Losing NaPoWriMo Day 2

Not every friendship and relationship is supposed to work out well. With that in mind, I penned this.

..

Losing

I have lost people,

and not always to death. 

It's a slow, persistent ache,

It's like watching an apple rot, 

Or an iron rust:

Irreversible, inevitable 

The mind gives no reprieve:

It wields its own misery. 

It revisits the memory lane, 

When the apple was fresh, 

When the iron didn't rot. 

No explanation reasons, 

Where it went wrong. 

What changed? 

Who changed? 

No need to debate, 

Worthless questions. 

It's bound to be, 

Such a train is life. 

Passengers board, de-board, 

All stations offer, 

Unique, experience. 

The stepping stone

I can recall that feeling.  Sitting on the first desk,  I felt challenged by my best friend sitting beside me.  There were mixed emotions.  I was proud of his effort and the praise he got for having written a poem titled 'Books are theeeeee  best  (the extra 'e' s were for emphasis,  he told me.)  But I also felt left behind as Nikhil and I were pretty competitive academically.  I could not let him get a lead over me.  I just wanted the day to end and get the scores levelled with him .

I don't remember what all ideas came into my end,  but I ended up writing a poem about a farmer.  I literally defined the term (as is the right way of introducing any topic): the first line I wrote was 'The man who works in the field is called a farmer,'  (the second line : he works there from January to December.)

For some reason I was very excited about this effort. It was the last day before summer vacation.  I could not wait for two months to share my effort.  I telephoned Nikhil but could not reach him  I called our mutual friend Keshav,  who listened to my first poem very carefully.  I don't remember what he said,  but it was not discouraging,  at least audibly it was not.

This was the stepping stone.  This ordinary effort and many others got encouragement from people who were close to me.  It took me years to compile poems which conveyed deeper meanings,  were  written in a particular style,  provoked readers to think.

Looking back these ten years,  I know I have enjoyed the process.

Aman Arora writer (29 April 2006-Present)