“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear”

-C. S. Lewis

I was looking at the cup of tea on the table next to father's chair, from which the steam had almost stopped. Even after hearing Mother's voice several times, father eyes were fixed just on the newspaper which he was reading word by word, as was his old habit. He always presumed that we all liked this habit of his. She didn't like Father reading the newspaper in this manner. She still tends to make a twisted face while she mocks Father. When the father saw the mother and pretended to straighten his glasses, the mother would smile as if she was listening to him intently.

At that time, I was working on a new poem. I was finishing the same poem as my father and mother were communicating without saying anything.

It gets dark before you blink - and it keeps going.

It seems to me that a thief is slithering around in the cold at night.

I’m not sleeping again, and I’m having nightmares about fleeing.

It used to make sense, but now it's just a game.

I'm still thinking about your demeanor, and how much sadness you exude.

There are sounds coming from the attic.

I'm not sure what they're saying.

Their shadow falls on the floor.

When I'm walking, I hear echoes.

At the top of the stairs, there is a squeak.

I'm waiting for my name to be called.

I'm still hoping that someone will find me.

But no one ever comes, and I'm completely alone.

I no longer want to live in this house.

All of my memories are now haunting me.

I no longer want to live in this house.

Yeah, all the memories are haunting me now.

I no longer want to live in this house.

I was experiencing sadness for a while and attempted to express it through my poetry.

"What are your plans for the future? Have you considered anything?", As soon as my father said this, I raised my head, looked up, and replied quickly, "I've considered studying engineering.".

By telling a joke to my father, I attempted to guard my idea of pursuing Engineering.

An engineer was crossing a road one day, when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful princess." He bent over, picked up the frog and put it in his pocket.

The frog then cried out, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want."

Again, the engineer took the frog out, smiled, and put it back into his pocket.

Finally, the frog asked, "What is the matter? I've told you I'm a beautiful princess and that I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?"

The engineer said, "Look, I'm an engineer. I don't have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog, now that's cool.".

When father heard the joke, he remained silent for a moment before saying aloud to mother," He wants to be an engineer because of a dumb princess. If he continues to think like this, he will not become an engineer, but rather a frog.".

Then he smiled and said, "Go live your life. Do the engineering.". I felt as if I had wings when I found out this bird was going to fly out of the house and hop into the courtyard of the hostel.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We had passed Faridabad, and nearly everyone on the bus had fallen asleep. Due to the sheer heat and humidity outside the bus, everyone had to open their windows. My heart began to ache once more. I had no idea what was going on with me these days. It appeared that someone was secretly watching me at all the times. Outside, the trees were swaying in the wind, as if they were saying goodbye for the last time as they waved their hands. My thoughts went haywire as the driver abruptly applied the brakes; everyone got up to peer through the bus's front glass. Even in the midst of the chaos, I had the impression that two eyes were staring at me, and the thought made my body shiver.

I can sense your presence while I'm alone.

In the dark, you're following me.

My heart is racing, and my pulse is quickening; You know I can't see you, but yet I sense you.

My heart is racing, ooh.

Yes, you're messing with my head. 

So, why are you secretly watching me?

While humming this poem, I realized that these eyes are with me at all times, day or night, dream or reality.

In the bus, the driver started playing a soft classic melody on the radio. After hearing that song, my sadness returned, prompting me to recite an old poem.

I just want to be a part of this crazy world, no matter how crazy it is.

That sheltered life is no longer appealing to me.

I'm looking for blood and dirt, tears and sweat.

I'd like to know how you taste and how you feel.

I want glory and sorrow, and I want to share them with you.

As soon as the bus stopped and I went straight to the hostel, it was 6 p.m., and I wrote our names in the register with my father at the college gate. The hostel warden himself greeted us at the gate of the hostel. This bald warden was in charge of the hostel. "Das", was his name. He was a terrible person and would always berate the students. His bad attitude made him the most hated person in the hostel.

Actually, A person's unpopularity precedes him.

The warden has been in charge for over 6 years, and he has never changed his ways. Because he was so well-known for being rude and mean-spirited, he found it difficult to make any connection with new students of the hostel. Because of this, the students intended to ridicule him as soon as they found a way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Those two eyes were staring at me even as I stepped into the hostel. The hostel looked even scarier in the evening. When I looked at my father, it appeared that we were communicating through our minds.

It was a scary place, like a necropolis.

My father said, "You are not coming home son."

"It's a sign of weakness," he said.

I'm not coming home, and I don't know why.

Leaving the ground floor room assigned in the first phase, Father and I rode up to the first-floor room. Our path would take us through dark corridors and old walls to the end, where our destination awaited. Then there was a piece of paper on the floor and the adjacent corner of the wall on the left side. I went ahead and picked it up, only to discover that it was an old paper with some bad writing. There were red ink smears on the paper, which had turned black after being exposed to light.

“Blood! It might be blood.”I thought.

My thoughts were jumbled when a person approached looking for something, snatched the paper from my grasp, and walked down the small corridor leading to the rooms.

I was astounded to see what was allotted to three people in Room No. 116. Three small bunk beds and same number of almirahs, chair and tables are furnished. When I saw the state of the room for a second, a poem began to form.

When you stay for a night, there'll always be room for you, my friend.

Nor for a small TV with poor reception.

Regrettably, sometimes when you end up staying, the room will still be in worse condition.

The mold in the ceiling will give you a migraine.

The toothbrush belongs to someone else, and you're borrowing a towel.

A few crumbs and an insect or two

The trash keeps piling up, and all that you can hear is noise.

Hey, I'm staying in the worst condition - Oh no, don't take me in!

Hey, I'm staying in the worst condition - Oh no, don't make me stay!

Judging by the state of my room, I thought that I should inspect the condition of the room next door, who shall be my primary trash competitor?

I had a very good meeting with two or three students, but I was not particularly pleased with the student who was placing the book on his feet on the last bed on the right. He lifts his head and those eyes immediately looked through me. Those eyes remind me of the ones, that used to terrify me in my dreams and followed me around all the time. Suddenly, as is my habit, some verses started to roll through my mind which completed my rough draft that was in my head all the time while I was travelling.

The one who's been there since the beginning, and no matter how hard I try to deny it,

You're following me in the dark even though you swear that you're not there at all.

I can see your dark eyes discreetly watching me.

I'm aware you're anticipating my arrival.

I can sense your presence close to me.

You're keeping such a close eye on me.

So, why are you secretly watching me while reacting to my friendly gesture, he shook his head and ended up looking as if contemplating whether my standard was noteworthy or not to Ankur Dixit. I ignored him and turned to face the student in the middle chair, saying,

"Good evening there! Hello, my name is Akshay.”