Just a thought

It is but natural that a native would be more acquainted with the nuances of his or her own language. Translating the thought into a language that you are familiar with but not rooted in often results in what I would call ‘grammar casualties.’ In India, English is one such language which is repeatedly raped and mutilated by the multitudes. Definitely not an offence, but in the global scenario, especially when we are talking of business documents that are not restricted to the Indian sub-continent, the least you can expect is a wee bit of basic knowledge of grammar. Religiously reading an Amish may not necessarily solve the intrinsic issue of dialectic differences and logical nitty-gritty of language. The mother or the parent from which respective languages have perpetrated from plays a vital role in determining common mistakes; those whose mother-tongues have diverged from Sanskrit can learn or pick up the logic in languages with a similar origin but English is rooted in a million tongues – Briton, Anglo-Saxon, Hebrew and even Indian. How many of us have ever bothered to read the origin of a word in an English dictionary; and if we have, words like ‘gherao’, that now feature in the Oxford English dictionary may have definitely caught our attention. A language which is as flexible as English would be customized and localized – so what initially begins as pidgin English slowly evolves to a more robust form, like it has in India. Given the Indian fascination with formality in written language the tone is generally not colloquial; and the lengthy convoluted sentences send out a loud and clear message that it is an Indian author.  

Poor Little Girl

I am a poor little girl,

A very poor little girl,

Struggling with her emotions,

Trying to hoard them in herself,

I cry aloud

And I laugh hysterically

I am just this poor little girl

That everyone calls a friend.

I wish I could undo many a thing

Make life a little less satiric

But the irony of it all

Is,

I am a poor little girl,

Trying to hoard my emotions in myself

I cry when someone else is hurt,

I laugh with another in his joy

I wish I could live life free

Of all my silliness

And never again be called

“This poor little girl”

Hoarding emotions within!

In all these years with grey hairs blinking at me

I still am a poor little girl

Trying to hoard her emotions

And not wiser still!

So I am angry and hurt,

When someone’s so curt...

I only wish I could be a little more inert

I’d never then have to taste dirt,

I am a poor little girl for you...

But the more you mock me...

The more I know

It is not because I am this poor little girl

But because it does not matter

When you never flatter

Me...

I am happy because

No one can ever be

Simple and soothing

Like this poor little girl can be!

And I know you call me a poor little girl

Hiding behind my emotions

And blaming them on me

There will be a time 

When I'd not be the garb to cover 

What you feel

When you will be all alone 

Facing your emotions

And wanting to share it with the

Poor little girl me...

And I'd say:

Poor little boy you!

Life after marriage!

It was all dream and fantasy:

The fairy tale love

The ever after.

And now I know why

All fairy tales end

The way they do,

Because when you tie the knot

Love becomes a not

And everything comes tumbling thereafter.

Your little hopes,

Your wishes,

Your dreams,

For all that is there:

Are angry words

Screams

And bitter days ahead.

You cannot walk-out;

You cannot walk-away;

You cannot walk;

You cannot talk!

Paralyzed and hurt

You lie,

And bear with it

Till the day you die!

If you dare,

Then you’ll be alone,

For they’d cite all social causes,

And there are always the emotional clauses;

And every day you’d wish you could rewind

Go back in time and say the ‘no.’

That ‘no’ that would have given you the joy you always had;

The ‘no’ that would have never dried your smile;

The ‘no’ that would have made life worthwhile!

But truth is,

You were fooled by those fairy tales,

And now you know not whom to blame,

You’re now part of this game,

And it’s a shame!

So you breathe

Not live,

And wait to live another fantasy,

But only in hope,

(Or in dope)

And it’s not going to be easy!