M&A 1

He took my phone. Went through the images. Stopped at some for more than a second, with an impressed kind of look. Relief. But mostly he just scrolled through. And I could stare at his face. Unabashedly.

You know that feeling... The kind of perverse pleasure of watching a movie your parents don't want you to watch on mute or low volume after they have fallen asleep? Or reading a story book when you are supposed to study? That is how I felt when I could look at him for one minute straight.

But then he looked up. And i looked straight, cold, detached, an absolute lie. While he said nice pics, and my heart flew away. Jumping across the buildings and into the sea to watch the sunset, savor the last rays of the sun on my face!
And so the day was bright again!

M&A: Intro

Flutters.


Thats the feeling in my tummy when he passes by.


Did he catch me trying to look at him from the corner of my eye? Did he notice the blush that rose on my cheeks when he came and sat next to me? I could not say a word. He would have thought I am so cold. So uncool.


But what to do, whenever he speaks, my heart melts in my mouth and time stands still. I seem to have lost my tongue, and all I have is a blurred demented vision.


I will tell you the stories. Later.

A piece of me
looks for a piece of you
another piece is sleepy now.


A piece was here
in her dream world
One piece out there
wants to fight the world


Its pieces now
Not one whole me
a piece of me
searching a piece of you


Like giant jigsaw
puzzle
in all shapes and sizes
Some smoothened edges
some deepened voids


A piece of me
wants a piece of you
A piece of me
can only give a piece to you


Till then the pieces

are lying

some face up

some face down

some buried under a heap

waiting to see the light of day

or the dark moon...

A piece of me

and a piece of you

will join someday

complete the face...

Sometimes, love is not enough

i would run
across the fields
jump through the air
and fall.
Scrape my knees
and arms.
Mom would wipe 
the tears
and her hug would warm
my heart...
My palms would bleed
and leave their marks
reminding me of the mistake made...


Sometimes, love is not enough
to heal the pain
the stains still remain...


To be a doctor
was a dream i chased
for 12 years or more
and failed
in my sole attempt.
Dad gave his shoulder
for my tears
and whispered "You tried my love,
that's all that matters"
"Yes i tried and failed"
Now i search for another
mad dream to chase
a dream that makes
my waking hours bright
and life worthwhile...


Sometimes, love is not enough
to help you win
your sole childhood dream...


In my life
i saw a lot of grief
i stooped again & again
to pick up the broken pieces
and make them one.
i gathered, i tied
i held them all
and loved them
with all my heart
making them my reason
to feel alive...


Sometimes, love is not enough
to make you live


Sometimes...
love is not enough
love is just a shield
from utter loneliness
that i feel...

Knotted love

Too soon to untie

knots

and smoothen

the frayed ends...

i pick one at a time

which pulls

and stretches

the fabric of my life

and i fear it would be torn

to bits and pieces

if i tried too hard

or remain knotted forever

if i let go...

unsure

for the first time

i waver

at every step taken

and look back

for all that was wrong

search for the rights

to push me on...

its the promise

of finding you

that keeps up my will

to try and not give up

its the promise

of celebration, festival of lights

that i smile

and hold back the tears

for some other day,
some other hour...

Fanciful tale

Tinkling anklets
Instead of beating heart...
Fingers entangled
through the web of stars...
Your frown
will drown
in my endless laugh


Stars turn their face
they feel too shy
they know not why
i hold you close to my heart...


a step here, and a walk there
and we have reached where
i hear
your fears
in those empty words


Love i trust
would fill the empty bowls
and our soul
and we will have
our endless laugh
in the bed of stars...

My Daddy's song

It came along the way

sometime,

in the middle

not at the very start.

It came & held my hand

and i was cradled 

in your arms.

A song was hummed

in bass baritone

& sombre...

Yeh raat yeh chandni phhir kahaan

sunn ja dil ki dastaan...

Aapki pehlu mai aakar ro diye

Daastane gum suna kar, ro diye...

Rastaa wahi musafir hai wahi

Ik tara najaane kahaan chhup gaya

Duniya wahi duniya wale wahi

koi kya jaane kiska jahaan luut gaya

From Rafi to Mukesh

to Kishore's songs

i was held in a sway...

and slowly my eyelids closed

a smile crept through

and i dreamt away...

i have come a long way

but still when sleep deceives me

i sleep

listening to the same song

that you sung...

and sway to the beats

of your rhythmic pat on my back

and the warmth of your arms...

And as the night's shadow falls

i wish i were a kid again

with you holding me

the way only you can...

