A poem on a word from your native language, the one that becomes a door to a forgotten home, a childhood smell, a buried grief or a lost revolution

Beckoning my existence

Uss rab par vishwas rakh, har manzil me tera saathi ho vo khuda,

Kyuki Jado usdi meher hove toh tenu vo bhi miljaye jo tera nahi ho sakda!

Sorrow in its brevity screeches through the flair of callous screams as grief trances,

The pain of the amorous existence seeps within as the gleams of survival in its mirth dances,

I wish to hide in a utopian land, one where time crawls and joy stands tall,

One where I disconnect from the reality and love in its virtue embraces me every time I fall.

--

Prestige screams through the virtuality of likeability that screens through the social wall,

Where likes become one’s identity and in the ingenuity of pleasing others,

The externality enthralls.

Humans are social animals, the ones who fear to be left strayed,

Yet I find peace in solitude in the era where love of the talking stages leaves us betrayed.

---

Laid in honor, the benchmarks of extreme perfection my clan in pride sits,

Enamored with viable sociability, I dare to live like a black sheep that in the bareness exists.

Jaana Anivarya hai, rehna sikhiye- the voices in my head battle between holding on and letting go,

The beauty of hope coincides with alignment, my future becalls this vision- I hope so!

--

Ki Raula Paya Ne!- my mother becalls my messiness with formal rage,

Seeking refuge behind the closed doors of my creations, the stellar of a nagging voice forces me to engage.

Diplomacy in its finest guise often plays fiddle when one themselves confined,

I find myself yearning to leave with the family group, the hall with no exits,

Where rigid mindsets hold their measure prededfined.

--

My mother transitions between Ki Raula Paya Ne and Rab DI meher from time to time,

Often reminding me that life is not a race, that you need to power through to the finish line.

Maybe one day our generational views might align, but I continue to stand tall,

To be so loud in the authenticity of myself, to love myself in the entirety of it all.

-Hridya Sharma