Rootless Existence: A dissection through photo poetry

There are margins and in margins lay a bottom, and in bottom lay a pit of downfall

Maai in Turmoil

Mothers are beings that nourish, nurture, and peddle a sense of life onto us. Us

the wider connotation evolving out of truth. A sinking truth that Maai goes out

of her way and in a subservient haze has to earn the bare minimum to support

herself. She cannot depend on her own blood to meet her own existence. She is

draped in the tremors of lost identity, yet she will smile…

Maai’s anger is internal

In all cataclysmic sounds who protects the yearning mother, you me, or the

cosmos all the religions were man-made yet the sights are brute and nicked by

stars and ripples. She is taking a plunge with her child to die in glee and wonder

diving beneath the surface, falling inside the Mariana Trench, and turning into

ashes along with her son who already died on the surface.

Losing herself for others

The world is abundantly methodical, yet with accounting profits, loss, need and

greed, chaos and conflict, slap for pounding, beatdown from attacking. All head

necks roll the drapes and become headless when equivocation has to be done

with Maai, why is this so vengeful? It is because we forget that we are people,

and sacrifices happen with beings that we love. Yet Maai is lost finding no one

near her sight.

Maai and her laughter riot

The laughs are genuine, for Maai never wants to be told she is bold and

independent. The tryst of betelnut here acts as a tropical sunny mist that

glistens on her body, the heat is ravaging her turning her into ash black, but she

waits till the tunes change, voices raise and ideas coalesce, to protect her from a

mindless catastrophe.

Maai in pure agony

The streams of conquest are starting to fruition. The rage is starting to appear.

Maai is trapped in both ends, both turns, and both pedestals. She chose a

striving choice, yet she has been befallen by the crude contents of life. Humanity

ravaging made her lose, dragging them out in the open and leaving her kid alone.

Maai’s greatest agony

Maai is beaten day in and day out. Maai is razed to the ground out and out. Yet

her rigorous existential crisis is her denidation via child loss. No mother can be

bereft of the child as she wanders away from the bridge of darkness, dungeons

underneath the hell between the crust and the mantle.

Maai is lost

Maai is lost, without a child, belongings, or devotion, stripped of wealth,

summons, cravings, ideas, and ideologies. She became the footfall of her own

intangible existence, for she was always lost, while the last nail wandered her

away in the streets, amidst unknowns, waiting to feed on her, one after another.