Cold mornings, colder hearts

And just like that, it started, at first a slight nip in the air. As time went by, like a ripple in the waves, it became pleasant. As did you.

The relief that surrounded me was unimaginable.

Finally, I thought.

I couldn't stop smiling.

The mere thought of you made me giddy with happiness.

I really started questioning if luck was actually so benevolent. 

It felt unreal. 

Certainly it wasn't. 

You were mine. I was yours. 

Wasn't that the truth?

You comforted me. Of course it was. You hid me in the shadow of your strong chest. I felt safe. 

And vulnerable, at the same time. 

You knew me. My insecurities, my pain. My dreams. 

I knew you. 

At least I'd like to think I did. 

I knew your tears, hot and wild, gushing out as if from a cloud. I knew your eyes, when they were lying to me. 

Steel grey, unflinching. 

I knew you wouldn't dream of it. 

But sure, you had. 

I had given them solace, when you could find none. 

Your hopes were now mine. Your ambitions, mine. 

Ours. 

But then, all of a sudden, you became distant. 

Like a storm in the middle of gentle rain. 

The mornings grew colder. As did you.

Something in your heart froze. 

Like the river that stopped flowing. 

You became unfamiliar, almost like foreign territory. 

Your touch felt strange. 

Your skin felt ruffled. By someone else. 

Your visits grew shorter, the pauses in our conversation, longer. 

You left the coffee untouched, just as you had stopped touching my soul. 

The tune we composed together was left incomplete. 

Maybe the tuning was off. 

There needed to be a few checks.

Maybe,it wasn't meant to be.

Whoknows?

Did someone grow jealous?

Had our love ever hurt someone? Unknowingly or ...

I didn't want to know.

I didn't care.

But my mind doesn't forget you. Like a distant observer, it reports your presence in my thoughts. Continuous. Dismal. Abysmal.

The dawns are chilly, and you have become a distant memory. But still, each day that I awake to, reminds me of you.

As I rise from the bed, the pain engulfs me. The pain of your separation. 

Nostalgia greets me in my face every morning.

I try to remember you. Your voice. Your face. But the outlines just don't want to fill in.

Sometimes,I see someone that reminds me of us.

But it's not bitter anymore.

I forgive you. 

Without you, music still feels lonely. 

Without you, coffee still doesn't taste sweet. 

I long for a companionship like yours. 

They say love is complicated. It wasn't, at least with you. 

They say sharing a piece of you can't be easy. It was, at least with you. 

Certainly, I wasn't the only one feeling all this. 

You knew what it was. 

It was true, didn't you feel it?

I remember, once you said to me," I can't seem to swallow a morsel of good food without you."

I was shy. You smiled that charming smile of yours. 

Was that your grand admission of love?

I do not know yet, I think it was. 

Will you tell me?

Your voice, which at once, was soothing, now feels unheard of. 

Even if I hear it again, I fear, I may not realise that it belongs to you. 

Will you let me hear it? If only, once?

I will be waiting.    

I miss you. 

Your thin fingers running through my hair. 

Don't wait for the skies to clear. Or for it to rain. Please. 

We never know whose turn it can be next, so don't wait for the clouds to have a silver lining or the worlds to conspire to give you a sign.       

Just, please, don't wait. 

                                                                                                                                                          

We can still

We can still

We can still scamper and scurry around, 

bare-feet in the garden,

We can still  enjoy a day, without entering the complex web  around.

We can still  drink in the pure, unadulterated joy of an evening spent near nature,

We can still  put pen to paper and try to write longhand.

I know its difficult, but not entirely impossible. 

It isn't some miraculous spell, nor any charming swoosh of a wand. 

It's a simple word called choice. 

Just by the way, we still can do, whatever it is that we want. 

All that jazz

Greetings for Diwali and for a new year, dear readers. This time, I'll leave you with yet another video. The creative writing project, this is a sitcom that focuses on a college play. So enjoy this light hearted comedy and spread cheer!

Rehnuma

If you were wondering what kept me away from writing.

This is another of my group projects, a short film made for understanding cinema. A result of a lot of hard work, this movie has been a feat to achieve. Without the support of my group members and dear friends, this movie wouldn't be possible. Hina Thadani deserves a special mention as she was instrumental in writing the poetry too.

You will find Ali's poetry here:


Do wakht ki roti kamata hu,
Afsos nahi karta hu,
Jo kamatu hu wohi sahi,
kyunki mein kissi ka mohtaj nahi.


Aaj khomoshi hai,
Aaj tanhai hai,
Dil pe laga zakhm to hai,
Par woh hi sacchai hai.


