Minakhi Misra

As the chasm of mistrust widens
And the rope of faith is taut,
Would you risk to walk the line
Or hesitate in your thought?

I know it’s easier to let things happen,
But is it easy to let it all go?
When the dawn breaks after the darkness,
Will your world still be so?

For this is the price of abandonment –
Tossing with loneliness on your bed.
To have to reach below for company,
To sleep with your demons instead.

When the heart that held her closely,
Embraces pain and guilt and doubt,
You might find yourself an exit,
But would it be the way out?

Today, you ask me why I write,
Why set in ink those words at all?
I can reply just by being upright
That I only answer that treacherous Call.

In my ear, the Call does say
Of thoughts and other similar things,
Murmuring incessant all through the day
And nights full in those whisperings.

Of men, their ambitions and their goals,
And oft-times about me and you,
Of joys and beauties and cheerful souls,
Sprinkled on top with horrors too.

Till my heart can take no more,
Drowning all its chambers deep,
Till into pieces my mind is torn,
Till Sanity is difficult to keep.

Only then, to calm the maddening storm
Do I put black down on white,
To restore things to their norm
Momentarily at least to gain respite.

---

Originally shared with a friend in the Summer of 2014

I write not to be commended, to be noticed;
Neither Sanction nor Approval do I seek;
I write because I cannot reserve within
That which my soul does speak.

I rent out my words to vent out my thoughts,
So please acknowledge them for what they are.
Look not for what meaning or what motivation
Drives me to reach those ears miles afar.

My poetry is for you, of course,
But live not illusioned that is of you.
It’s neither by you, nor for you, nor from you.
My work is not your prerogative too.

I write, hence you read,
I sing hence you sway.
The music is within me,
Only mine is the right to give away.

---

Originally shared with a friend in the Summer of 2013

While I am gone away and cannot be reached,
While this distance stands as a wall unbreached,
While I walk free in the whiteness of the snow,
Painting them in hues that only I may know,
While I stride along unknown roads and paths
While I shrivel away at the thought of baths
While I shiver for want of warmth in the cold,
Burdened though under woolens new and old,
While I discover the depths of friends’ loves,
Crowding together around the heat of stoves,
While I sing and shout and crack laudy jokes,
And drink from the plenty of adventure hopes,
While again next morning I venture forth,
In hopes of adding to my life’s full worth,
While I swerve with the car at every turning,
While I feel celebration whetting my yearning,
While I ape and mirror the smiles unafraid,
But inside gape at and fear the miles ahead,
While so aware that with you I cannot be,
Know that in my hearts I carry you with me.

---

Originally shared with a friend in the Spring of 2013

If Truth fails to serve your cause,
Lie, Lie till you hear applause,
Till Victory chooses to bed you,
Till Indecision chooses to shed you,
Till the day your Conscience dies forever,
Speaks back to you, not now not ever.

---

Originally shared with a friend in the Spring of 2013

Opening my wardrobe, I found awaiting
A furious face with its two circular eyes,
Where there ought to have been four,
Relating the tragic history of its partial demise.
With nothing but its crescent shape
It painted, so picturesque,a scene of hurt
Of how the Dhobi in his infinite wisdom
Beat the rock with the weapon of my shirt,
Either to punish me for my tight fist
Of which he never fails to complain,
Or to vent out his sorry disposition on
Having ventured into the angry domain
Of his hardened wife who suffers his moods,
Only occasionally daring to remonstrate
For the sake of the children who go unfed:
A result of their father’s drunken trait.

Whatever ailed my washerman aside,
I had for myself troubles of my own.
Having never heeded my mother’s advice,
I did not know how a button was sewn.
Innocent I was of this arcane craft,
Of replacing crescent with full moon,
And hence to ameliorate the status quo,
I decided to acquire the skill by noon.
Fishing out from my multi-purpose kit,
A needle and a length of coloured thread,
I applied myself to the labouring task,
Each passing moment augmenting my dread.
It was not before long that I could pass
The string through that miniature eye
Of the needle with my trembling hands,
Each time evading the orifice and passing by.

Broken Button’s patience had run its course,
From its earthly confines it wanted severance .
So, to expedite his journey to the other world,
I cut the old string to herald his deliverance.
It found its peace in the dusty corner,
Where I sent it flying to its open grave.
To the one that adorned my shirt so long
Such was the dismal farewell I gave.
I dropped my instruments before I could
Somehow cause the situation to worsen,
Overwhelmed by the sorrow of separation
From such a loyal guard of my person.
I declared that no Button shall replace
It that closed my clothing against dirt.
I proceeded hence, in silent remembrance
To pick from my closet another shirt.

---

Originally published on Quora on January 27, 2013

Hear me out before you leap
To some unwarranted conclusion
As to what brings me to your keep,
To create what confounded confusion.

I am here under the banner of peace
To foster with you a truce of kinds,
To let this unfortunate deadlock cease,
So finally, there will be rest for our minds.

For four summers full, I have laid this siege
On the walls of our home, starving our state,
Painting them in red where they were biege
Repaying their love, with fiery arrows of hate.

But, I am tired of looking over my shoulders
With the sound of every slipping stone;
Afraid that an avalanche of boulders
Will grind me bloody to the dripping bone.

You may forever keep our father’s seat,
Crown yourself with his Silver Crown,
But break with me some bread and meat
With your crystal smile, not your vain frown.

Oh, you crave to mount my head on a pike,
For all the treasons in your state I’ve stirred,
But ponder once the Balance, in sight of Dike
Of my crimes to the horrors of your wrath incurred.

Distance at once your men from me,
Do not let them spill our father’s red.
Draw it yourself with the blade that we
Coveted, when our father was dead.

Come and take that which is long your due,
In sight of all Gods, let us play this scene
How in our home,with my blood let by you,
I atone for my acts and wipe our slate clean.

---

Originally published on Quora on January 24, 2013

Still, I don’t know Why,
I did so often to you lie,
Why I never gave even one try
to secure your trust’s seal.
Seeing how the truth clears
the whole mind of all its fears,
I can only drain out my tears,
till my burning heart comes to heal.

But, if my chance comes,
I’ll set right all of my wrongs.
Give me at least some time
to tell you how I feel.
Don’t forget me;
please leave some space to let me
Live inside your heart till,
my burning one comes to heal.

If I have to,
with no regrets I will do,
All sins you want me to purge true;
before your God I’ll kneel.
But don’t forsake me;
I have no one else to take me,
Into their loving hearts till,
my burning one comes to heal.

Till my burning heart comes to heal….

---

Originally shared with a friend in the winter of 2012

Abashed, ashamed I knelt grounded
Lost to the despair that was my Bane
Till I found wherein I was truly founded:
A discovery that alleviated the pain.
In union the whispers within resounded,
“Rise!” and I was the Knight again.

---

Originally shared on Facebook in the Winter of 2012

Herein, I shall account what dangers lie
Within the sweetness of such panegyric
That lift your esteem to pinnacles high
Through melody of your peers’ music and lyric.
For when words take the superlative form,
They hoist you up royally on the zenith of all,
Leaving no ladders to climb, no walls to storm.
All that remains is the prospect of a downfall.
Readily assumed will be your continued success,
Though there may yet be one to better you still,
And you, so drunk in praise, would fail to assess
Your proximity to failure without your Power of Will.
So heed not when someone calls you the best,
Let not their words poison your efforts earnest.

---

Originally shared with a friend in the Winter of 2012