Mundane Dreams

The strewn flowers

beneath my feet

ask me,

why are you in such a hurry?

To achieve something that is already beneath your feet?

Across the garden, under the soft green grass, lie all men.

And their achievements. 

My favourite part

Simple pleasures of life

The sight of the evening moon,  

A nicely cooked meal,

The first mango of the season.  

I want to taste the mousse of the cloud.

A cupcake with the sky's flavour.

A pie the colour of gold, which you find behind the rainbow.

There I was

 

There I was, wiping away your last remains on the mirror,

There I was,  listening to the uncomfortable sound of his breath whistling as he walked,

There I stood, helpless, knowingly.  

What could I do, except standing there?

Mourn?

What should I mourn?

Your absence?

Or the cessation of your presence?

It may seem the same to you. But you know what?

It's different.  

The heart seems at rest, even if it knows that you're somewhere close.

My heart.

But now my heartbeat gone awry.

Dismissing even the negation of your presence.

Awry. I remain.

Like the rains attack, uninvited. Revengeful.

I remain, standing there.

Every time I see the moon,

I think it is a cup of curd.

A snow flake.

A milky sweet.

A cotton filled candy.

That I could just grab with my outstretched hand.

Against the dark sky.

And the glittering stars for company.

 

Will you?

Will you stroke my heart?

Even in those dark moments when I'm not myself.

Will you paint the colours of the evening sky

onto my skin,

when I can't behold the sunset?

Will you bear with me, and be still

even when I'm fighting with all my soul to hate you?

Our conversations

Our conversations never move on from eye contact.

I wonder why?

Is it just me, who deciphers hidden meanings?

Or do you feel a connect too?

Is it just me, who thinks there is poetry in your eyes,  or is it you too?

Is it just me that thinks that if we started speaking once, we would never stop?

That our chats would flow forever?

That our talks, those eternal dialogues, sweet nothings would never have to go old, boring or dry?

Do let me know, if you can.

Do you?

Do you see the same sight,

every night,

as I do?

Do you feel the same light,
as I do, of the sun bright?

Because if you do,

then I'll be sending some things of yours through.  

I'll be sending some of here's din, just in case you miss it.

The comforting smell of grandma's cooking.

Some of mom's love and dad's advice.

Dad's snores and his sudoku's too.

Also,

Why don't you do, too?

Send me your aroma, which filled each and every item of your clothing.

Send me your voice, loud and irritating.

Send me some of your tears,  if you do have any.

If you'd like,  send me some of your many complaints.  Knowing you,  there will be lots.

I live an empty life. Without you,  we all pretend. To be happy.  To be living an actual life. We lie.

That we don't miss you. That it is easy to forget you. Your voice. 

Your memories,  come back gushing.

But hold on tight, we know you're a fighter.  And we will be too.

Always in memories you remain, unchanged, undoubtedly,  the best.  The very same.  Smiling,  cheerful. It's like a freeze frame. Time decided to stop on us.

But how's that fair? We still talk about you, but now it's different.  Distant.

Oh, how I hate that word. But we can't help it, so we must remain. Like unsolved mysteries. Jigsaw puzzles lying around.

Isn't God curious? Like a young child? Eager? To unravel this enigma? How I wish he did. But too much patience He has. And so, we must have too. Goodbye darling, apple of my eye. Part of my soul. I love you,  forever.

You know,  I didn't realise earlier,  but today when I saw you,  it dawned on me.  I miss you.  Including that beautiful mole on your face.  

I bet that our struggles look like mountains right now.  But they are really just hills.

The thing I miss is how we consoled each other.  Well, can't do anything about it right now.  Except wait. That I can,  and must.

Well, meanwhile let's make do. Make believe.  Make way.

Make new friends.. Because that's what life seems to be.  That tugging of the heart,  that's not going anywhere soon.  

My hands shake as I write this.  Let's hope that everything is good.  Ballads of love playing in the background remind me of what it's like to be idyllic.

Must stop that then. Goodbye love. So long.  

Will you?

Will you give music to my words? I will sing them, I promise. The only thing I lack is the ability to compose.

Will you pacify me when I am not calm? Will you still love me if I don't look my best? Will you bear with me when I am insecure?

Will you share my dreams? I will support yours, unquestioningly.  

The only thing I ask of you is to love me. Despite myself. And I will love you back.

So you're finally going?

Away. Far away.

Why? Can't you stay a bit longer? Please? Don't go. Stay. Please.

My breath seems choked.

I'm sorry

I apologise. I didn't realise earlier. That you were really going away. Truly. For good.


