When we are fine.

When the days wake up with exhaustion and ends with empty tummies

When compassion and kindness are shown in likes and shares

When the excess know naught what it is to be without and the deficit know, all is to long

When there is division in mind, cultivated for a purpose high

When the true essence is lost in the mine

When taboo can’t be discussed and neither can it be punished

When voices of need are drowned in doing the needful

When all is known yet we choose to be cuffed with Ignorance

When all it does, is cripple you inside yet it’s mandatory to be fine.

Oh.. What can I say, we are fine. We sure do are fine.

                                          ~ROMA

The broken beads

 

The beads on my neck

Well, for first, they were a gift from you.

The colour so beautiful as wine, were a contrast to the pale skin of mine.

The pretty stones carefully sown together, now mine!

 

The beads on my neck are the careful collection of my memories, with you.

Memories of how boyishly handsome you were, struggling with nervousness and excitement and this curious question in your eye

"Will she like it?"

The beards on my neck were a quiet surprise!

 

The beads on my neck are the consolation when my days are gloom and in happiness conveniently forgotten

A member that was new, now gotten used to

My hands search them for courage and comfort, for they are my only console, only console..

 

The beads on my neck, shattered today, the weight of the stone bore the silk thread down

The thread, did try on its own to bear the stones, but the stones..  the stones.. Oh! so heavy.. the stones..

Tell me what do I do?

Mend the broken beads or my broken heart now?

Knight

 

Let me be your knight,

Let me pave your way

Let me bleed for thy dream

Oh my king, Let me lay my life for thee!

The finer shades of fine.

 

When I ask, “how do you do?”

“Fine”, you say

Now tell me dear

Fine, is it the actual fine that all things are in a routine Fine?

Fine, is it the brighter fine, where you are drowning in sorrows fine?

Fine, is it the denser fine, where you are so caught up in life you shall explain morrow!

Fine, is this the polite fine that says, “oh.. we have drifted apart” and you wouldn’t want impose?

Fine, is it the leaner one, being the best strategy to avoid further conversation?

Or rather fine, the cooler one, where life is shining too bright?

Okay fine.

Which fine is “the fine” you say?

So when I ask next time

Please take pity on this overthinking mind

And don’t say fine!!

the meaninglessness lament

 

When you sit in meaninglessness... You wonder how you reached here. Did you fancy Robert frost and take the path less travelled or did you believe in Emily Dickenson's Hope, hoping that you would find meaning? In that journey of finding meaning you go through so many phases.

In all the phases we go through some are blessed in being stuck in one, forever. The phase of illusion I would say. The illusionary perpetual.  Begins rightly with you, being that good child in the perfect mold, which the capitalist parents desired and grow up to be exactly the way, society traded. You would find meaning in the meaningless, not that you are wrong, but that you are too sure of it. It becomes the thing with feathers that drives you desires. Easier life and quicker death awaits you.  In death its translucence is intermittently for some, others casually miss it.

Then they are the partially blessed ones, whose lives are shattered... They go through loss that's unbearable, immovable, that deliciously drowns them, such purgatory they live. It's like a daydream, waking up to their worst nightmares and sleeping to escape. But what they don't see is, this escape temporary, traps them in bounded burden. Burden in such a way that they sinks into this dream like state, only at death, awake.

In this are a few courageous one who fly above the chaos to connect with what is within. They skew from their loop, which can be done in two ways. Now imagine you being a traveler standing, two roads diverging. Which would you choose? The easy being the one where you end the sustenance of creation in you. Where you say, “enough is enough” and take the plunge, in one easy swift moment you choose. This would be the road that is less travelled, for it is not for the faint heart and the rational mind.

The other path being the slower, chosen by the wiser, the way of cutting through worn out leather dedicatedly. Where little by little, you shed your skin, again and again with all the curve balls life throws at you, letting all the callous in your hands to grow into callousness to fear, where you reach a stage that you are too exhausted to fight the current but now wiser, ready to flow, in the direction it takes you. You simply flow, flowering all the little you can. Touching all these precious lives. You have no stagnation. For you, stagnation comes only in death. Only in death you find peace. Only death gives you that crumb to reset and restart.

