So what have you learnt so far

So what have you learnt so far,

Apart from what everyone keeps telling you- 

that you should learn algebra, sit like a lady-

 straightbacked, hands folded,  crossed legged,

 to close your mouth when you chew your food

 and definitely definitely not talk while chewing,

 write in such a way to please the examiner

 and better your handwriting, keep your room clean

 and to organise your wardrobe so that a mountain

 of clothes and miscellaneous objects(probably love

 letters received and hate/apology letters never sent) 

don’t descend on you like an avalanche when you

 open your cupboard, to lock up everything you

 can possible lock(but you can’t conceive why

 anyone would waste their energy stealing

 worthless things that you own),

You have learnt to not kick rocks when  Madgirl

 drives you crazy(with rage ofcourse), to hold on to J

 even when things get difficult and he talks in the way

 that reminds you of departures and makes you cry

 but it still makes sense to hold on because you both 

are worth holding on to, to preserve letters even if

 they are absurd and illegible and never sent because

 you were what you wrote and you are what

 you are writing, to walk as much as possible 

as long as there is no risk of heatstroke or being robbed

 and other horrid things because it makes you feel  healthy

 and less fat and the most engaging conversations can take place, 

you miss home but you dread it and it is something you

 will take a lifetime to figure out but then again these might

 be one of those things which are never fully understood 

and that’s why you obsess over it so much.

You know how you are at nineteen

You know how you are at nineteen,

halfway through despair and hope,

 trying to quit some things, trying to

pick up a few fallen dreams, stepping on

 crunchy brown leaves, talking a wrong

turn on the way to the dentist, feeling as

scared as you were at six when you suffered

 your first toothache, and finding a florist,

your eyes feasting on riot of colours

each bunch more lovelier than the other

 yellow daffodils just the way Wordsworth

 described them, violet gladiolus, pristine white lilies,

 though you trampled on your mother’s flower beds

as a child and delighted in plucking them, intending it

 for prayer services to a deity of toy- blonde blue-eyed

teen on a her red convertible, the envy of

 the neighbouring kids, and then you think

of how you would be a twenty-something, with a house

of your own-furnished with white curtains with delicate

 prints of carnations daintily flying to welcome you

as you open your door, a warm red rug

 at the centre of your living room, yellow chairs

in the kitchen, shelves of books in every room,

 a clock from a street in St. Moritz, the wall hanging

 from Rangoon and other things, because by then

you would have been to a few places, covered 1/110^th of the world,

 so  you imagine how at twenty-something,

you would pick up a bunch of flowers and head home?

MadGirl's Birthday

You look absurd

With that frown on your face

Strange objects perched on your head

Exhibiting terrible grins,

(Only you know what I am talking about)

Old pictures.Your birthday.

Another one has you twirling your hair.

Staring into space.

White and blue tadpoles.Books piled up.

My back turned against the camera.

My hands blurred as I reached out

To snatch the book from your hands.