06/01/2019

(i) I’ve been trying to write a letter to you since the past three months and there’s never been so much music and so much silence in the same seconds. 

(ii) I breathe you through my music and you live through my heartbeat. Kissing you feels like unwriting a song, the lyrics of which I‘ve forgotten. Kissing you is like drowning, though I know how to swim. I’ve always been afraid of the ocean, so I've pretended that I know how to swim, ever since I was seven. 

(iii) The constellations feel like chords to your favourite songs, and it’s getting louder out here. I wish I hadn’t broken the record player, that you got me for my last birthday. there are thirteen different CD’s that I know the tracks to, better than breathing, that refuse to burn. I burn your photographs and I forget how to breathe. So I got a tattoo in the shape of your heartbeat, it’s not all the same. 

(iv) as a kid, I used to count the number of yellow coloured buses on the roads and I always thought that this world did not have enough yellow coloured buses so I started sketching them and making music out of them. Twenty one different shades of yellow in three different sketchbooks, as I trapped as much sunshine as I could, in the pages of those books. The lighter yellow coloured buses were acoustic songs, whose lyrics I wrote at the back of your hands and the darker ones were symphonies that I could never really understand. Like you. 




(v) when my sketches did not feel like music enough, I started strumming on days it rained and it never rained enough for me to be louder than your laughter. And damn, did I want to drown your laughter in the beats of a song that I can never clearly remember! 

(vi) it’s 8:16 pm on a sunday and I have a list of words that I want to say to you. So I made a crossword out of them, and struck out all the letters that are in your name. I’ve made a map out of them now, that feels more lost that I ever could. 

(vii) I’ve made a habit out of collecting words and making poetry out of people. there are nine different grocery lists hidden in the drawers of my bedside table, that remind me how strange it feels to have everything I need and be exactly where I need to be, and still not belong.

(viii) I’ve been trying to write a letter to you since the past three months and there is so much that I could say to you and music that I could send. Yet, all I post are empty postcards with stamps and sometimes, I wonder, if that’s how it ends. 


//06/01 
//empty postcards and emptier crosswords 
emmess 



Today completes 4 years of a home, 4 years of a little poetic blog! It’s been an absolutely beautiful journey, thank you for being a part of it and making it what it was! 

Hope you stay! 
love, 
emm
//notes to 2019

(i) do not get killed. 
(ii) too much Chocolate makes you sick. 
(iii) do not go around telling everyone that you’re an RSS supporter. 
Someone might actually believe you.
(iv) stop making u-turns on third gear.
(v) you do not have to honk at every cow you see. they don’t know that it means that you think that they have too much privilege.
(vi) stop being so terrified of cats. they don’t bite unless they do.
(vii) Indian Idol will come back, you’ll get through.
(viii) you’re a vegetarian even if you eat eggs in desserts. Screw people who say otherwise!
(ix) save up for that typewriter, you can sell it in the 22nd century.
(x) hold on to old woollen sweaters, they’ll be warmer 30 years down the line.
(xi) take more pictures of things you love, even if it is Archana Puran Singh!
(xii) stop obsessing over your niece, you already know she will grow up to be you!
(xiii) kumar sanu is gold, paint his music on your walls.
(xiv) buy less diaries and write more.
(xv) no two years are the same, remember that! 

//30/12
emmess

2018 in a picture.








I grew up a lot this year, in a lot of ways. I got my passport renewed, I learnt how to spell Kerala, and I started singing again, this time for myself. I stopped putting my life in a box, or at least trying to. I saw death, up and close. And I mourned, every single day. I still do. I saw death and I tried learning how to mourn. I’m still trying to. I learnt how to grieve and I grieved. I grieved so much that it doesn’t even hurt as much now.  I wrote, and I wrote so much that it almost hurt to. I cried a lot more and I learnt that it’s okay to.

I started sketching again. I sketched my metaphors and called them poetry. I made poetry out of people and called it love. I painted yellow buses and I realised that it wasn’t them that I was missing, but the lack of them.