Zindagi kiske liye?
Bandagi kiske liye?
Agar bantnewala koi na ho,
To har khushi kiske liye?


Sapno ka shehar hai,
Par bheed me akela,
Bhavnao ki lehar mein,
Hai uljhano ka mela.


Sarhado ke paar,
Ek zindagi dekhta hu,
Usse khushiyo ki yaadein mangta hu,
Ae khuda, kyun hai tanhai har tohfa tera?
Mangta hu mein sirf ek naya savera.

Khaali raaste the, khaali gufaein thi,
Khaalipan tha, kaali ghatayein thi,
Chalta jata tha mein issi umeed mein,
Ki kabhi toh soungaa khushal jivan ki chaav mein.

Aaj hua hai yakin,
Woh savera hai yahin,
Ab hui hai zindagi suhaani,
Kyunki apni yaari hai ruhani.



Yeh kismat ka khel toh dekho,
Zindagi ko aise mod par le aati hai,
Ki kuchh na hone ke bawajud bhi,
Puri kaynat mil jaati hai

Zindagi mein koi aata hai,
Ruh ko chhukar,
Rehnuma sa ban jata hai,
Yeh kismat ka khel to dekho,
Bas yaadein chhod jata hai.

Twist and shout!

This is a short music video project that I was part of. It was too much fun shooting. Hope you guys have as much fun watching it as we had making it. The music is 'Twist and shout' by the Beatles. Here you go!  Enjoy!

The revoltionary's prayer

This is a poem which I wrote for an event of Kiran, K.C. College's inter college fest. The theme was  the rise.(revolution) It won the first prize.

There is a rise in the echo of peace,
A fall in the noise of revolution,

There have been enough tears and talks,
Now is the time for some heroic action.

Arise like a phoenix to the occasion,
From the ashes of not only your nation,
,
But also its people ,citizens of the world,
Join this glorious rebellion
In a procession.

Leave cynicism behind this monsoon

This blog post is an article written by me and it was published in HT's column, 'Speak Easy' on the 10th of June, 2012. 

It was raining that evening as I was struggled home from my classes in Andheri (East). I had an umbrella, but it was of little use. Drenched, I sought my way through the semi-lit roads. When I reached the subway, I realized I had made a mistake. The area was completely flooded with knee deep water. I struggled to wade through it, and was finally helped by a fellow pedestrian.

            This incident took place two years ago. As the monsoons approach the city this year, I am waiting for ‘the clouds’ to ‘bring fresh showers to the thirsty flowers’’, as poet PB Shelley says.

Sure, I am a tad nervous, but that is because of a new year in college. The rains in Mumbai have a way of relieving people of their burdens.

          There are reasons to complain, but if you refuse to be cynical, there are reasons to be grateful too. We can blame the BMC officials for corruption or we can be proactive. We could try losing our cool because of the traffic or we could help divert it. When we should be saying no to plastic, why are still talking about the deluge of 26/7? When we know that the sweeper should not be throwing leaves into the manholes, why do we let him do exactly that?

The choice is all ours, really. We could curse the rains for making our children sit at home or thank it for the bountiful crops it will grow. We could fulfill our duties as citizens or crack jokes about the meteorological department’s predictions. Certainly, we could stop cribbing about the stuffy weather in the train compartment for once and try to enjoy the spray of rainwater.

         This season provides us with the perfect opportunity to give ourselves a welcome break. Be it enjoying hot beverages and deep fried snacks, a siesta or reading a book, there are several ways to spend a rainy afternoon. Smell the earth, or paint, teach your kids how to cover their textbooks or make paper boats. Romantic songs, a nice movie or a jigsaw puzzle could really help lift your mood. Nothing is better than getting away to a hill station for the weekend.

Getting drenched in the first showers was never out of vogue. For the health freaks out there, there is always a mountain to trek on. For the nature lovers and bike enthusiasts, try a trip to a waterfall. Thunder makes for an ideal companion to soothe one’s loneliness. You could always curl up with a magazine or book. Retail therapy could also put a smile on your face.

Whether it is Malhar or Umang, college fests in the rain are always a hit with students. Let it drizzle or rain cats and dogs, these festivals never go unattended. As for the real festivals, there is no dearth of them. From start to end, the monsoon is full of jubilation: Janmashtami, Ganesh Chathurthi, and even Navratri fall during this season. But celebrating again, doesn’t give us a reason to act irresponsibly. To ensure that our monsoon is enjoyable, we have to change our own habits. For instance, we could stop littering, use eco-friendly materials for the Ganesha idol and use the same clay pot for Navratri the next year.

This will definitely help us in the long run. If we join hands now, we can make a better tomorrow. We can enjoy the rains if we are responsible.