How I have been Disciplined

Because sometimes Capital Punishments can create a rift between Parents and Child, one that can never be filled

Note: This is not related to my book. Just a fleeting thought I penned.

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It was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me,
I had been disciplined since childhood,
With sticks and brooms and slaps and kicks too,
That was my parents style of venting out their anger,
And rearing the elder kid too.

I grew apart from them with time,
They never understood why I rebelled,
As I reached my teens I started losing my cool,
So it was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me.

I reached my twenties,
I found a partner and as he went through a harsh phase,
I wanted to be there for him, listening to him into the night,
It was something my father couldn’t digest,
At the age of twenty four,
It was again nothing new for me,
When my father took a stick and hit me,
I protested and I shoved him back, my mother called me crazy,
After all hitting back is not how I have been disciplined.

More than a year later I can still see the marks upon my waist,
A reminder of that ill fated day,
What had been my fault?
Was it wrong to be there for someone you love?
But then parents can do no wrong,
They have always reared us with so much love,
So I am not allowed to question them,
Or tell others the very same, what would society think of them?
And anyways also I should have been used to it,
Why would I even cry over this common occurrence?
After all it was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me,
It is just how I have been disciplined.

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All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2020

VINAYAK

“A Tale of Vinayak: a House of Bricks and Stones which is a Son, a Brother, A Protector and More”

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I wondered why they named our house,
My parents, you know,
An embellished Marble stands at the gate,
With the name Vinayak.

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With time I came to realise,
It held a deep meaning,
It’s the one of the many names,
That the Hindu Lord Ganesha holds,
If my devoted mother ever had a son,
She would have probably named him Vinayak.

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Come to think of it,
This house is akin to a son,
Each brick, each Stone was engraved,
By the hard earned money,
Of their own time and efforts,
Isn’t that what parents do for their children?
It’s certainly no less than a son,
Its the result of their own lifeblood,
This house called Vinayak.

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A few years Younger to me,
But it has seen all my phases,
From childhood to youth,
It has held my deepest and darkest secrets.
A great listener, my partner in crime,
My closest confidante,
It has seen me laugh, It has seen me cry,
It has supported me through in the Most Painful and solitary of times.

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It protects us all from the perils outside,
People say you are two sisters,
But I say NO, we have a brother,
More humane than many outside, Over the years HE has stood and still stands tall,
For people it might be bricks and stone,
For us it’s a son, a brother, Our Protector,
And HIS name is Vinayak.

.

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All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar (VRa).

The Soul’s Urge©|2019

PRIMA DONNA

A Short Tale of a lost Starlet ‘Prima Donna’, revived on this festival of lights, (Diwali) .

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The lights shone a little brighter this year,

As her heart and soul felt a lot lighter on this festival of lights,

As the lights shimmered so did her soul.

The happiness apparent;

She shone in all her rarity,

Like the Prima Donna she once was,

One who was forgotten in the worldly chaos..

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All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2019

EXISTENCE

Tale of a Strong Woman with a Dead Soul who finds her Existence Pointless

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She wanted to be the girl in his poems,
The one he would never forget.
She wanted to be the girl in his sketches,
The one he would always need,
Just like the air he breathes.
She wanted to be the girl in his dreams,
The one he would fight for,
One he would forever be at the side of.

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Instead she became the girl who wrote odes to her pain,
In trying to become his muse,
She lost her own self.
The girl who pretended to be happy even when sad,
Tried to be strong even when weak,
All this just for him;
Her hollow eyes had no expression,
When she realised she was so replaceable, so easily forgotten.

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Even after all that, Lust driven men chased after her,
Trying to claw at the numb remains of a body, with a shattered soul,
Nobody seemed to care, she had emotions too.

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Left Uncared & Unloved for, people sing praises of her strength,
The girl who became her own muse.
A girl who seems stone cold,
Shrouded in a constant mystery,
One who loved and fought with all her being,
something the ones in her life failed to reciprocate.
A wounded tigress they call her,
But she is just a girl with a dead soul,
One whose tears fail to flow,
One who feels she has no regrets, To the extent that,
She finds her mere Existence pointless.

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All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2019

CROSSROADS

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“A Tale of the Crossroads of Love and Life”

Two years down the lane,

History seems to repeat itself,

Everything seems unchanged,

All that occurred in the past,

Is recurring, leaving me unhinged.

 

The bleak mornings and dreary nights,

Of the rains of this year,

Are mere shadows,

Of the summer of that draconian year.

 

The time I hid myself from all the love and fame,

To save myself from this world full of fake,

Removing the last vestiges of the life led till then,

I detached myself from people and pain.

 

After distancing myself from people,

Becoming socially impaired the only choice I could handle,

I never thought I would have to again face,

Any memory of the past knawing at my progression and pace.

But,

Life and Love have created another uproar,

And yet again I am at a CROSSROADS.

 

Life looms above me asking,

Should I or Should I not?

And Love,

Well, it keeps questioning me time and again;

Do you want someone to fall for the idea of you?

Or

Show your true self and let someone fall for you?

 

They have both given me choices to make,

And have left me with brutal decisions to take.

Entering the world without my facades,

Leaves me defenceless and scared,

It puts me on a pedestal,

Laying my vulnerabilities at stake.

Lively, loved and coherent or Stranded, alone and obscure,

The choices I make will lead me to either of these thestrals.

 

As the circle of life will complete itself,

It might meet the others,

Is all I will be left with to hope for,

Once I have decided upon the flow of one road.

 

All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2018

 

 

 

 

 

MONSOON YEARNINGS

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“A Tale of the Longing that arrives with the Monsoons”

The morning is dark yet refreshing.

The clouds thundering above me.

Sitting outside in the open I am thinking of you,

As the rain drops fall upon my skin;

I imagine you in them,

They sear my skin with a burning passion,

As they trickle down my body,

And serenade me.

 

The afternoon is cold,

There is silence everywhere,

Except for the soft pitter patter of raindrops.

I am on my bed listening to the sounds when,

There is a sudden urge to hold you.

Despite knowing you aren’t here,

I want to touch you.

The bedsheets crumple beneath my hands,

As I claw at them,

Calling out your name;

Disturbing the peace of the scene.

Those hidden desires resurface again,

The delirious moans and the whispers that follow,

With a mere imagination of your presence,

Titillate me to the core,

Driving me insane.

 

In the evening I feel spent and tired,

I sit outside again,

Staring at the mist settling upon the hills beyond.

They look so beautiful, I want to capture them,

Wishing I could share the landscape with you.

 

The night arrives bright and ethereal,

The moon shining upon me,

A velvety blanket of stars surrounding it.

It looks crystal clear yet hides the night’s enigma underneath..

I remember your love for the nights and smile,

As I realized I have fallen for you and it has been a while.

 

Memories come rushing through and I am reminded of the time with you,

The sky still remains the only constant that we share,

As another day of the Monsoons passes,

With me yearning for you.

 

 

All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2018

ETERNITY

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“A Short Tale of a Lifetime of Romance”

 

When I am with him,

I don’t want him to look at another woman longingly,

Wishing it had worked out with her.

 

Instead I want to be the woman,

He can look right into the eye,

And thank his stars that it never worked out with others.

I want to be the woman,

Who is recognized by his heart and soul,

As the one;

Who has loved him Eternally,

And will stand by him through Eternity.

 

 

All Rights Reserved. Vanya Rajwar.

The Soul’s Urge©|2018