The Woman with the Undying Heart

I am not pragmatic, no I am not. I do not view life as a series of decisions/choices one has to make. I view life as a motion of emotions. I feel hurt more than most because I have never learnt to separate my aspirations from my decisions.

I see myself evaporating like the wisps of vapour from the cigarettes I smoke. I cringe at the conceit and lies of people who have shown me kindness hitherto. I cringe at the hypocrisy, the duplicity of thoughts. I falter everytime I have to be strong. I have lived a thousand deaths and I have died a thousand lives, all in a span of a decade. I have sought refuge in love while I have been out of my mind. I have been homesick for a state of mind: where I am comfortably numb if not deliriously happy. I have chosen happiness over anxiety, poetry over desolation, despite the clamours of skeletons in my head.

I am overwhelmed by my own reactions to what life throws at me. Because I cannot see beyond the repeated injustice towards a heart that is free of malice. I trained myself to be free from the burden of a wounded mind that I carry. I succeeded to some extent. But some stains of life are permanent and some scars dormant.

Words give me solace. They are my only refuge, not an escape. I cannot escape this life, I am responsible for other lives as well, innocent lives. Hence I write, pouring out my heart on paper, making myself vulnerable to all who read. Showing weakness is shunned upon. I don’t care about weaknesses. I care about strengths: the strength to say I am struggling. The strength to say I am in pain. The strength to say I am on the verge of a breakdown. The strength to say I am only human.

When I die, I want to be able to tell myself I lived with truth, I fought my mind with my heart. My eyes smiled to passersby even when my bones were breaking and my mind was going berserk. And that is how I want to be remembered forever:
The woman with the undying heart.



You know so well
what you are to me
or maybe not, there are questions in your eyes
I can see
I have questions in my heart
I try not to show

I am no ordinary woman
just so you know
I am made up of fire and ice
I know no in-betweens
I walk with you one step
at a time

We may fall madly in love
It terrifies you I know
Ease up darling
I’m done cooking up storms
Let’s just flow
I’m cooking you a soup
you may drown in if you will
I’ll hold your hand and bathe you
until the questions rub off you
You can then rest
Your answer on my chest
and go to sleep
knowing love is fickle
The bond is deep.

© Nandita Manan Yata


Here’s to
the dark circles
that adorn our eyes
speaking of stories that we
share till twilight
The honesty between us
so raw,
it makes us vulnerable
and strong
at the same time.

Here’s to
the unsaid words dangling
on your lips with
deep emotions underneath.
The silence that we enjoy
in our conversations
and the sentiments we understand.
The laughter that
bring us close,
so close that I can feel
your hand on my heart
as I write
these lines for you

Here’s to
the authority with which
you hold me
And to the vulnerability
with which you uncover
yourself to me.

Here’s to the lyrics you sing
from the words I write.

Here’s to you
and the unseen side of you
you have shown me.

Here’s to
the magic that
is you
to the poetry that
is me.

©Nandita Manan Yata


They Rise When I Fall

when I’m old and gray
and have made
a mark for myself
and people will remember my name

I will remember those
who held my hand
gave me their hopes
dreams encouragement
for me to believe
that I have made
a difference in their lives
I touched them
through the words
I endlessly spun

Their names
I will have etched
upon my chest
when they put me to rest

So shall they rise
when I fall.

© Nandita Manan Yata 10 Aug 2021.

*As a request by Chuck (the Reluctant Poet) to post this here.

Don’t Look Back in Anger

Don’t look back in anger
at the laughter that once roared
off the spaces
but now tastes
like the sea
when memories roll down
cheeks helplessly

Don’t look back in anger
at wounded stories of
devastating hopes, and
martyred dreams

Don’t look back in anger
not when there has been
so much love
to outweigh any bitterness
that broken hearts are
brainwashed to find a way
to lick the fresh wounds

Don’t look back in anger
Instead, look back with love at the love
that once defined You and Me.


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