Her world through an open window 

The open window,
Is Gayatri’s only portal to the outside world,

Because there is ice in her legs,

That has frozen,

Numbing her legs,

Saving from constantly hurting her toe against the edges of the staircase.

At least that is what Ma(Mother)told her.

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.
☆☆☆☆
Her butterfly heart flutters,

As the wind caresses her face,

But more often than she wishes to acknowledge,

She must remember- that dreams and capabilities are two different words.

She dreams to run towards the setting sun,

Which gets lost somewhere on the other side of the horizon.

The open window lets her see this much only.

☆☆☆☆
From the open window,

Gayatri can see little Tanvi riding the bicycle,

Her legs unfrozen,

Moving in perfect harmony like the sun moves up and down the horizon.

Gayatri smiles looking at her four wheeled wheelchair,

Remembering how Ma (Mother)told her- that the number of wheels decided the worth of a vehicle. 

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.

☆☆☆☆
From the open window,

The sun rises up the horizon.

No cuckoos have time to wake up Gayatri.

The sun is Gayatri’s cuckoo.

With the rising sun,

Comes Baba(Dad) too,

A genial smile plastered on his face.

He comes from the other side of the horizon,

Where cuckoos sing,

And unicorns ride on rainbows,

Where the sun never sets.

That is why Baba(Dad) doesn’t like Gayatri’s house.

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.

☆☆☆☆
From the open window,

Gayatri can see herself running in the meadows,

The raindrops colouring the blank canvas of her body,

The wet mud spread all over her like streaks of brown paint.

Ma (Mother) is painted completely in brown,

Like a wretched painting without art,

Lying on the ground,

Outside Gayatri’s window.

Baba(Dad) is a bad painter.
In all this rain, 

Ma’s  (Mother’s) eyes have decided to help too,

Trying to wash away the dark colour she seems to be coloured in.

The sun has decided to part with Gayatri and Mark. 

Ma tells Gayatri that the nights are shorter in this season.

Ma(Mother) is a good liar.
☆☆☆☆
From the open window,

Seven seasons have passed,

But the sun hasn’t returned.

It has been the longest night in Gayatri’s life.

Life has just been a 90’s film,

Of black and white.

Baba’s (Dad’s)genial smile,

And the stories of unicorns and supernatural beings have stopped,

Ma has stopped talking too.

She just sits in a corner silently,

As if her legs have frozen too.

Maybe she got tired of hurting too.

☆☆☆☆
There is light every morning,

And dark every night,

But who would tell Gayatri’s wretched soul,

That Baba’s (Dad’s)smile was her cuckoo,

And sometimes cuckoos fly away,

Because the other side of the horizon is a beautiful place.

☆☆☆☆
But who would tell Gayatri that sometimes,

Like her legs,

Hearts froze too,

Numbing it from getting hurt over and over again.

☆☆☆☆
But who in this whole wide world,

Will tell a little girl, 

Waiting for this night to end,

That her mother was a liar.

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