Life Without Life

By Prajot Bhambhani

I have become exhausted.

I can’t even walk properly.

I drag my feet.

All my energy has been used up.

All the life in me has been sucked up

By some unknown force.

I don’t experience happiness, buoyancy or even shock anymore.

All that there is, is a yearning feeling for something.

There is also a feeling of being constricted.

As if somebody has tied up every organ of my body

And rendered it incapacitated to move.

I can’t even move a finger.

But I can see the world around me –

Full of life, all free to move,

Doing so many things, happy and vigorous.

But I am just sitting at one place, doing nothing –

Not because I can’t, but because I am tied up.

I don’t recall who tied me up, whether it was somebody else

Or it was I trying to open up some knots in my life

And go so entangled in them

That I can’t even budge an inch now.

It’s all a hazy blur now; it hardly matters.

It’s a maddening feeling but I am helpless.

I can’t loosen the knots myself.

I tried again and again

But I ended up tightening them even more.

Now I am afraid to try for the fear

That I might tighten them up so hard

That they squeeze me to death. I need help;

I need somebody to notice that I am all tied up and free me.

Even though there is a great hustle and bustle around me,

Nobody notices my plight.


Either they are too busy or they think that I deserve it.

It’s a devastating feeling to be unable to move


Even though I can see and think.

I feel like an Alzheimer’s patient.

I have so many thoughts about which I want to tell others.

Even I want to experience happiness and bliss.

But there is only a feeling of dejected hopelessness.

I wish I could talk but I can’t even do that.

I can’t even shout for help.

I am constricted in every single way.

I am afraid my mind will stop working.

I can already feel it slowing down.

I don’t want to die this way – all tied up.

I want to die of working hard and not struggling.

My mind that’s working and my breath that’s running

Are the only things at present that separate me from the dead.

But I also want to feel like a living person.

And so I am waiting.

Waiting for the right time to come.

But now it makes no difference to me

As I have become impervious to the passage of time.

Every moment seems as long as a lifetime,

But, ironically, without life.