Coup de grâce

Since the last I had bid her farewell,
Today was almost a year.
And just like then,
This too was only his fault I fear.

A different kind off death
I saw her die then too…
She fell in love, but soon
He had to leave, she to rue.

They apologized for my misfortune,
And asked me to say my goodbye.
She lay there pale, watching intently
As I came in, she sigh.

She smiled sadly
As a tear escaped her eye.
“It happened long before” she whispered,
“Today’s not the day I die.”

-Tannisha Avarrsekar

Death pledge

“Somebody’s going to emergency, somebody’s going to jail.”

***

Somehow they routinized a state of emergency
Found certainty in the loss of certainty
The news kept beating nails into a consciousness
Struggling under the weight of the worse’s consequence
Reverses, losses, deadlocks fostered one another
But they could not be told and they did not desire to hear
The emotionally heightened tenor of houses under siege
Adventure for those the climates of danger please
Tumbling down walls- at once perilous and liberating
Fearing the canvas-like impermanence of their dwelling
Watching familiar things seized in the space of a night
Despite the despair, they’re always quite “fine”
Striding aimlessly with their heavy heads ablaze
Chins up, no one can ever see the flames
A shawl of secrets to keep from the chill of judgment
The traumatic eventuality of the future bombardments
Funny, when you need a reminder as often as a distraction
Despite the action, anticipation gives a sense of suspension
Drifting on the tideless, futureless today
With a bone-deep exhaustion no sleep could repair

-Tannisha Avarrsekar

The wind and the woods

Together they make a sound so sweet
The wind and the woods when they meet,
It resonates of scintillating conversation:
One volatile, one entrenched- an astonishing association.

But alas the wind does have to leave,
A doldrum the woods knew would be.
And though it shall come back to visit,
The woods will forever miss it.

But perhaps time will acquiesce to mend,
The trees it never thought would bend.
Before the wind is made to mourn,
The fire it never thought would burn.

– Tannisha Avarrsekar

An ode to the beautiful city that I got to call my home…

London isn’t the best city I’ve seen, because of its history or economy or art or politics. It’s not the best because of rainy afternoons reminiscent of watercolor paintings that make the pains of your everyday life seem processional. It’s not because of white stone buildings and Victorian street lights, that based on the hour of the day could be backdrops for fairytales or noirs. Or because of tipping hats and billowing trenches that disappear into purposeful crowds that murmur of the most divine accent. Or even because Christmas is pretty much an ongoing affair from November till New Years and the ale here is cheaper than the water.

London is the best because it has a time-honored tradition of placing your hearts at the edge of your souls, and making you pause to marvel at the immense grandeur of the world. It’s the best because London if you let it, can be for you whatever you want it to be; and if only you keep your eyes open, mate, it can give you whatever it is you are looking for.

                                                                                                   – Tannisha Avarrsekar

Uprooting a tree

It’s easier to uproot a plant than to uproot a tree
For how long does the future provide comfort for free?

Will I love the monsoon as much
When I can’t smell the petrichor from my windowsill?
Until I come back home
Do you think time will agree to be still?

I left parts of me behind, with everyone that waits
While I try to push against attachment’s gates.
Does distance intensify love, or dilute it?
After I learned to love something, how do I teach myself to forget it?
What am I to do if I’m all alone on my birthday?
And I’m terrified of losing, what I let go away?

Why should my dreams be my master?
Why should my thoughts be my aim?
Since when is it considered weak,
To choose your family over fame?

Can I still call it a con, if I asked to be conned?
Who can I blame for my mistake, when I was forewarned?
Isn’t the eternal explorer always lost?
When it’s spring, why does one look for frost?

How much can you pack in suitcases?
Why is it such a curse, that home is where the heart is?

– Tannisha Avarrsekar

Coup de foudre

Why
is falling in love
so crudely similar
to loading the gun
for a known felon
and then going ahead
and undoing your armour?

– Tannisha Avarrsekar

 

Home

I look at the photos on my wall and realize,
Home isn’t four walls and a roof
It is these people and their reassuring smiles.

Family is not just in the blood; it is in the bone
And till death do us apart
I’m a very blessed firestone.

The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere,
Oh what a lovely gift
To find people with whom you are what you appear.

They say people come and go,
But the only ones that matter, are the ones that stay
For unflinching loyalty, steady concern makes way.

Where unconditional love grows all mistakes are forgiven
And how beautifully they demonstrated that
Love is appreciation, not possession.

Of thousand gestures of kindness my heart comprises.
We’ll make merry with chocolate and wine,
Until destiny proceeds with the next set of surprises.

It never fails to make me happy, thinking about
Heartfelt conversations that have changed the way I look at life
And inside jokes that have made me laugh until I’ve cried.

The way they look when they laugh freely,
And the small smiles they try to hide,
The times they get annoyed with worry,
And how formalities have been kicked aside.

There is so much in the world to yearn for
But with these gems, I have enough.

So no matter how far and freely I roam
May I always find my way back home.

– Tannisha Avarrsekar

Dancing on Coals

I’ve marveled at the sun only to be blinded by the light
Broken every bone, with my innocent hopes of flight
Squandered all this time, in my failed attempts to stall it
Hidden my heart so carefully, that now I think I’ve lost it

I’ve sailed the seven seas, and come back home parched
Counted stars all night, only to find my fingers scorched
Given thanks for the things I know and for those that I never will
Spent a lifetime as an artist then discovered I didn’t have the skill

Always the higher I rose, the harder I fell
But these are the funny stories, I now can tell
Of love and loss, and passion and pain
Of how mishap after mishap life remained the same

So now,
If I have to walk on coals, I much prefer dancing on them
And if I have to drown at sea, I’d like the weight being of gems.

– Tannisha Avarrsekar