Kamna's Blog

The singularity of pain Dynamic Isolating Debilitating Compounding Hyperbolic Frightening Intensifying Seemingly without respite The pain of a stubbed toe Of contracting uterine muscles Of a dash of the shin into the edge of the table Of tiny joints in the knee collectively ganging up on you Exactly the same yet exactly different Pain is unifying Though solid yet fleeting A thoughtful "I know" A thought "this is the last of it now" Small kindnesses we give each other Making it just a little bit more bearable Pain lives in the brain Pain you can exorcise methodically  If you just calm your frayed nerves Control your breath, gradually unflexing The tightly held fists The strained thigh and glute muscles Pain is thus, purely physical, if only you separate the you from the you feeling it Pain shared is pain saved Pain spoken about is pain dissipated Pain written about is pain cathartically removed

I made that arduous journey today I thought that thought I went there where the full spectrum of what I could imagine was realized Mind, very unkindly, stretched to its maximum Manifesting my deepest fear just through the power of thinking it, and without any transit A red eye to what feels like self destruction  At 3.33 am, am I to find my way back to sleepy oblivion? Or am I too doomed, try as I might: A mere prisoner locked in my own brain cells for the night? I won't make any bones about it anymore Had I faced the morning without this forced revelation, I would have been weak Lasted about a miserable week Before the thought, unthought and elusive Would sprung up unwanted and unbidden And then I'd be a body of just namesake bones Not in the least ready to face the onslaught The attack of the most unpleasant of all ideas That one day all that will be left is bones Soulless Of the ones I hold on to so tightly That I harbour attachment to beings who are but a phenomenon called

My cuticles are a reflection of my state of mind It's an unsightly habit I inherited from my father over time My pauses aren't impregnated with the unsaid But are intervals of quiet non evasive pondering on the bed Thoughts about plastic beaches in the middle of the South Pacific Of forgotten starships whose remains lay embedded in the ocean floor, quite pathetic Wondering whether they are being missed by their motherships Time travelling to a random summer vacation day through tiny water sips The year was 2002 Had we slept early we'd have been in a better mood We were on either side of mummy It was almost too bright, just intolerably sunny Counting mum, myself and my sibling A pack of three strolling toward the Shiv ling So many selective little things continue from one to another Mothers to daughters were once a daughter to their mother Saree draping, chapati baking, vernacular speaking Amongst many, these three I'd like to learn, I'm keeping And pass on to the n