 These are the two extremities of the scales, many in moderation also lay. For between extremities they exists infinities. I won't say it's awful, neither awesome. It's probably the attitude you summon.  In hopes to choose the road less travelled, ultimately you only becoming one in many, as previously done. You begin with a search, a search for meaning, only to end up meaninglessness again.

 

Not all those who wander are lost!

 

When it’s your time to leave.
I would say it’s a pretty strange feeling. A feeling of wedged between the two, the past self and the future one.  The past self is running towards comfort and the future towards adventure, the present stuck in dilemma.

This is a common phenomenon that is experience regularly when people send you of. Yes, they send you saying it’s for your future and sometime if you are wiser, you take that step on your own.  Standing there at the airport knowing all that I have been, shedding that skin, and moving forward to seek what all I can be. It’s a mixture of anxiexcitement i.e, anxiety and excitement.

This also exists in many relationships where we are constantly evolving in our life and trying to hold on to that little sanity of comfort and losing all that is ours.  Like at our home, in friendships, in romantic relationships and probably most in marriage. This is not only hard but uneasy too, to lose the self that we know and to become that is required, when we all want is to stay in our safe cocoon.

The interest that we pay for this is, we tend to lose some pretty good people we have. It’s simple, you outgrow or are outgrown. Growth is nonlinear, there is no one direction to it.  The best way to put it is it’s unique for each of us. It’s very personal, many at times oblivious to others. As a result there are quite a lot of misunderstanding and hurt exchanged in this process. Finesse I would say is a must. You should be ready to see what the person has been through and accept the phase of their evolution and they yours.

It is absolutely necessary for us to get lost sometimes, to see the beauty of what we had. I wouldn't say lost, that seems quite extreme, rather we wander off. We wander in search of a balance to the future self and a past self. A neutral zone, like Switzerland, where we all in comfort, sit and discuss how we have sculpted life or rather how life has sculpted us. Along with it, to analyze how the many relationships we have, are evolving. Accepting it, then deciding what can be done with it. Well sometimes you choose, other you are chosen.

In the end we wander to seek ourselves, the balance, and the ability to carry your own comfort in your very many explorations. A fancier term would be PEACE, peace to be what you are becoming with the choice to revisit what you were. Someone was definitely right is saying,” Not all those who wander are lost”. Neither I am.

The shadier side of being polite.

The shadier side of being polite.

Oh.. what can I say the end arrives earlier than designated. The end here I mean is not a breaking up.. I would say breaking up is courageous, rather we let the relationships fade. Fading is the worst kind of death. You do things that you have done for name sake. You hold on to things that were never yours. You try to make time for them when all that you ever want is to be safe in your cocoon, not in the judging presence of people who put you down for all that you are. This comes from the people who we know and whom we love.. that causes the extraa hurt in everything that you do.. you are conditioned in such a that you would always choose to be polite. Yes, I accept we are bought up with excessive manners that we would always rather hurt the person with feeding him lies that letting them go. Telling them this doesn't serves you.. telling them no this not what I signed up.. telling them that evolution is important and impermanence is the only permanence.. rather all we choose is to act as if nothing has happened.. and build on it.. because acting like this would emphasis it more and more.... but let me tell you it is injustice done first to yourself and then to the other person too.. Its injustice that you can’t confront, nor accept or see what you have done.. but you don't see this, all you see and say is that time will heal all wounds.. it’s not time that heals all wounds.. it’s just you forget it.. but do you get healed? That becomes the question here. As you live in denial more, the more you don’t see, rather don’t want to see what is what.. you are not accepting of what you are and as you wear this mask.. you just grow away from everything that is you .. and you mold yourself in way that is polite in terms of society.. and we politely avoid, we politely be passive aggressive, we politely transfer the blame, we politely smile and comment and live a happy lie.

The Locket of Life

It’s that locket, preferably heart shape.

