They Say She Was Crushed to Death – A Poetry

Poetry by Nikhil Chandwani

People, since the start of human civilization, have wondered aloud, and otherwise, their opinions on the four-letter word that catches a storm in a teacup. They have boasted of hypotheses and jumped to conclusions. They have dug up the roots of the human body and mind to provide satisfactory answers. They have performed experiments, pooled opinions, organized discussions, studied behavioral pie-charts, and tried in every which way to define the feeling of love. Yet the same people get confused when confronted with the same dilemma in their own lives. So what exactly is love?

The definition of love is like a remote island, deep in the heart of the ocean. Anyone attempting to reach can only come close but cannot touch land. Similarly, you can only ‘try’ to describe love; your description may be correct to an extent, but it can never hit the bull’s eye. The reason is not your flaws and incompetence; it is just that the description is in the perception of the person trying to define it, and perceptions alter. So, instead of trying to do the unthinkable, let’s just dwell on the taste of love and ignore the recipe behind it!

You know you are really in love when you feel another person’s power is more imposing on your life than your own opinions and ideas. You start thinking in terms of the individual you are in love with. You want to make yourself deserving of that individual, placing that soul on a higher pedestal always. You are always in suspicion as to what you should do to make them happy and what you should not. You are ready to take the blame and hurt on yourself rather than let your loved one crease forehead in concern. You feel the entire world is against you, and no one is your buddy. You live in a bubble of your own where entry is restricted only to people who understand the significance of that world.

Here is a poem I wrote where two loved ones are separated on the foothills of young Himalayas. You can sing this. In this piece, I went with a double speaker poem. First the man’s insistence on waiting, then the girl’s spirit’s pain at watching him, followed by a brief reunion. I considered having the man freeze to death for an actual reunion, but I can’t imagine that being a happy ending for the spirit watching over him.

The boy’s narration is in standard fonts & the girl’s narration is in italics. Swipe next and read. 

Enjoy 🙂 

Staring up at the silent Himalayas,
I wait for my love to return.
They say she was crushed to death,
but I’ve so much time to burn.

What is life without a lover?
The snow shimmers and shines.
I know that she will be here
and that she is mine to find.

Work and home were worthless.
I could not find her there.
My family foolishly resisted
but I cannot say I really care.

People do not simply vanish.
Surely the coffin was fake.
I will be here for my lover,
however long she takes.

Everyday I watch my lover.
He stares up soft into the sky.
He’s so dangerously close
to the place where I did die.

Any moment he might join me
if an avalanche finds him here,
yet I find no solace in it,
no reason to clap and cheer.

He made my life worth living
and I died with no regrets.
I’d move on to wait for him,
but I’m scared for him instead.

Tonight the cold will be relentless
and I will ride it down to speak.
I must warn my faithful lover
even if my voice on earth is weak.

Slumbering in my cozy cabin
for the first time in three days,
I saw her face at long last
but had no time to be amazed.

You must not be here, my love,
she said with trembling lips.
I want to see you happy still.
You have so much life to give!

I stare up at her in disbelief
between dreams and waking life.
Why would I leave without you?
Why would you wish me strife?

I know that grieving hurts the soul
but the watching hurts me more.
Go home to both our families.
Your heart still has love to pour.

I awake in shock, feeling suddenly alone.
A single tear glides down my cheek.
I now know my love has ridden home.

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