THE FALL

ALEENA T SABU

Copyright © Aleena T Sabu All Rights Reserved. ISBN 978-1-68487-274-9 This book has been published with all efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. However, the author and the publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. While every effort has been made to avoid any mistake or omission, this publication is being sold on the condition and understanding that neither the author nor the publishers or printers would be liable in any manner to any person by reason of any mistake or omission in this publication or for any action taken or omitted to be taken or advice rendered or accepted on the basis of this work. For any defect in printing or binding the publishers will be liable only to replace the defective copy by another copy of this work then available.

"I hope you seek your true selves in people and things that you wish to cherish forever"

Contents Acknowledgements

vii

Prologue

ix

Heartbreak 1. Insomnia

3

2. Anxiety

7

3. Obvious To Pain

10

Change 4. I Found Him

13

5. Months

15

6. Fine Line

18

Lockdown And Reflection 7. Sunshine

23

8. Comfort

25

Perspective And Pain 9. Random Thoughts

29

10. Wrong Reasons

31

11. Fear//parts Of Myself

33

12. Smell Of Death

35

13. Time Machine

37

14. Friday

39

Revolution 15. Broken Window

43

16. Distract

46

17. Anarchy

48

•v•

Contents 18. Parallel Universe

50

Epilogue

53

About The Author

55

• vi •

Acknowledgements I wouldn’t know where to start from, because this journey wasn’t solely because of my effort but also the people who constantly supported me. Even though it’s a small journey it still means a lot to me. I would start by thanking my parents who had always bought these tiny books which was less in volume but more in quality. Those little books which had pictures in them made much more sense than what was taught in class to me, it was because of my parents I started reading, slowly a hobby became an obsession. Reading and finishing huge novels in a day’s gap always made people question my sanity but only my parents knew about my sleepless nights but never complained though, and I’ll always be grateful to them for letting me pursue whatever I wanted without any judgement. Just like my parents, my friends have always supported me, reading my works, giving their opinions and appreciations, making my heart feel lighter. Starting from middle school to college, everyone who had helped me along the path. People who constantly asked about my progress on the book, people who wanted me to write more, people who wanted me finish my book, I will forever be grateful to all of you. It was because of the constant push, I was able to write the book. And lastly to the people who have inspired me to write poetry, to the moments I was happy, sad, heartbroken, angry, jealous and all

• vii •

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

the other overwhelming emotions. To everyone single person who crossed my path and inspired me to write poetry. Thank you.

• viii •

Prologue I wouldn’t exactly know where to begin from, nor how to end things for that matter. I am not the ideal person when it comes to explaining the beginnings nor the end. I was the person who always focused on the in between moments that make your heart flutter a little more than you expected. The moments which linger around in your mind whenever you close your eyes for a second longer. Well, here’s to awkward beginnings then. My journey with writing started when I was in middle school. I was that child who was always lost in my thoughts at the corner of a library. The first ever piece I wrote was a poem about some random teenage memory. It never stopped there though, I continued to express my thoughts even when others couldn’t understand what was running around in my head. My words were precise and never confusing which made it easier for my friends to understand too, in fact they were my biggest supporters too, telling me to write more even on days I don’t see myself. And I’ll always be grateful for that. Like every other teenage girl, I used to scribble down all the sweet memories of school and how my day went in my personal diary. And I think that was the point where I realized my thoughts could be stories, poems, muses and much more than a diary entry. Things took a gradual turn when a very close friend of mine recommended Wattpad to me when I was in 10th Grade. Although the first story I wrote is very embarrassing now that I think about it and something I clearly don’t

• ix •

PROLOGUE

want to remember. Well, we all have our firsts and most of us aren’t proud of it, I’m clearly not proud but when I look back at it, I see myself in a different light, one which only comes out in my writings and that was one lesson learned for me or that’s how I console myself. Moving on, college was the one place where I really realized my potential and it was mostly because of my society members. Meraki, then became a safe space and a home away from home to express myself. I never knew I would grow and become a performer of my own poetry, until I joined college. Now writing poetry is one thing, but performing it is another because you are performing your thoughts, your beliefs and a part of yourself in front of countless strangers whom you wish to identify yourselves with through your words. I was always afraid and stubled upon my words for the first few performances but the crowd was always supportive, the DU poetry circuit was always welcoming and warm for every newbie. It always made things easier than last time. Writing a book and publishing it was something I had always dreamed of. When you’re a kid you will always have dreams which change every single time someone asks but the idea of becoming an author never disappeared from the back of my mind even for a single second, because having something tangible in your hands which is solely yours is a feeling which can never be experienced elsewhere. I have created different sections of the evolution of my poetry, so that everyone could see how my poetry has evolved across time.

•x•

Heartbreak My first performing poem was after a heartbreak. And more than anything performing it in front of an audience healed my heart in ways nothing else could. Poetry then became an escape from everything life threw at me. And I wanted to start this book with my first poem titled ‘Insomnia’. Just like ‘Insomnia’, ‘Anxiety’ is also close to my heart as this was the last poem I performed before the pandemic happened. My last memory of a poetry slam was performing ‘Anxiety’ on stage, expressing my voice and hearing snaps in between my breaths.

1. Insomnia Since the day you left Insomnia kept me company. Sometimes it felt like you sent her to keep me less lonely. oh, Should I feel thankful now that you thought of my wellbeing?

You once asked me if I loved poetry more than you. And I said poetry but what you didn’t know was that my love, You were my biggest poetry. And insomnia kept me awake to write beautiful poems which capture our brutally honest memories.

My love for you is as much as my love for poetry. And Insomnia keeps me awake to cherish all the times we had together. 4 AM in the morning Insomnia doesn’t leave me alone just like you did. It kept me close wrapping its arms around me protecting me like a child. “It’s only me. No one else. •3•

THE FALL

Don’t you trust me. If you had trusted me, you wouldn’t have said no”. You were very good at it. The emotional blackmailing. You have had it in you since your childhood. Did your father give it to you? Did he teach you to do this? Did he ask you to treat every woman you meet the same way he treated your mother and when I think about the endless promises you give me after countless fights we had where you claimed that I am not my father. Darling I see you as a hypocrite. And I was your muse. Insomnia says I speak less these days and I smile more. Now when did she learn to lie so well? Did you teach her while I was gone? Did you ask her how I was? Insomnia seemed so fond of our memories that she never lets me sleep. She never lets out of our home. She was very protective of me. She never lets me talk to anyone. She was so possessive. •4•

ALEENA T SABU

She wanted me all to herself. I started to eat less. Talk less. Smile less because insomnia said she didn’t like it when I did it. She asked me to cut my hair. I cut it short. Very short. I stopped combing it. Don’t bother asking why. I knew this was coming. Insomnia would soon leave me too like everyone else did I had to leave before she did. I thought to myself. Did I seem stupid. Did I? But I had no choice. Insomnia is leaving. I can’t let her. It pained but not as much as before. I could feel the pleasure running through me as I drew the knife close just like how he did when he got angry.

•5•