WHY?

I have been biting my nails all day long. Thinking about the day we met. Under a lotus you said “hello” to me. Your first hello.

 

I remember the first time I looked at you, I froze. “ Good Lord! She is so ugly!” I exclaimed looking towards the sky. My first reaction.

 

And that day at the recording studio as you sat beside me listening to some very bad singing you looked up at me and said, “ Get me a CD of this song.”

Ten days later I sang that very song to you. As you sat looking like an angel at the “dargah”. And I left God’s embrace and kissed you with my eyes on that moonlit wintry night.

 

That puppy at the hill station. We held him together like proud parents. You wanted to keep it. Bring him home. I dissuaded you. And like a child you fell into my arms. I can still feel that warmth around my heart.

 

And your first gift. A CD full of songs.

 

And then to sing a song together. At night and then in the morning. Shivering. Rubbing hands.

 

And you remember the new year wish that you made for me? I lost it a year later.

 

And I lost many a thing a year later.

 

And today, three years later, here I am. I have lost you. I have lost my friends. I have lost everything but my soul.

 

I lost everything and found love. Love in such abundance that I have no other choice than to give it all away. 

 

I am lonely. And I remember Waheeda Rehman saying-“ Those who love the world lead lonely lives.” And I remember, her eyes were moist when she said that.

 

I love you. Love you mon chere petite etoile!!!!!

 

a passing thought

three years ago i fell in love; three years later i am living in love. its a mad world out there and what keeps me sane is this very love. my friends call me a fool. " how can you love a girl who doesn't give two dimes about you?"....they ask.

well, its better than bombing & killing innocents!!!! adulthood hurts.

And the SMS that i finally sent her

A ray of light comes from the lamp
that you forgot to extinguish
Ah! it isn't finished
forgetting is not complete!
i know everyone and each of your footsteps :-]

Your footsteps
my heartbeat
the children of my silence
who play with
soft naked feet
around the bed of my wakefulness

i know everyone & each of your footsteps

An unsent sms to "mon chere petite etoile"

I know every1 & each of ur footsteps
I need 2 see myself & remember

a door imperfectly shut on still un4gotten memories
suspended 4 eternity i dance
between heaven & earth!
a ray of light comes from a lamp
which u 4got 2 extinguish.

Ah! it isn't finished
forgetting is not complete!

i still need 2 learn 2 know myself.

If only I could

If only I could join every second together
Of my life and compose a song
How would it sound?
Would it be sweet or would it be sad?
Or would it be an infinite silence?

If only I could have held on
To her hand and promised her!
That I could forsake the world for her
And love her like the henpecked moon
Loves the ever shining sun!

If only I could understand my heart
And its rhythmic beats
Like raindrops falling off the gulmohar
And kissing the earth
I would have knelt and embraced her.

I could never grasp
The wisdom of my soul
Intoxicated was I by the fragrance of your being
Real or illusion
I wish I could!

If only I could have got my act together
My dear ones would have felt less pain
I was selfish and lacked courage
And my life’s residue?
A void.

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT

1st Nov. 2008 1.47 a m.

Just another dark night?
A night without a heart!

I wish I was someone else!
A heart without a night.

The moon is in eclipse only when one can’t grasp the truth.



I have been deceived.

The sun never set;
The sun never rose
And time stands still.

I run and run only to find myself stranded
Not having moved an inch!

What moved then?

Or so she said,,,,,

At times I feel her absence is her presence. As if she is the void that fills me up. I only feel complete when her memories are with me. And like the earth which is seventy percent water.

I am merely a “thirty percent” self.

She is the poetry of my life.She exists and yet she is invisible. Like air. Like a thought. Like the soul.

She is the poet in my soul.

I am absent in her life. In her thought. In her plans. I am not even a memory of a childhood scar. Nor am I the laughter at the end of a joke.

Her sense of humor is silent. My wounds are autistic.

Life is an ellipsis of a mirage.

And hope –the catharsis of the violent ocean.