Things I Want You to Do

You, dispirited girl, lost in the thoughts trickling down the crevices of the four walls surrounding you, and intoxicated by the spells chanted by the demons of your past, it is time to drown your blues, with the rays of the sun sinking in the dusk.


When the sullen air enfolds you on a chilly Saturday morning, stretch your arms, break the bubble and inhale the blessings of a new day. I know that the roots dangling from your body are pulling you onto the bed, but I want you to get up and step onto the cold marble floor; I can see you curling your toes, but I need you to walk ahead. Trust me, it’ll get warmer.


As you brew the early cup, watch the swaying leaves outside and dance with them until you lure your long lost spirit inside; take a deep breath in and leave a deep breath out, do it until you catch up with its beats, do it until the moths flying inside your head slowly retreat to sleep.


When it’s time to take a shower, let the oil tame your hair as you run your fingers through the ruffled frizzes. Do it gently, take your time; part by part, one by one. If the hopeless strands fall off your hands, remember that there is nothing wrong; we are all condemned to lose, but in the end things get at ease.


Today, I want you to restart mentoring your little sister on how to draw. Teach her to draw a portrait of herself. You would see a fleeting vision of yourself in her when she commits mistakes.


Ask her to draw eyes. Yes, a pair of them.
Guide her to pencil in a nose; long and curved.
Hold her hands when she sketches her lips; flattened and thin.


“I look faceless,” she would tell you.


She is too young to know the bitter meanness that you have learnt through years; of trapping one’s self inside a loop and of fitting one’s uniqueness inside a mould. Tell her that it is we who define the realm of our self, that she is too young to confine her petals before blooming.


As you look into her glistening eyes, cherish the contentment that you earned. You’re not a worthless creature or anything that they defined you but the only authority that could confer a meaning to what you wish to become.

There is nothing amiss in being depressed, but as those tears dry, hold back yourself from shrinking into a pothole. There are millions of smiles waiting, just like the one you earned before.


Today, when the night falls, I would see those dark clouds brimming in your eyes again, but sleep today, unlike the other days that you spent like a soldier guarding a trench. Sleep today and soak your eyes in a dream where you could meet me-the girl you used to be.

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