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Rohit Das

Abstract Drama Inspirational

4.6  

Rohit Das

Abstract Drama Inspirational

Souvenir

Souvenir

2 mins
152


It wasn't unnatural for me

To overlook 

Every aspect of mine

That raised eyebrows.

The age was tender

And little did I know,

What made me rebellious

Should have made me aware,

Aware of the flaws

That blotted my canvas.


Perhaps I knew,

Yet could not accept.

The reluctance to admit

Won the conflict

With the will to improve.

The poison remained,

Stockpiling with time.


My conscience screeched

But never could I

Acknowledge my mistakes.

They grew.

I grew.

And now it was just

A matter of time

Before everything struck

All together,

Mercilessly.


An age-old proverb

Never failed to remind me

That it happened "for" me

And all this while,

Failed friendships,

Unrepairable distrust,

Mutual hatred

And the disbelief

Of ever being wrong

Made my stubbornness feel

That it happened "to" me.


The failure of righteousness

Never bent my spine,

And no relationship could fix it

As clichés would conclude.

Skeptical as I am,

I never believed in karma.

Yet it met me

And not as the "bitch"

Youth proclaims it to be.


Apprehension never came

In bits and fragments.

It came all at once,

Ruthlessly yet mildly.

History has it,

The ones who change thereafter

Reside inevitably in hearts.

While the ones who don't,

Are gifted with an afterlife

Called abomination.


The streets were clear

Yet the pedestrian,

Kept flinching to cross.

The ignorance was clearer

As passersby

"Minded their own business".

That's what most say.

What else could one do?

That's how it works right?

Not an inch 

Could I move,

Yet my tears moved several

To reach my chin.


I don't remember moving,

And yet I was near her.

I don't remember crossing,

Though I found myself

Not quite at a destination,

But more at redemption.

Hands clasped

With whose eyes shined

Brighter than usual,

She looked

Through those dark shades,

And all that followed

Was a smile

Reverberating with gratitude.


The tales might now follow

"All the protagonist

Was left with

Was a sense of mirth

And he could do nothing

But rejoice in laughter."

The opposite happened,

And quite strangely,

Tears were all I had

To express my agitation.


That smile was a souvenir

I carry till date

In the deepest crevices

Of my memory,

For conscience needs a stir

And that has been mine,

Ever since.

Mistakes are mutual,

But enlightenment is individual.


I finally knew what hurt me

Were my choices,

People or the path of life.

My route was toxic,

Never did I know

It made me so.

Never did I know

It will be a sweeter route

Knowing that I am toxic

And will find salvation

At the destination.


That was my very route

From one end of the street

To the other.

And now I bind it in this poem,

For souvenirs

Are eternal,

And my choice

Is to wrap my acceptance

With the words

That finally know me

As I was,

As I am,

In a journey

Where I found myself.


The conflict still remains.

Was it me

Who helped?

Or the blind pedestrian?

The conflict brings a smile,

I'm yet to know why.

All I can apprehend

Is that it widens

When I recall my souvenir.


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