Chimera- now lost

While we grow up, we develope interests in various things, activities. It’s cute how when we’re small, our parents expect us to try our hands in every field and puddle ourselves stuck with our hands and legs in different directioms comprehending to learn everything and yet learn nothing. 

As we grow more, we get attached to certain notions and develope an artistic taste for things around us. Be it in for music, singing, paint, writing, dance, photography. 

It’s all adorable and sweet until we reach 13. That is the threshold, after that we’re not supposed to maintain our likes for the same. Yes, we can keep it as a hobby or maybe something that our parents can boast about and show off at parties, mentioning “oh! My child knows how to play drums and is an exellent painter.”

But dare not that screw up your result. Below 80% is a shame. That is what decides the calibre of a child and suddenly the status point comes down to -1. It’s funny how marks become important than the child. I’m glad I didn’t had to face such situations when I was in school, of course considering I was an average child and my parents never had any expectations from me. They have my elder sister to fulfill their desires and my younger brother being “ghar ka chirag”. I’m basically the extra waste that happens to tag along everywhere. What I consider as my talents include poetry and baking, and both are useless according to my dad. He, being a desi dad is obviously always disappointed with me.

 Recently my wish to volunteer and work in social and media sector was blown away with ‘beta govt job and security because you’re incapable of anything else and not made for the above fields you mentined.’ So here’s to my wings that broke but unlike the butterfly, I’m quite alive.

Image courtesy- Sakshi Srivastava

A caterpillar rising, 

New to the changes,

Reluctant to move,

Nervous to try,

Couldn’t crawl,

The ground was not its height .

Frantic with worry,

A knack for ground,

And fear of heights ,

The wings were no gift

The wings were a lie.

Perhaps it was never aware,

For the fly to dream care;

Yesterday it was an insect 

Squirming its way to the hole

Never knew what nature had

Striking fear to goals.

Astonished and happy?

Or nervous and muddled?

With one big shoot,

The pinion did the magic

For all the colours now sprinkled 

Butterfly was indeed,

Living up to reaching the blue,

Coming out of cocoon was the best day

Just like so, the depression goes away

Dazzled was the heart

Radiant the sky

Another caterpillar lived its dream;

Never to come back, 

Fly, fly away

Buttetfly fly away.

Finding its soul,

Breathing out,

From being grounded,

To flying above

Before, its wings are crushed,

And it falls to reality down;

For, it does not re-live the colors again

No, it doesn’t return to the mud and grass,

A loss of life,

The lost rainbow,

Another delusion,

The lost intent,

An artist, how so cries,

But, the blood bleeds blue;

The tears so dry,

A chimera- undefined,

A notion- unfinished,

A dream- false.

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4 thoughts on “Chimera- now lost

  1. Very direct and well depicted notion that still lingers in the middle class of our country.
    Keep doing it. I believe your write it from your emotions and this poem is just a beautifully crafted depiction of the same.
    Good luck!

    Liked by 1 person

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