I started learning how to forgive myself, for something I thought I’d never be able to. I wrote a letter with every bit of my heart and tore it into pieces, before throwing it away.

I made peace with my loss and learnt that it will haunt me, only if I keep the doors open. I shut more doors than ever, and watched a lot less sunsets. I started counting days and waiting for all of it to end.
I started to be more and learnt how to be okay with being more. I became too much and not enough, almost but not there.

And I’m here now. So I might stay, just a little longer.

31/12

//notes to 2018
emmess





day1: running away. 

There’s something beautiful about certainty, knowing where your next few steps will take you, knowing your way home and not messing up the directions every time you see a turn, knowing that the sunset will lead you back home, and that there is a forever, though just in books and stories, there still is one.

The past few years have been very uncertain, as if I’m running after a train that I was never supposed to even board. There are two exits in front of me and I keep walking away from them, looking for another one. Mostly, I think, it’s because I’m scared. to be honest, I know that I am, every single day, even more so during the winters when the tick-tock of the clock is so much louder yet you hear every single decibel of the silence call out your name, telling you that it’s not okay.

I’ve been looking at the clock an awful lot. They say time heals all wounds but every second of unhealed wounds makes them burn a lot harder. There are burns from memories I wish I could let go of. It’s been a tough year, and there are tougher times ahead.

I hope that you can stay strong and find a home for the darkest and the coldest of this winter.  

love, 
and the lack of it. 
emm.


20/12.








breakfast table looks a lot like
three different types of newspaper publications,
and a lot of plates.
six chairs gathered around a marble table,
that’s always too cold to touch.

four chairs filled with seven plates,
almost as if we try to disguise our emptiness,
with the overcompensation of cutlery.

we don’t eat too much these days,
but there is more conversation,
maybe to make up for the lack of it,
for so long.

there is some laughter too,
loud music on a low volume.
when phones ring, we excuse ourselves
from a conversation that isn’t without us.

there are seven doorbells
on an average,
shuffling around of keys,
and the retelling of the day’s stories.



if our breakfast table were a letter,
it’d be so full yet so empty.

seven different sides in blue ink
and four empty pages,
almost as if we were leaving behind space
for those who left us behind.

and like clockwork,
each of the chairs empty themselves,
more plates, more glasses, more cutlery,
less words, less laughter, less chatter.
and we all walk away.

four chairs empty with the other two now,
all of them alone, yet together,
as the lights switch off and all sounds drift away,
till another meal, till another day. 

 
//table for four.
emmess

16/12/18

6:53am: 
I’m on my way to school, 
wearing the same grey plaid skirt 
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years, 
I untangle the pleats,
one by one,
my heart tangles a little. 

7:43am: 

I sit in the assembly
we’re discussing laws today, 
right to life, 
right to freedom of speech and expression,
right to privacy,
section 377. 
“it is a sin,” shouts a voice from the back, 
“abnormal,” shouts one from the front,
“should not be allowed,” chimes in from my side.
The audience growls in unison, “abnormal”
I see myself mouth the same word 
over and over and over and over again.
I fall in with the crowd,
today I am normal. 

9:21am:

I paint two girls in my art class, 
there faces fairly engulfing each other, 
her hand over her hips,
the other wanders a little wildly, 
i taste the shade of their lips on paper.
13 minutes later,
my art professor tears the sheet in 32.


11:47am: 

middle of my day, 
we’re out in the field, 
tiffin boxes and laughter, 
empty tiffin boxes and laughter.
I make a list of 43 ways, 
to tell my friend 
there is a closet,
that I refuse to hide inside. 
She giggles,
and I smell sunshine, 
44 ways now. 





12:19pm

the washroom cubicle is a closet, 
that I walk in and out of, 
in and out, 
in and out, 
in and out, 
in and out. 
I’ve heard metaphors 
help deal with reality.
I’m not closeted anymore, 
I feel naked today,
I stare at myself 
in the broken scarred bathroom mirror
that my school hasn’t changed 
in the past 73 years, 
I refuse to wipe off my tears today, 
today I’m normal. 

