work,
    and my work carries on till 8 -8:30 in the evening,
    and then comes a forty-five-minute drive,
    on a good day 25 minutes,
    and as i am returning home,
    I have to pick up necessities,
    which takes ma an additional half an hour,
    so,
    I’m at home around 9-9:30 Ish in the evening,

    Guess the work and personal life balance…?
    (The cherry on top,
    my working days go on until Sunday,
    and my weekly off is on Monday,
    yes,
    you heard it right,
    Monday,
    When everyone is dragging themselves to work,
    I am chilling at my crib…)

    Would you call this a balanced work and home life…?

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    The work that goes into work,
    making things work,
    has to take a toll on someone,
    and that becomes me,
    worries about our targets,
    timely delivery,
    and coordinating with those
    who are involved in the process…

    Often I find myself,
    crushed,
    broken beyond repair,
    these clothes are dirty,
    these hands are blacked like metals,
    dust that goes in the air,
    oil smudges here,
    grease stains there,
    but,
    working this life,
    this black life,
    like steel by heating it,
    quenching it to provide strength,
    and then tempering to finally be able to work under pressure…


    This life is a pill,
    that’s hard to swallow,
    and hurts often,
    passing through the esophagus,
    like it has thorns akin to roses,
    but,
    when this tired body hits the bed,
    To take much needed sleep,
    to self it feels like a much deserving break;

    Not far from these are thoughts that haunt,
    when sleep breaks in the night,
    and all the thoughts come at once,
    A haunting…
  • Why Each Day Feels Like a Lie

    Why Each Day Feels Like a Lie

    Daily writing prompt
    What sacrifices have you made in life?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    The prompt of this day made me realize,
    as it gave me a chance to look back at what sorts of things,
    I’ve taken just because,
    also,
    Taken them up on the face value,
    thinking it was for a betterment of a figure bigger than me,
    but,
    all of that turned out to be false,
    when it came to my realization,
    that i was just a stepping stone…

    I’ve summed up in a single post a part of my life,
    how I used to live,
    telling myself lie after lie,
    and how i made an ultimate sacrifice of losing myself,
    my life for a place that doesn’t give 2 F’s about me,
    my life or my well-being…

    Every waking moment,
    just as I woke up,
    It felt like,
    A sacrifice was made;

    A lie,
    I started with a lie,
    “That this day shall be a good one…!”
    “This day will be a good one”
    “I will give my 100% and I will make the best out of the day…”
    will this day be a good one?
    I used to ask myself…

    As the day began,
    the morning coffee,
    which I brutally messed up,
    I told myself another lie,
    “It happens,
    it’s easy to mess up,
    It’s easy to mess a CUP OF COFFEE…..?
    is it easy to mess up a cup of coffee?
    I used to ask myself…

    As i got late,
    yet again,
    because I forgot myself within my thoughts while taking a shower,
    and i hurriedly didn’t take breakfast,
    I asked myself,
    “Was it worth it,
    to spend time thinking instead of leaving for work early…?
    was it worth it to be trapped in traffic for the 20 minutes which could have been avoided,
    if you didn’t think,
    if you could have just taken a shower and left for work,
    But,
    Oh no you couldn’t,
    so now you’re stuck in traffic,
    STAY STUCK IN IT….
    was it my fault to be stuck in traffic?
    I used to ask myself…

    Now the boss won’t leave you alone,
    you forgot the mail that you were supposed to send yesterday evening,
    you heard an earful,
    but you couldn’t say anything,
    “You knew you were at the wrong here,
    You made a reminder but forgot as you reached home,
    because you lay flat and woke up late at night to change and hit the bed yet again without eating…!”
    was it my fault i reached home late or i was overworked?
    I used to ask myself…

    The entire afternoon,
    i spent working on things that were the part of yesterdays,
    and had to work all alone on the project that was a part of someone else’s job just because they were full of work already…
    Couldn’t eat lunch so I got another coffee,
    as the day came to an end,
    I started what work I was assigned this morning,
    it got late,
    as clock hit 9,
    It was a reminder to leave office and head back home,
    “Was I in the wrong here,
    because i didn’t take anything home today,
    but,
    i was asked to update this day’s work tomorrow morning,
    so,
    i had to take work home…”
    why did i have to take work home…?
    I used to ask myself…

    On reaching home around 10 pm,
    having no energy to cook anything,
    I ordered some takeaway,
    to be delivered under an hour,
    I looked in horror as dinner would arrive at 11.
    on canceling the order and making something like rice and eggs at the place i call home,
    I took a seat at the desk,
    and began the work,
    before I could look up,
    it was 1 am,
    saving it I closed my device and hit the bed,
    I wish I could have done this yesterday,
    Or the day before,
    Or the day before that,
    Or the day before that,
    I used to ask myself…

