I’m a wounded…


I wanted to see you in person but these days when I’m down in spirits, I’m finding it really hard to leave my room. This morning, I mustered up my courage and after a week of living a secluded life in my room, I finally peeped out of my window and saw children laughing and playing in the street.

The world has already ended for me and I’m amazed how anyone on earth can feel so happy.

Please Dr, I’m not ill. I’ve just checked my temperature, it’s normal. My pulse rate is fine but I’ve this strange sensation that I’m sure that sooner or later I’m going to bid my farewell to this world.

I’ve just Googled my symptoms but found nothing that could fit well with my condition.

Now, it’s been an hour that I looked in the mirror and found my eyes puffy and while trying to write the draft for this mail, I found it hard to concentrate. These days despite my utmost efforts I’m unable to focus and while talking with my family, my mind is continuously taking a ramble in that strong world of imagination.

Everyone at home is sure that my mental state is not good but what they don’t understand is the fact that I only want a reassurance.

The mere sentence that the show that I had been busy watching in these past days hadn’t ended can bring a whiff of hope for me.

I’ve pleaded and I’ve requested them but all they’re saying is this that I needed to accept the reality.

I wanted to see you but couldn’t find the heart to leave my laptop. The last episode of the last season is open on my screen. I didn’t count but I’m sure I had already watched it for at least hundreds of times.

With no apparent reason of any disease, my health is deteriorating day-by-day. No one at home is happy for me. I really want your help and waiting anxiously for your reply.

I’m a wounded binge-watcher


Poppies in October!


Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.

Nor the woman in the ambulance

Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly—


A gift, a love gift

Utterly unasked for

By a sky


Palely and flamily

Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes

Dulled to a hault under bowlers,


O my God, what am I

That these late mouths should cry open

In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers 

(Sylvia Plath)


This morning is bright and with sun smiling in the sky, I’m glad that I’m reading this beautiful poem.

While searching on internet, I came to know that Poppy is a symbol of death, peace and sleep. Its red color symbolizes death and perhaps it’s a reason that “Remembrance Day” is also known as “Poppy day”.

The poetess describes Poppies as a symbol of hope. For, the woman lying in ambulance is also spell bound. Sylvia Plath is talking about her earlier suicide attempt and her good luck of surviving it. Indeed, it’s an unasked gift from a sky and these scarlet color poppies act like a whiff of fresh air in a forest of frost.

Have you read this poem? What are your observations regarding these flowers?