The Jar of memories I will not visit   Like the stars in a galaxy My happy memories shine brightly.   The moments of despair and darkness I’ve imprisoned in a jar, sealed tightly.   I never want to remember. My encounters with Science or numbers.   Or the days I lost Ma and Pa And my dear friend Vibha.   The darkness of the day When a certain diagnosis was made.   I hated the call. That warned me of a financial squall.   Broken friendships Trust turned to rust. I hate them all.   As heavy as elephants As  dark as the night These are memories. I shall keep Out of my light. 

I'm   a clear glass jar. When you brought me home, I was full of sweet, flavourful strawberry jam. When the last of the jam had been scraped out and finished, I thought my fate was sealed. I would be trash. However, like many Indian homes, you decided to keep me, and just like that, you saved my life. Ah! Sustainability and reuse! However, I feel like a nomad. One day, I’m sitting on your kitchen shelf, filled with some aromatic masala or pickle; the next, I’m chilling in your fridge full of homemade hummus or letting your oats have a good overnight soak. Then I find myself in your closet in a piggy bank avatar. Who am I? I’m suffering from a full-blown identity crisis. Then I get pushed to the back of beyond for months, lost and forgotten, and suddenly, when you’re on a cleaning mission, you rediscover me and hug me like a long-lost friend and give me prime importance in your kitchen.  On the kitchen shelf, when I'm labelled neatly, I feel important and organised. ...