Heart shape because it’s the abode of all ecstasy collected.

Collected little by little, now by now.

There aren't many, but the few, cherished.

Cherish by attaching it to the beaded piece of silver around my neck

From my neck its aligned in a way, heart to heart

To the heart, it comforts, cold metal on the raging heart

The heart, like in the fairy tales, beats inside this heart

Thus the two exist to become one wholly, experiencing life

Entwined and intertwine

One, ticking for the latter, and the other, by holding on to those fleeting moments of ecstasy for the prior.

A clandestine affair.

One pumping my veins and the other my euphoria

In essence, keeping me alive, keeping me afloat in this outrageous ocean of my tears.

My Sister

She is the pillar of responsibility, that shares my load!

She is that understanding eyes, that listens quiet

She is that loud voice, that ferociously fights

She is, the happy days, safe place and chaotic night 

She is this wondrous warrior, that protects me in my plight

She is this adventurous soul, that explores and enlights

She is the warmest hug, that comforts unconditionally and  makes it all right. 

She is my guide, my companion, my confidant

She ... my sister

*This for that special person, with whom you can find home. on Request of a friend !

Savory Song

Savory song

No, I am not just that sweet smile on a pretty face

Neither the calm nor the kind

Rather

I am that angel with a crooked halo.

I am the charm that harms

I am the laze of Sunday afternoon.

I am the gaze that lets you dazed

I am that punch that stuns

I am also the words that strike

I am the bitter in the bittersweet

I am the darkness of the night

I am but who, that I show you

And remember

I am not all sweet but savory too.

Reconstructed Rains

It began to pour outside and something filled her heart. Little Zoya loved the rains.  In her mind the rains equated to happiness. She didn’t know why, but she loved every minute things about it.  To begin with the shade of the cloud, there were different from the rest, darker but not black, a graceful grey or rather silver as her mother would say.

They weren’t the silent types, they came announcing their arrival with music and lights. She loved to see the lights but the music scared her. Nani used to tell thunder came only when the clouds fought amongst themselves, “like mum and dad!” she had exclaimed.

After their arrival with the band, there were two possibilities. One they just pass away to destinations unknown leaving Zoya in wonder or they showered. And when they showered, that sound, It felt like a gush.. Nani said, when the clouds were overwhelmed, they pour their love on us, and the earth in turn made that delightful sound. But not always the sound was same. It was loud, when ice had showered! She couldn’t believe the clouds could shower ice too. She never got to ask Nani why, but she did try to taste that ice and in doing so, had successfully angered her mother.

She loved the feel, when the drops hit her palm. Sometimes like needles other she could feel only a chill. Sometimes too quick other too far. They were never the same. She longed to play with them but her mother had ordered supervised visits only. Nothing more than her hands were allowed and if her mum felt generous, Zoya’s feet were too.. Strict supervision prevailed at such times accompanied with a human taller than her.  Nani had taught her to say a thank you too when the rains spread delight and so she did.

The sound intensifies as she rushed to her courtyard, only to see her mother already arrived. She had bought coffee and hot bajji’s along with Zoya’s favorite hot chocolate to celebrate. At times such she felt a gush towards her mother that usually ended up in hugs and giggles. She then knew how earth felt.

Her father arrived on time to join them in their play, who got wet the most, a game she loved to lose. She liked it when the rains stopped too. The puddles they left behind, the joys of becoming a cold mess to be washed in a warm bath later was immense for her. She couldn’t wait to conquer those seas. That’s when her father told her to get a paper. Unhappily, as she got the paper, settling on his lap. He stared tearing the paper, folding and folding and folding and a boat appeared. It was an absolute delight. Now she, Captain Zoya got more paper to make boats to successfully conquer all her unknown seas. 

It would be very later one day, she recollecting the joy it bought her would make it a tradition to celebrate with her child.

The cruelest curse

To be loved in words but not in essence

To be comforted by silence but not in hugs

To be loud but yet unheard

To be generous in gifts but busy with time

To know. Yet, choose to remain unknown .