Words...

and the words won't form...

like those tears

which are hidden behind the layers

of undying hope...

cheap, easy catch.

my pride had a fall...

blinded by possibilities

i jumped, heart and soul

before i looked where the road goes...

Why is it that the smallest word

can hurt deeper than the Excalibur?

We would not be 'Us'

if she had not done that...

We are not 'Us'

because we felt that...

All the words

are just cacophonic noises...

they keep the silence at bay

but have no meaning left...

and i sit here

to put in words

what my heart can never say...

Yeh Dilli hai mere yaar

i miss the red brick walls
with some patches of pink and grey.
the rickshaws that drove faster
than normal legs could take.

And eat the chholey kulche 
made in large tin vessels
on the roadside, 
and Bunta near the gates.

Where PKKs were a rage
and colour coded
bags, bangles, ear rings and lipsticks
fashioned the place.

Where pierced nose
straightened hair (with blonde stripes!)
and one legged anklets
would always stay

Where ideals were fought
with passion and blood
and many more broken
and newly made.

Where Kurta, jhola
and chappals,
all made perfect sense.

I miss the life
that was constantly happening
while it always remained the same
just the faces changed.

The loud garish people
with warm, colourful hearts
with more colourful balloons
during Holi days

The place which calls itself

the heart of hindustan

And has some of the best brains

and brawns of the world

I miss it for all this
but more for the ones
who shared my laughter
and my grief
and they are still there
where 'We' used to be...

A bus ride.

Crack.
Something broke in there.
and the hollowness was back. 
shallow, deep, endless hole of nothing.
And i stand where i was.
Aeons back.


To those legs
mine were just another pair
of double x chromosomes.
Legs that would keep him warm
down there
where he needed to be held up.


I was free stuff.
Well, almost.
He had to travel anyway
Price of the ticket he paid
and then sat in comfort
of the closeness in the bus space.


i cringed.
the hard, wet window panes felt better
than those dirty hands
and legs
against mine.


But i couldn't speak.
Even though i know i have the right,
and i have fought for it more
than many i know.


i couldn't look into the eyes and say leave.
i couldn't raise my voice or my arms.


i cringed.
and prayed for the next bus stop.
And when it came i stood up
and left, without a noise.

Another one for Mumbai

It is the city with thousands lights
Of dreams, of men, of mad mad nights

You can run a million miles and try
this city will show you pleasures for life
Which grew from all its blocked up drains
and clogged up roads and houses bent...

They see the scum, i see the sky
and hope and hope for more delights
the potholes trip and scrape my knees
i stand right back, for Promised land

That land shall see one more new face
flash lights will shine on one more name
Till then i walk the crowded road
and smile on at that stranger's face...

Glimpses

wakefulness. 
missing a bus ride. 
raindrops n scented candles. 
a red quilt, few blue cushions and the orange striped bed sheet. 
few untold moments. and a smile. 
of years melting away. of days getting longer.
some warmth. the whirring of the fan.
and shadows. reflections in space.
comfort of an auto ride. bumpy roads.
love, and some waterfalls.


red, yellow and pink flowers.
the rusty road.
more stories, more thoughts.
intense. superfluous.
cold walls. warm hands.
embrace.
slow, fast, slow, slow, fast. faster.
abrupt.
mocha. maggi and more.
back seat. front gears.
all yours. all mine.
not ours. not ever.


transient. ever changing.
all same.
one day. 2 nights.
3 years.
and a decade.
open and free.
free and lost. but walks.
gentle wind. close friends.
sweet nothings.
smile. live. breathe.
a life's song.

As I sit down to pen my thoughts

i miss the ink spots

and smudges on my fingertips

as i chew on the fleeting,

elusive line that would explain

what i am feeling.

They are like the friends we make,

who are but a memory

from that part of us, which exists

but is lost

in the present tense

while habits have taken control

of our routine day and night role.

I search for that name

in the contact list of my cell phone

the one i want to talk with

is now long gone…

erased from the memory

of the sim and the phone

and i lie here

hoping she would hear

and we could talk in our dreams

where time stands still

with no call waiting.

Love talks

B: "I love the way you smile"

G: "Ha ha. Okay, let me smile some more"

B: "I love the way your hair moves when you are walking."

G: "Let me open it up then"

B: "I love the way your skin glows in the setting sun."

G: "That might not be a natural glow though. There are a lot of products available in the market, you know."

B: "I love the way your eye changes shapes with different expressions"

G: "I should have been an actress no?"

B: "I love the way your hand nestles into mine and fits in perfectly"

G: "Ok! Enough now! Tell me one thing about me that you don't love. That you despise!"

B: "I do hate something about you"

G: (After a pause) What?

B: "I hate your absence"