Well what can I say? I'm torn. Tears refuse to honour me.
It's no longer if. There's no longer the comfort that lay in indecision.  
Life, prepared to be different.  Painful.  Farethewell dearest.

Remember, don't let anyone damage you so much that you lose yourself. Your spirit. Your chutzpah.

I hate saying it but words fail to describe you. or even our relationship.  Let's just call it a day then.

It won't be easy, of course. There will be a lot of crying and missing involved. But we'll manage I guess. Every time I have something you like. Every song is scarred with our shared memory.

Every damn thing. Each bloody object in the house. Each item of clothing. Well you better get me also something gigantic if you ever do come back. If. It's a big if. Wow.
 

 It's like suddenly life suddenly decides to ditch you in the middle of nowhere.  Or in the midst of something very important. 

Have you ever thought about me? What will happen to me? Who will I talk to? Complain. Hell, this is going to be terribly difficult a journey.

Are you sure you're ready? Of course you're incomplete without me. My help.

But I wonder about really is: how true is all that if you love

someone, you let them go? Really.  

Because I seem to be quite selfish right now.  

Ok fine, away with you. I hate you. Good riddance. What will happen to our late night conversations? Our secret eating out adventures?

Whom will I share every damn detail of my life with?

It's impossible to summarise our relationship know words. Let me stop trying.

Crouched humanity

Drooping shoulders, wrinkled skin. As if all the energy in them had been sapped. These humans in the bus, travelling with me no longer seem peculiar.

Fighting with hunger, cold and sheer monotony. Tired. Absolutely spent. Overwhelmed with sadness.

Sometimes I wonder, what's the use of making two ends meet like this?

But then I realise. Everybody isn't lucky. Or equal. Some don't even have a plastic spoon in their mouth when they are born.

But isn't this a double edged sword? Shouldn't work be stimulating, and life supporting. Is merely filling your belly enough?

City of dreams,  city that never sleeps. Financial capital of India. City that fights back. Safe. Safer.

All these are just tags. At the core of the matter is the people of Mumbai.

Beach bums, dreamers, labourers and billionaires. All with a heart of gold.

It has a peculiar smell, as rightly described in Shantaram.

Maxim city, with a nightlife unlike any other.

Populated, polluted, glamorous, metropolitan, melting pot.

Culturally rich, different,  supportive, fast paced and independence loving. Incredible.

The Bollywood underdog's dream. The struggler's paradise.

Cheap. Fifty rich. Full of slums and squalor. Houses one of the richest man in the world. Ironic, to say the least.

So how do I sum it up in a few words, without being stereotypical. Clichéd?

Simple. Try and capture the essence of its people.

Bombay or Mumbai.

Natives or immigrants.

Local or kali peeli.

Bus or metro.

Rickshaw or car.

Hard working. Spice loving. Enterpreunarial.

Freedom seeking. Will not judge you. Traffic infested.

Misal or Panipuri.
Pav bhaji or vada pav.
Bhelpuri or pasta?

Skilled. Crazy. Artistic.

Challenging. Understanding. Cruel. Passionate. Killing, in short.

Welcome to my death bed.

Here I can share the utmost of my secrets. The ones that quivered my heart.  And may quiver yours too.

I'm not a good person. 

Really. 

And I have been utterly wrong in making some enormous decisions.

Those few ones which determine the matters of someone's life.

Or death.
Now that it's my turn,  let me tell you.  I'm not afraid.

I'm just tired of waiting. 

Life's been good to me. Despite me not being the same.

But I hope you have one that's deeply satisfying. 

Do remember what I've said.

And let this be the only time you're sorry.  About anything.  My death. Or the lack of anything in your life.  

Coz really life's too short. To regret.

Do good before you die. Help someone.  Save. Spend time with your loved ones.  

Make friends.  And live. Truly, freely,  completely.  

Take chances. Lots of 'em. And don't listen to those naysayers.

That's enough I think. I should probably do. But please do remember just this one thing. Be a fool. But don't risk someone's life for your happiness.  

 

That's all love. I'll miss you. So long.

Is it possible to love someone  without knowing them?

 

Is it possible to taste the rain without getting drenched?

 

If it were possible,  I would like to fly,  without wings.

 

And soar above the world,  like a bird who sings.

 

Can the soil smell divine without it raining?

 

Can the deer realise it's folly?

 

What you seek, you shall find. Be it love, or peace of mind.

So I complained. Raised my voice. Against you.

Against you snatching that one person in my life.

And what did you do?

Stole my voice.

So typical.

The one thing I had.

But don't worry.
I can still write.

I have that with me. Within me.

This is not to protest against you.

I'm just trying to figure what you're doing.

Let me know once you're done.