sadness – " Young Writers' Collective"

That Night

By Saanya Sondhi

At 5 in no time, I scroll through all my content apps,
I scroll through my social media

I see how songs from another age make my friends feel warm
I however lay here, in this infinite cold just scrolling.

I have so much content, content to go through, so many words to learn and study through
But all I want at this brink of dawn is to talk to you

Talk about how the universe was made, how the matter that’s light is not even one-fourth of this universe
And how we’re just a tiny speck, a nothing in that something.

How I’m something everywhere, but how I’m not everything
How my memories juxtapose at this time of the twenty four hours

I want to talk to you about the marvels of the universe and the marvel cinematic universe,
I want to talk of everything I know and listen to everything you have to say.

I want tell you about my fascinating horror of numbers
I want to tell you about my love letters, the ones I wrote to space.

I want to hear about your life and about your last love,
I can talk hours about love only if you’d like to listen….

I’ve written speeches on ambition, on dreams that are yet to take form,
I could tell you about how I’ve adored and waited for the stars when everyone I knew was busy clicking the sun lit sky.

Just like I waited for them I’ll even wait for you,
For that night to come one day when we’d talk about life, analyse Beauvoir’s works, appreciate Marsha’s existence

When we’d, undress each other’s scars and listen to our heartbeats and to our hidden muffled screams.
For that day when the galaxy will shine and the universe will align

I’ll wait for that night, for you to realise …..

Good With Words

By Saanya Sondhi

Good with words,
People say I’m good with words
How my words are raw and how I am great at putting alphabets in lines that make sense.

I’m still scared to go deeper with my cuts, more than I am scared to go deeper with my words
I think it’s a good thing, maybe for the world it is.

The colour red pacifies me when the ques of alphabets don’t
Maybe if I was gone, maybe then someone would see me.

I’m screaming for help
But the buds of their own life are between me and them,
Why am I too poor for them?

There’s a voice screaming in my head,
Laying, saying maybe I’m not worth it,
pictures showing maybe I’m not.

My conscious knows I believe in case studies, my mind making me my own.
I am my own victim, I am the universe’s victim.
But I can’t say it out loud.

Knowing that I don’t have happiness is so much easier to accept,
than knowing that I’m meant to give is so much beautiful than what it truly is.

Tears have put me to sleep more than sleep when it came to lie with me,
Screams have tired me more than fatigue,
when I saw starvation as a pretty look on me.

The voices that become miserable sounds in my head tell me that I am my own victim.
Those sounds overlap to become cries of help to no one listening.

I often wonder what can be more important than me on the verge of dying for them.
I often wonder where they are when I’m closer to the knife than I am to my bed on which I’m lying.

There’s not miles but even more of skin that I can see is wrong.
There’s this figure in the mirror that I can see is not worth it.

As I tip-tap my fingers on my screen my cheeks become wet,
as I pull down my panel to see my hopes fade away.

I shouldn’t, I know, I shouldn’t be angry,
but when I see them crying over a broken heart
I want to show my soul to them.
I want to show how no adherent could fix the cracks the shreds of black.

I’m closer to death than I’ve ever been to life.

Young Love and The Rain

By Saanya Sodhi

Young love makes me as happy as the feeling of my cotton dress on my legs, flying in the direction of the wind, going with the wind

I recently learned what a pluviophile is, euphoria took over me as I found another word synonymous with my name

The petrichor makes me feel at home even when I’m not, the wetness of the rain replaced tears on my cheeks

I feel happy in the rain, imagining and re-imagining scenes from movies that happened and from my life that never did

I see a lot of young love around me today, I’m at that age when the little girl that was always scared of the rain thought she would live through young love

But all I live is see and the only way I live, vicariously

I was once scared of the rain, I thought it would flood our homes, that was before emotions flooded my heart and numbness my body

I thought our house would break under the pressure of water but that was before the pressures of love and life scared me much more

I used to think after the rain only wooden boats could save us, the boats of hope have proven otherwise

The me then wanted to live to see love, the me today wants to live for the same

Just that then I was a girl who was in love with love, no complexities, no questions

And today I am the girl who wants to understand all about Aphrodite, Apollo and Inanna

I am heart broken and a boy didn’t break my heart.

By Tushita Rana

Ahmed had always associated fire with warmth and motherly love. The first memory that popped up in his mind was of his mother, Noor, making soft, round and fluffy rotis for their family. How she made her rotis perfectly round was still a mystery to him. The shape of the roti was not the only mystery that surrounded his life, his mother’s death was one as well. It’s been seven months since her death and Ahmed hasn’t been able to find how his mother’s unnatural and untimely death took place. However, one thing is clear, fire had caused it.

