a vase of bones

}~back to where i started~{

while her elder cousin brother, zunair who always had an eye out of me, would argue its because of my obvious south indian beauty,

i would proudly tell baba its because of the way my mother grew me up
but to my disappointment
he would nod in denial,

"queens aren't be made, they are just born that way rani ji,"

and i would argue for hours about how my amma was the reason i was who i am today,
letting my childish protectiveness guard his opinion about her,

but yet again, baba would smile and say,
"to be royalty is dependent on the blood but to be a ruler, its the call of the soul my child,
everything is maktub,"

i stared at the cloaked figure who had come much closer to the house now, and i smiled to myself knowing who it was,

and i wandered into the room and sat near baba,
he talked about the new order the british had put up and how we are going to secretly publicise its disadvantages to the locals,

but my mind was far away recollecting the words he had said on the day we met,
"queens arent made, they are just born that way rani ji,"

i suddenly felt the emptiness hit me
i was back in this suffocating cage

everything felt far away from me again,

i waved my hands around but it was just the epitome of emptiness surrounding me,
where are you all?

i was responsible for everything,
i chose independence over security,
and because of me

they are suffering,
dying
maybe even dead,

its pure horror,i knew i was crying,
but i couldn't feel my tears,

all i want is to be saved,
save me
save me ,

if anyone can hear me save me
and those i love and those i owe,

for now my love cant save us
cause it was what pushed us into this hell

could love do bad?

did love have any importance
in these loose ends of the earth?
in these narrow streets,
in these dark alleys,

is this even earth

or is it just the back of my head ?

if it is, it is too dark and heavy
for someone to carry around
everyday,

something also at the back of my head ,
something that was breathing,
kept me alive,

it was the voices,
"everything is maktub"
baba always said that,

that it was all written, that what has to reach you will never go astray, that the universe will protect you and your desires if you ask for it,

was everything truly maktub baba ?
is this agony written too?
but tell me who has been more tormented ?
is it me or the universe?

i tried to calm my soul from screaming
and imposed the contrary
on the voice of my cells,

it soothed my heart brimming with
blood and remorse,
to beat for me, and not for itself,

it grew my flesh,
it tried to make me way more than just a
bag of bones,

and i knew i was healing
silently yes,

and when i was done,
i would escape and save them

but till then if anyone can hear me,
save me,

if baba can hear me,
i want him to tell me

who is more cruel?
the story or the writer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

song playing ~
yengae yennathu kavidhai
by
K.S.chitra