Maa, where do I put this grief down? 
There are times, I stared at broken fragments of mirror, moment by moment as if to make sure I continue to exist.

/often I find myself standing on the ledge, wondering how ugly can a person get./

Grief has found a home in me and I don’t wish to let her go, she is my solace,  the only companion to my reflection I continue avoiding.

/why do you cry?

I remember. /

The claws of anguish scratch the walls of the atrium and I can’t help but whisper his name as if my majnu would receive my Battered soul from the cemetery of loneliness.

Father, I slit my veins in the hope of happiness and now all that lays in front of me is a bloodied knife and crimson dreams, baba what am I supposed to do with the leftover pieces of what has become of the helpless child?


~Akshita Chaudhuri

Kolkata, India