The case of Noor’s death was peculiar because it was not a case of arson , wherein the damage is caused to human life as well as material things. Noor’s body was found in a burnt state and everything around her seemed to be untouched by this fire, this is what made her death strange. The fire that caused her death did not seem to have a source as her body remains, which were largely in ashes, were found among the remains of a chair in which she had been sitting in the middle of their living room, which showed little evidence of fire. Since her death, Ahmed was on a quest to find out how his mother died.

Various onlookers from the town were of the opinion that the fire had started from within and witchcraft had played a role in Noor’s death. Ahmed’s family resided in a town where witchcraft and faith healing were common practices, however, their family had never shown any ounce of interest in such practices and this had set them apart from the other families. Ahmed had tried to gain some insight about his mother’s death by talking to the forensic team but that had proven to be unfruitful, as they themselves weren’t able to determine how she died.

—————————————————————————————————————-

“Ahmed, have you heard about spontaneous human combustion?” Atifa, Ahmed’s sister, asked. Atifa had heard her friends discuss human combustion and had recently decided to delve deeper into this concept. The subsequent research had led to establishment of the belief in Atifa’s mind, that their mother was a victim of spontaneous combustion.
The mystery of their mother’s death had become a means of distracting herself from the pain of losing a loved one.

“Atifa! How many times do I need to tell you to stop believing in such foolish concepts!?” Ahmed replied.
“Don’t let this town-gossip get to your head. These people can relate anything and everything to witchcraft or some other nonsensical thing.” , he further elaborated. It was not as if he hadn’t seen Atifa’s search history and not clicked onto the link directing him towards various cases of this ‘absurd and nonsensical theory’ of human combustion, but having a practical and scientific bent of mind, he simply refused to believe it.

Feeling suffocated by his own thoughts, Ahmed decided to go out to clear up his mind and organise his thoughts.
It was late evening, the sky was lilac and appeared to be mourning. Ahmed stepped out into the backyard of his house and stumbled upon something, upon close inspection he realised he was holding a knife which was completely covered in dried blood. Horrified he immediately dropped the knife. The fact that the knife belonged to someone he knew, appalled him.
Not knowing what to believe and who to trust he rushed outside, wanting the universe to answer his numerous questions.
He had solved the mystery and wasn’t certain as to how he had come to this conclusion but was sure of it. Slowly, almost reluctantly he approached his house, the house which held so many memories but now seemed to be haunting him.

With the bloody knife he entered his house and suddenly felt deprived of air, he realised that Atifa was strangling him. ‘She must have seen me discover the weapon.’ he thought and it seemed that he was ready to be killed by his own sister.
He couldn’t comprehend as to why Atifa murdered their own mother, this thought itself had ignited some sort of fire in him. His burning passion to know the what’s and how’s of life had always driven him, and at that very moment it helped him to tackle Atifa to the ground and he put his arm around her neck as a method to block her.

“Why did you do it!!? Why!?” , Ahmed shouted . Atifa laughed hysterically and started crying.

“I-I-I didn’t do it. She wanted me to do it!” she said sobbing.

“She wanted you to kill her, and you did it?! What were you thinking!? Why would she tell you to do that!?” Ahmed questioned, completely baffled by her confession.

“Obviously, I had to murder her. I am the second born and hence she had to be killed by my hands and later cremated but only partially. She was infected!
If you weren’t so self-absorbed you would have seen her suffer.” , Atifa elaborated.

“Infected! What are you talking about!?”

“Yes, I have been in contact with the people who practice faith healing to cure her but they said, that she couldn’t be cured and the sadness inside her would remain forever. The only way out of ammi’s suffering was to do what I did and that is she herself was eager to carry out my plan! Do you understand now? Aren’t you proud, brother?”

“I don’t understand. How… could you?”

“I took ammi to those people and stabbed her with the knife you found outside. Silly of me to leave it there.” giggles “And we partially cremated her to let her sadness escape her body and then very carefully placed her in the living room. It wasn’t easy, Ahmed. But it was the only way out.”

“I- I can’t. I don’t understand…” Ahmed collapsed

“Ahmed! Ahmed! Why can’t you see! It was the only way out. Ammi had to be freed from the sadness inside her… The only way… The only way…”