Friday, 8 June 2018

Things left unsaid


Did I tell you that I still miss you sometimes?

Especially when someone plays a sufi note


It reminds me of you and pains just a little

Whenever I see a handwritten note


I still remember

The shade of blue you wore


The one time I closed your shirt buttons

The one time you touched my bangles

And how samosa made you a glutton


The one time you left marks on my neck

How you never let me give you a peck


You know what else you stole

Apart from my half a smile and my kohl?


The twinkle in my eye and the ring in my laughter

Just thought I'd let you know after


You've spoken about your favourite books

My playlist has been explored

The latest movies, coffee, poetry,

Is there nothing to tick anymore?

But can you hear the still noise my heart makes,

When you try and make eye contact?

Our hands touch for a millisecond

That moment is as sweet as the coconut water

We had on the beach

Natural

I just keep wondering

What more?

Would you like to explore the recesses of anything except my mind?

Where do we go from here now?

Your place or mine?

Date night


There's jazz

And a picture perfect pizza lays on the table

We both await you,

Me and my mozzarella,

I await, then tire,

the despair,

My desire for you,

like the pizza, has gone cold

And then you come.

Something inexplicable happens.

The butterflies in my stomach jump.

Should I let these innocent creatures believe

in re-birth?

(even though I might not)

At your sight?



Help, I say on Sunday

Bored with myself

Phew I say on Monday

Work has come to rescue

By Tuesday, though,

thoughts of you begin to seep in,

(thoughts of your being begin to seep in)

Wednesday I keep my hashtag game strong

Thursday, yes I survive

A story here, a post there

You're emptied from my mind

But Friday comes,

And the filter goes,

I have the absence of of you to keep me company

I get high on the thought that

You might

return.

By Saturday, my week's resolve has weekend.


My dad

Is the comfort of a crumpled shirt at the day's end

Contentment and contemplation

Happiness,

Dad jokes,

Grey hair, well oiled

and neatly combed.

Curious eyes

The most genuine smile

His nose, which was in books,

Is now in business,

His is the eagerness to

learn whatever's trending

Love, looks like this

A hard working life, well lived

Age, looking fine

Believe me, when you see him

With his specs perched atop his head

And a single sweat bead on his neck,

You'll know what I'm talking about.


Monday, 11 December 2017

Home

Do you ever get this feeling,

At the bridges of those huge train stations?

Where there are intersections?


No,  not that of leaving permanently

for an out-bound train


Even if you're going with people

Who you've called home all your life

There's  a queasy feeling

Like you've left home behind.


Does it hit you?

Do the people on the huge platform crossing by

give you the impression that they are

bodiless souls or soulless bodies

Flitting away into nothingness

And exchanging voids?


Maybe only I get this feeling

Maybe it is because people who I've called home

Left me

I know I shouldn't have.


Because homes are something

you're comfortable in.

You don't go house hunting.

Home beckons you.


You can't go to a house, find potential

and then wait for it to be your home, or wait,

do you?


I called this someone home,

Too soon I guess.

Something like a week and a half into knowing him. Or

A month and half, I dont know.

Was it actually a year and half?

Anyway, what's important is that it remained just that half.


But what we should learn,

Is to live, nevertheless.


You know the funny thing?

I'd once read this quote that went something like:

It's okay to make homes out of people if.

And I lost the quote.

Now, tell me, how am I supposed to make a

home if I can't remember a quote?


I've tried, you know

I think I've tried it all.

Finding the quote,

Leaving the home be.


But it hasn't worked so far for me.

All that poetic bullshit they say?


"My darkness and his darkness are friends."

I'm going to wait it out and see if it's true.


I'm going to wait for home to come to me.

Homes, old and new. 

Thursday, 27 July 2017

If you need a heart to break, take mine.

Don't do it for your sake, do it for mine.

If you just need another chemical to balance the equation,

Control the reaction,

Why the hesitation?

If, to heal, it takes blood and meat to feed on, take mine.

It it takes all of me, to repair just a part of you, be mine.