To be given what you want

But not what you need

By a loved one is the cruelest curse bestowed upon.

ILLUSION

Temporary
There I stood, constant at the edge
As the seasons visited.

 

It was strange, as it began with rains..
Unleashed she, the blessing casually collected.
Cleansed the crude, she flowed.

 

Then arrived he, the mighty winter
with coats and colds, ah! He plays the perfect role!
Warmth he spreads, in an ironic way that has to be said!

 

With her symphony she waltz, 
Autumn she was, as the piper who played
she carried away the leaves dazed.

 

In all the chaos around, arrived the standard spring
Swish.. Swash.. Blooms and sprouts
dutiful he, the usual colours he doused.

 

There I, standing at the edge, why so temporary I wonder?
Or is it I, that is  ever revolving and  In this dance of the Night and day
Its the role they have to play?

Belong

Sunset to sunrise
Sunrise to sunset.
As she sings his name
A name so divine to her
To her heart it belonged
Belonged it might to her heart
Heart of his, rather was entwined elsewhere
Entwined elsewhere in such a way
A way where it was dawn.
Was it dawn or dusk?
Where the colours of night and shades of the day merged
merged, as yellow mixed with red and twisted all the laws that were sewn
Sewn, they were in such a way
A way inseparable like thee and thine shadow
 Shadow she cast on his heart
His heart now brimming with her..
With her..  tell, I now.
Now to whose heart thy belong?

Beware and Be aware!

It is not religion that segregates

It is not politics that corrupts

It is not gender that is partial

It is not the caste that divides

Nor Language that mis-communicates 

It is but the narrowness of the human mind that 

That see's segregation in religion

When all rivers flow only towards one ocean!

That requires palms to be greased

When it's for our nation we strive!

That defines your possibilities

When the whole world is equally your stage as is theirs!

That assumes you are privileged

When nature nurtured you the same!

That finds meaning in the meaningless

When all it was meant to, was converse!

It is but the narrowness of human mind that does!!

It is but the narrowness of human mind that does!!

Me and My Insecurities

She is the savoury in my life

She is that uninvited guest that pops up at the perfectly imperfect time

She is the voice in my head that tells otherwise

She is that dress in my closet, that’s too tight

She is that colour of the skin that’s too bright

She is the vulnerable side I try to hide

She becomes those thoughtful words that weren’t mine

She is a louder voice, a bolder idea, the bigger presence, that cooler vibe!

She is this nonexistent better self of mine that exist only in my mind.

Contemplation.

I feel ancient.

Brimming with knowledge of life

Brimming as in completely full and almost overflowing

But not overflowing.

What if overflowing is like infinity that never arrives?

So you go on seeking and seeking

And when the day comes of overflowing

Death arrives.

Is it when death arrives you overflow or

Is it on your overflowing death arrives ??

I wonder!

THOUGHTS

They come to me, knocking, From time to time
You can judge them by their knocks that rhyme
Sometimes violent and the remaining melancholiously muffled
Oh..  at times, they stay a jiffy, like the bloom
Others they get married to you, like the brooding partner along with his gloom
Or the worst, they easily evade you, personified as your temptress love.
Some take the risk to enter, others just flee.

My mind churns and churns
Existing in the void
else trying to channelize the overflow
Skimming the cream, atop
I try sieve the essence in nothing
Or put to rest the essence as nothing
The visits go on and on, from time to time.
As I get acquainted to them
I enjoy molding them into a rhyme!

The Gulmohar Getaways !

THE GULMOHAR GETAWAYS

Well, it was the day when the sun had no mercy on us.

Shone full bright on!!

It was the day when the Breeze was engrossed elsewhere

Summoning storms at her command

It was also the day when I was a miniscule shy of three.

That!! That was the day when fate had its way

And I got acquainted with you!!

You were a paradox of patience, I knew naught, how you grew so?

With rapt attention, Perfect connotation and elaborate explanations.

Along the days.. You made your way

You made your way into the Breezy island of my heart

I knew that day, you were gonna stay!!