    An ultimate sacrifice that I made,
    was giving a place my years,
    when all in return I got were literal peanuts,
    and trauma that still haunts me this day,
    Just like I am up this morning,
    time being 4:32 AM IST,
    I remember when I used to curse myself for bringing this life upon myself…

    But those days are gone now,
    And I really wish from the bottom of my heart a well life for those who are employed there or starting work there…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Often I found myself,
    contemplating life,
    the choices that led to this point,
    and one of these days,
    I sat down,
    just like the image,
    surrounded by the sea of files,
    a cup of coffee on my left,
    in which remained a single gulp,
    and,
    on my right was a fresh cup that I poured,
    moments before…

    Just like this,
    exactly like this one,

    all until one day,
    I looked back at the situation i was in,
    killing me slowly this work,
    As I felt burdened,
    threatened by the piles of work that was pushed onto me,
    just because I was swift,
    or was given additional responsibility,
    without me ever thinking about it,
    considering it all normal…

    Until it wasn’t,
    Until everything going around me wasn’t…

  • Cherished Memories: The Stories in Our Skin

    Cherished Memories: The Stories in Our Skin

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    The prompt of this dame really made me think,
    And,
    I think there would be a variety of answers that all of you would be seeing,
    most of them would include a piece of clothing that they would cherish or own from a long time that would have seen better days but,
    not being your usual writer,
    I know what all of you are in here for…

    How would you feel if i said the oldest thing I’m wearing is,
    “MY SKIN”

    I do owe all of you an explanation,
    Skin,
    MY thick skin being one of those things,
    the one which has been with me from the very beginning of my essence,
    no fabric,
    no piece of cloth could ever match what my skin has felt through the years…

    Even though it renews itself every month and a half,
    it holds memories that still stay with me to this day,
    The Scars,
    The heat of the Sun,
    a special someone’s touch,
    the test of time—
    all of them leave a mark.
    It’s been my shield,
    a blank canvas that I was born with,
    a story that I am writing as each day progresses…

    THIS body of mine holds a tactile archive,
    a memory through sensations that only I remember,
    Even if the world forgets,
    I remember the weight of denim,
    the scratch of wool,
    the comfort of cotton on a tired day,
    the itchiness of a cloth I’m not well suited to,
    the rash that burned,
    and caused me pain,
    the time I fell from my two-wheeler and blood that oozed out of my skin,
    I remember it clearly as yesterday,
    each and every moment clearly…

    Sometimes this body remembers what the mind isn’t sure of;

    A warmth in the chest,
    A phantom touch on the cheek,
    A comfort that feels real,
    even if the facts are blurry…

    Maybe it’s memory,
    Maybe it’s hope stitched into survival,
    Maybe it’s both.

    What matters is that it helped me keep breathing,
    the memories that this mind often forgets,
    they stay on this skin,
    whenever,
    someone crosses me,
    a familiar scent,
    an accidental touch (for which I apologize)
    it sets into action a string of memories hidden deep within me,
    of which this mind has either forgotten,
    or,
    suppressed to make place for other ones…

    But,
    there’s something that I tell myself,

    You’re here,
    Still breathing,
    Still remembering,
    And that’s not nothing…

    Just like a chain that you forget that is wrapped around your neck,
    after wearing it for a long time,
    the body adapts to it,
    and when accidently it gets stuck in a piece of cloth,
    you remember an existence of it;

    That chain becomes like a quiet truth:
    Something can be with me always,
    even if I forget it’s there…

    And maybe that’s how grief feels.
    Or love,
    Or pain,
    Or memories,
    or existence of it…;

    Worn so long against the skin that One stops feeling it,
    until one small movement brings it back into view,
    glinting with the light of something lost but never fully gone…

    Here’s to reliving all those memories after reading this one,
    also play with your chain or a mala of thread or beads that exist around your neck or your wrist…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    With these memories that we once considered precious,
    made a promise to never forget them,
    They blurred without a trace from this mind….

    But does this mean We’ve forgotten,
    Does this mean we’ve given up,
    Of Course, not.

    Their existence continues to thrive,
    in a way we speak,
    the choices that we make,
    the softness that takes a front when we see someone hurting,
    or
    the hardness that makes us stand on someone’s way if it means it will save someone…

    Been through things tough and extremely challenging ones,
    we’ve learned to carry weight,
    to protect ourselves.
    we’ve built something around our softness,
    not to hide it,
    but to survive,
    maybe try to thrive in it…