12:53pm

my friend borrows my notebook
to copy the last 3 sentences of today’s classwork. 
As I hand it over,
covered in the uniform brown paper,
I remember the rainbows, 
and hearts, 
and “I want to 377 you”
scribbled over the last few pages. 
I snatch it back, 
I remember I’m normal today. 

1:17pm:

i see colours a lot differently, 
I don’t wear black or white.
I don’t want to.
black and white, 
the closet I do not feel
like locking myself in, 
I don’t like calling it a closet either, 
my closet’s very colourful, 
it has 53 different shades of yellow,
it feels a lot like home. 
I call black and white a box, 
the brown cardboard box
that you sell your old newspapers in. 
I don’t want to be yesterday’s newspaper. 
I don’t feel at home there. 
Today I’m normal.

1:47pm:

I’m on my way home, 
wearing the same grey plaid skirt 
that I’ve worn since the past 7 years, 
I let the pleats stay tangled, 
as I untangle my heart. 
today, I’m normal. 


_untangling the pleats 

26/09




emmess
a few days ago, my friend shared her story with me. This is dedicated to her; more power to you! 💙

voice notes to a stranger 

(i) hey, 
I’m sorry about the fight last night, 
I spent the entire night awake thinking 
of 27 different ways to apologise, 
each one was more sorry than the last, 
but I don’t know if any of them was sorry enough. 
Please call me back, 
give me a chance to think of the 28th way, 
maybe that would be sorry enough. 

(ii) hey honey, 
you skipped breakfast today, 
and left home early
so I didn’t get to see you. 
I’m a little worried, 
we’ve to take Shinzu to the vet, 
he’s been very sick these past few days, 
maybe he misses you, 
I do too. 
Call me back when you get this.

(iii) WHERE ARE YOU? 
YOU’RE LATE! 
we have our submission due today! 
DO NOT SKIP THIS, 
this is important!!!
Call me, I’M FREAKING OUT! 

(iv) hey kid, 
your mom’s been worried about you, 
I don’t blame her, 
you’ve been a little distant lately. 
maybe you’d like to talk about it? 
I get off from work early, 
maybe we can go out for a walk? 
got to go, talk to you later honey.

(v) hi, I thought of 14 more ways to apologise, 
I don’t see you around or I would have done it already, 
please let me know where you are, 
I really want to talk to you. 

(vi) the corridors stink, 
there is this awful stench, 
I do not know where it’s coming from. 
anyway, where are you? 
I’ve called you twice already, 
can’t get through, 
are you coming??

(vii) YOU SKIPPED THE SUBMISSION? 
I’m worried, where are you?? 
I’m going to the library, 
we have to work on extra matter for the submission, 
CALL ME BACK!! 



(viii) Honey, you have to get home soon, 
Shinzu is freaking out, 
he won’t calm down, 
he’s really uncomfortable, 
I keep calling the vet, 
they won’t pick up. 
I might drive him myself in an hour, 
if he doesn’t calm down. 
Be home soon. 

(ix) you’re worrying me now. 
I’m really sorry, 
please call back. 

(x) this is a recorded message
from Amazon customer support, 
some unusual activity has been detected on your account, 
kindly visit our privacy settings if the last 
38 purchases weren’t made by you. 
thank you for your time. 

(xi) Okay man, I’m worried sick now, 
let me know you’re okay, please? 

(xii) I’m really sorry. 
I shouldn’t have said the things I said, 
I didn’t mean of them. 
please forgive me, 
this one last time. 

(xiii) honey, 
I’m on my way to the vet now,
Shinzu seems really sick, 
we need you here. 
please call back. 

(xiv) hey kid, 
drop in a call please, 
we’re really worried. 
your friend came over looking for you, 
I hope you’re okay. 

(xv) I’M FREAKING OUT, 
WHERE ARE YOU?? 
CALL BACK NOW! 

(xvi) I miss you. 
text me, please? 

(xvii) he..

------VOICE MAIL FULL------
no more voice messages can be recorded. 

_voice notes to a stranger
emmess
18/09