You never tire of hearing me wither

About Scandalous School, about terrible teachers!

About faded friends and about the latest love!

You did try to cheer, with parties of may!!

Was glamorous!! By the way..

Now you stay rooted and I oscillating

You are the center I converge too!

My home, My healer, My heart throb

This is to our intricately fleeting rendezvous…

To those transcendental Getaways.

To Gulmohar Getaways.

THEN

In conversation with: the boy who dwells in feasibility of if and when

To the boy who dwells in feasibility of if and when

As adorable as you write

Let’s give a break to that overthinking mind

Untangling this web of possibilities

I sarcastically try to write.

THEN

Every baby born would be equally cherished

The skies would be flooded with shooting stars

The wizarding world is true!! Didn’t you get your letter?

The terrace would be congested and look ugly too

Science and religion won’t be at loggerheads and would conjure miracles methodically

That would be an aesthetically abrupt reply nah!

The population density of India is 457/km²  . FORGET BOTH!!

The illusion of Privacy achieved!

The wind would become partial to humidity and woman.

All the bright and the dark would merge

Better beings in becoming!! Heaven forbid!

The earth would glow

We would be harum- scarum .

You would in reality reap all that you sowed

The world would be a beautifully lazy place.

There would be no crime committed or judgments passed.

There would be no currency to trade.

Our’s is a horribly mismatched one.

Hope this helps !

The dancer and her master!

Ah.. look there she soars
High above, getting caught in the tallest trees
They do shelter her from time to time
But he,
he creates the perfect currents coaxing her out
How could he let her go ?
Whoosh... Sometimes fierce...
Rustle.. Sometimes smooth
He is her Master and she his dancer.

He knows
He know that he holds her string ..
So he blows and she  flow
It's only for his beats she dances
On his waves she sails
Luring many souls
Who in vain try to win over her
But she .. smarter slithers out
Flowing  to that solitary tone of his.
She flows as he blow ..
He blows and she flows ..
Leaving a trail of hearts broken..

For She is an unhinged kite and he her wind ..

MASS MURDER!

Zoya was trying to choose, choosing was a tedious task for her. She didn’t know which colour would best go with pink. She was musing this, when she heard the loud commotion. Loud commotion meant loud voices and loud voices equals fights. She hated when people fought. It always bought tears and uninvited physiological warfare where she got to play the pawn. “Go ask your dad this. Go tell your mum that.. Go look if your mum ate … go give this to you dad! “God! Her work load as a kid definitely doubled during those days. Now who has done what? She dusted herself and moved in to investigate.

The scene inviting her was quite unexpected. Her grandma standing near her precious fish tank and tears running down her face. Which made Zoya wanted to wage war. She rushed to Console her. Her hugs always worked. There she saw, inside the tank most of the fish had died. But how could this happened? Who dared to harm her grandma’s fishes? She had just fed those precious fishes. That is when she heard Nani Shouting that someone had added soda into the water. Uh??.. whatever that meant..

But why was Nani pointing at the fish food and calling it Soda? As her thoughts were running laps something big like an asteroid hit Zoya’s little brain. She had added that to the water thinking it was fish food. OH MY GOD… she was responsible for the death of the fishes. She had bought tears into her grandma’s eyes.. She had become a ruthless mass murderer. And just like that the tears flowed with no halt. Now the whole house was trying to calm her instead. What could she tell them? It was her? Her voice wouldn’t corporate with her for that.

She didn’t know when she slept but she got up her tummy rumbling. It was almost lunch time and they had made her favorite and just for a second she forgot about the fishes and rushed to eat. While she was having her food, Nani, forlorn, stood there staring at the tank. She could have no more, she left. When she went out to play, there, they were cleaning the fish tank. Once that flourished with life now seem scattered. She didn’t want to see that. She decided to go back to sleep. But the fishes had followed her there too. She had a nightmare of fishes eating her up. She was jolted awake and she no longer could take it. The guilt has grown long like the shadow during forenoon.

