Author's note: I don't know what I have written, it's kind of a paradox, somewhere between prose and a poem. Today's episode, especially the scene where Abhira talks to herself looking into the mirror and then starts hitting the mirror was heartbreaking to watch and that made me write, more like a spill. My words paved their own way today and I am not sure what it made but it's something. I am sorry if it doesn't make sense to you all, but I would love to know your interpretations.
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No one tells you how trauma makes you a liar. Abhira has been painted fearless in the vision of the Poddars and indeed she was. Fearless...or more of a deception. Fearless...or just camouflage, blending the sorrow with your form. Fearless...like a bird with a broken wing on the edge of an unsteady branch. Fearless...like an orphan who has developed a spine too young. Fearless...like an orphan who would learn to run from any place that begins to feel like home.
If you ask Armaan, Abhira is also incorrigible and egoistic, because it should be justified for him to cut through her skin and stab her wretched heart, but still expect her to breath at his accord even after her veins have run dried. He may pelt stones of unjust blames at her, and she must refuse to bleed through her wounds.
Hold that blood Abhira, hold that courage... because you are an orphan, a responsibility residing in golden cages, where the keepers let you eat on days when you refuse to flap your wings, the ground remains still only when you choose to kneel. Stay still... don't breath, the air isn't your vicinity, you shall walk on eggshells laid down by others and breath only when they think you deserve to. On other days just be...like a symphony of no true melody, like a crimson portrait of grief but your grief shouldn't be painted on your face, it shall be etched to your soul.
The world doesn't end Abhira just because it ended for you and your Mumma. There isn't enough oxygen in this house for you to consume, just like there wasn't enough left for your mother. You don't ever forget her death but you shall also be reminded, your home was always a cemetery, there were more deaths than there ever were lives. You won't know what it's like, to live in a garden and be the only dead plant there but you have to learn. Learn to stay within the confines of this room but always be on an exile. Learn to call this dungeon your home but also remember you will never belong. And learn to be the loneliest creature, observe people go about with their lives, watch their grief and then feel your own but never let anyone else become your need.
Familiar faces are reminders of familiar ache but all these faces around you are estranged then what brings you the pain? Stare into the eyes that reflect back at you when you look into the mirror...that is the cause of your ache. Eyes of your mother, soft brown filled with sadness, and smile of your father...your face...a constant reminder of what shouldn't have been. You are what you want to erase and you are also what this family wants to break.
The highest ceiling of the house comes thumping close to your chest. Make yourself feel small enough so that you can fit this monsterous grief in the corner of the room, so your cries only echo between the walls you build with shards of broken glasses from all the frames that you break. You shall not remain quiet but you shall only speak what they feed into your system, because remember, this is a golden cage, and the keepers only feed you when you make no noise. So learn their language and forget all your syllables, your words shall be calculated and your voice always suppressed.
Fractured identities are fragments like lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Undress your insecurities and maybe that would stop you from looking into the mirror and you would hate your loneliness a little less. Your greed is your poison, this greed is also your hope and hope gives you a slow death. Stop right there, know your place. This is a golden cage, and you are a homeless orphan, don't seek respite, do not seek refuge, just survive.
Lose yourself if you seek love and lose love if you seek yourself. And if you choose yourself then run, let your body lose the colour green, or embrace the pale of autumn and live like a dead leaf, on verge of being crushed at any moment, if you choose love. Or remain in that space called between and watch yourself getting pulled and push.
At the end, you only have you Abhira. Your hope comes from desperation. You run, chase happiness to collect it, to feel you atleast had it in hindsight. So stop running, learn to walk. Because this is a golden cage, the keepers will keep you caged till you try to run, because isn't that the tragedy of it all, to make the fearless feel the fear.
Remove your facade, let your wounds bleed, let them hear your silence, so your heartbreak echoes loud enough, and walk...walk till the golden cage fades behind you. Walk till you do not reach the place where the sky meets the land. Walk Abhira, walk and let them chase the flying bird, let them search the sky while you make the land your territory.
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YOU ARE READING
Nobody's daughter ~ Yrkkh Musings
FanfictionThis will be a series of OS or TS, about how each member of the Poddar clan views Abhira, in a different light, in their own consonance and dissonance. These plots might be unconventional to the usual vogue of fanfiction writing but I wanted to try...
