The Uncherished

a poem by NILANJANA HALDAR, India


(Dedicated to Adults (Parents Included) Who Never Had the Chance to Explore their Passions (live a more fulfilled life), either due to Poverty/Neglect/Ignorance/ Marriage/ Being-The-Unfavored-Child/ No Internet/ Loving Support/ Resources/Guidance)

A Truth, I reckon, and this is something your world never told you,
Living unceremoniously amidst the people you always knew
When everyday had to be an empty empty world,
And you non-existent around the very eyes your life swirled,
You existed either to resource the pleas, joys of another
Or to allow a writer to sketch as the abandoned mother or father.
If this was something only you fulfilled; a role like no other
Can it quieten your question, “What life would I have had rather?”

They painfully tread over your one treasured, mother-scented bedsheet,
Your cold spouse leaves, hassling relatives at home don’t feel your mind overheat,
It is despicable for me, a freethinker, but you have normalised this every day
So habituated to participate in another’s joy that you deny how much they weigh.
But maybe that’s why you were created, to be the source of another’s comfort,
Or once again, for a writer like me, showing the world this too is a way someone has suffered.
If this was something only you fulfilled; a role like no other
Can it quieten your question, “What life would I have had rather?”

I don’t know you but I have sensed you hold back the urge to cry,
I have sensed you hold back helpless pleas, words people don’t buy,
Because somewhere down the line you sensed that you were favoured a lot less,
Certain they were deaf to your voice, as certain as a stain that wouldn’t leave a dress.
Just how relaxed could you really get tending their clothes, groceries, food, I wonder
Comforting their Lives, enduring their expressions that stated, “You were a blunder.”
But if you were the silent legs that that held them, supported them; a role like no other
Can it somehow quieten your question, “What life would I have had rather?”

The other day the lad with the Korean haircut inhaled his last breath,
He was a mere 18 when his heart quit forever as he embraced his death,
He wrote a silent letter addressed to nobody and yet described as ‘Dear (dash)’
Then he went, “Today I speak not about me, but you who daily feels like trash.
Today I grant my heart to you and bleed them into this paper where you may find them.
I existed a non-existent, I loved remaining unloved in circles from where I came,
So, I allow my life to matter at this moment of death, loving you, a stranger like no other,
You matter to me, so let me quieten your question, “What life would I have had rather?”


—Written by Miss Nilanjana Haldar



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