She whisked around trying to find Nani, to confess and ready to face her wrath. She atlas found her near the well and closed her eyes and told her everything. How she had thought it was fish food and how she didn’t mean to hurt anyone certainly not her. The tears accompanying her gave her the courage she need, and finally she begged Nani for her forgiveness.

Her grandma was shocked. Shocked at how this little child had so much of courage in her to own up to her mistake. How this little child was brave enough to face the consequences? She was in awe of this little child and being a wise lady, she took little Zoya in her hand and engulfed her in the tightest hug she could give. And told its okay and forgave her. That moment Zoya felt a relief as if a rock that was on her heart lifted. Her grandma also praised her for the bravery and courage she showed. She also taught her that it’s okay to mistakes but what is important is to own up to them and learn. The whole point of making mistakes is to learn and all this learning would made her a strong princess.

This was how Zoya first became acquainted with courage and forgiveness. Little did she know she they would become her best friends later in life.

How beautifully life has changed !

How beautifully life has changed you..

When I see you soar now

I wonder how we were and how we are

We are still the birds with the same feather

But not necessarily that flock together

We all have chosen a parallel way I would say

No..  we have certainly not dismantled our flock

Simply moved on to flocks far away

We do revisit when fate has it's say.

Now, you listen here and listen precisely

Yes first came the distance then the excuses

Yes there are moments, when I become greedy

Yes there are days when for your shoulder is all I long

Also

Yes I am elated for the journey your are on ..

Now when I see you

I see the poise and dexterity you fly with

The patience and pretty balanced

The Way you imbibe and you teach

Flawless you seem, I doubt that is what you feel..

I glimpse at you now and then, wonder

How beautifully life has changed US.

Yet we remain !

THE AFFAIR

It was around one o clock, tossing and turning, wide awake she laid. Upon hearing the jingle of his keys in the lock, she shut her eyes tight faking sleep. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. As he stumbled inside, that is when it hit her. The smell. He reeked of her. How could he do this to her?

She had known about the two. How his life had revolved around her. How she was the first in his share of joy and sorrow and how his every day began and came to an end with her. But he had called the quits. He had stopped, that is what he had assured her. He had also promised her pure adoration along with many such things. What had happened to those promises? What had happened to them? Where had the happy days and warm hugs gone? What about those long pecks and tender words?

 Now all that remained was the cold in between them. Cold stares of disapproval and colder words that pierced her open. She could no longer fight the cold not even with her thickest of blanket. All this didn’t matter to him. He had her to warm him. What was she to him? Did he ever love her? Why was love so hard in life? Was it too much to ask for some companionship or even a cozy friendship? She was hopelessly lost and bitter tears of betrayal rushed to soothe her.

To wipe them away she opened her eyes, only to see his lover at her door step. An arrow of pure distilled hatred pierced her heart shattering it into pieces. How.. How could he bring her here?  To their home?

Something shattered in her. After crying her heart fill she 
made herself some hot chocolate. As she sipped, warmth spread and she realized two things:

1.  She loved him in spite of all

2.  He didn’t

Life had pushed her to a brink. Standing on a sinking ship contemplating to jump into the cold dark ocean or this cold person, to keep intact the little bit of sanity she held, she plunged into ocean. She packed and left. Left him there rolling with his lover. His mistress.  His concubine. 
His WHISKY.

*IMMATERIAL*

Have you ever gone back to a book?

A book that is reserved for comfort.

Yes, there are many that surround

From mama to papa

From your siblings to your mentors

But have you ever gone back to a book?

A book that completely understands you

That consoles and comforts you

Huff’s and puff’s your worries away

Sucks you into a world

A world full of magic and madness

Of science and stunts

Of mystery and history

Of characters that cherish your soul.

Have you tried it?

Have you ever gone back to a book?

That one special book that knows

That knows the essence of you

And helps you mask the tears that flow

That special book that has seen your highs and lows

Been there un-apologetically for you

Immaterial it might be

But more that material is its worth

Have you tried it ?

Have ever tried being in the company of a book?

Have you ever gone back to a book?