wishful thinking

the cool dampness of the night; unstirred, holds her breath; the breath which moves through me and connects me to all that is you. the moon draws her breath, each moment of her night, she is lucky; the gaze beckons softly but surely and yet unclear certainties disturb the mind. makes me want to run to a corner and cozy up to something warmer and beyond words, maybe getting into a matchbox with a name like Vittoria Grande or finding my fingers warmly ensconed in your lightly held grasp. i am the queen of wishful thinking after all.

not now

she averted her gaze, when she saw him sitting there drinking coffee. the diamond in her ear did not shine as brilliantly as the teardrop caught in her lashes. it had not been easy for her to accept the ending that had been imposed on her. the summer had left tangles and knots in her dark hair and the sun crushed violet stains on those sun kissed cheeks. and then he saw her biting down her lip, hard... a surge of memories as the bitter, hot coffee scalded his tounge.

10 pm

full moon in a rosy haze

i walk beneath

--leaves stirring sleep

on a dark night

as she sat there in the corner, sunbeams kissed her feet warm; incomplete phrases vied for attention. a night lit by a thousand candles; a field of lavender blooms; a half-baked moon and a couple of sweet danish pastries; pretty things to carry on her arm and colours as many as butterflies strewn across silk softer than the powder on their wings and the firefly...oh the firefly, the darkness turned into a cloak of black velvet by the firefly.

she collected these thoughts as the pool of light grew larger and enveloped her. someday, she hoped, those thoughts will become into fireflies to light up your darkness.

hurt

i want you to apologise for this asphyxiating silence

but of course you shall never read these words. i was waiting for roots to grow, watching too keenly like a hawk, circling above, an eye out for each shoot, each new leaf, a new comment, a fresh look; reading and re-reading notes.

and....

night falls silently
i fold up my thoughts
tuck them under my pillow
a quiet hurt
which is not quite loneliness
but...

but which even i don't understand.

dusk

evening sky,

are your cheeks too

freshly scrubbed?

words or none

and when you do sit down to say your piece, words suddenly turn strangers, shrug their shoulders and walk away. you are left staring at them, beseeching them, please come back, you little Rumpelstiltskins, this is when i need you but no they are gone and you are here, you and now; darling if you really meant it, it will come through wordlessly perfect.

4 pm

late afternoon sun:

walking through the empty park

only cicadas, mynas and crows now.

last night

a new moon -

sound of my breath

whispers of the past

sunstroke

gotta get some love to go; don't spill, keep it covered;

run fast and get over here;

let the music burn in your mind

and let those feet fly and take you high;

higher and higher;

you run and the sun is a distant memory now.

spare parts will be found on the way;

don't you worry i can always put you together

and shimmy my way through this.

i look for you under the sun stabbed sky...

i shut down the noise filtering in my ears. there is nothing i can do about it. i zone out. i drift away. there is a place i need to be, far away from everywhere i know but how do i find my way to there? the answers will come, they are easy but its the questions which are tricky. close your eyes to what you don't want to see and let it all fit how you want yourself to be. i change. i grow. i am not the person i used to be anymore. i see shades of my older self in people i knew back then but the disconnect has deepened and i don't even feel like closing the chasm. i care less and less about what you might think perhaps because you don't care enough anyways or maybe I don't.

In my mind i walk through the open spaces under a sky as pale as the grains of sand which stick to my brown ankles. distance ...just endless distance from everywhere. only the sound of the sighing wind whispering in my ears of an ancient need, of a timeless search. somethings don't come with a time stamp and somethings remain with us forever. i look for you in this vast nowhere and maybe this is how i reclaim my lost self.

under the sun stabbed sky runs a river deep below and before i am through I will drink from it. sun shine pierces the darkest of hearts but are you ready to see all that it reveals? how do i describe the sweetness of sand and how do i tell you that to be soundless, scared and still like a bloom in perpetuity is not what i want.

i look for you under that sun stabbed sky. i strain to hear your name on that wandering minstrel's song. the night comes at last and tonight i will search for you in my dreams and we will wash ourselves from the waters of that river.

storyboard

some things you said, like the way you narrow your eyes and look sideways

some things you hide, like the sharp defenses which rise up, ready to ignore any plea.

a private conversation

between two strangers. a random day, imaginary words.

Darling, I want to lose myself in you.

do that, my sweet.

Skies and oceans, shades of blue, hues of white and more would be added to our store, snapshots of life. we would laugh at those troubles and swim through like a fish and the fish would be named love.

That would be our story

this is me.

i am a creature of emotiona and affections and aches and bliss. I am a creature whose heart waxes and wanes with pleasure. I am a creature whose heart is bigger than it should be and it feels more deeply than it should. Rules of conduct and propriety are lost on me, I say and do what comes naturally to me. I play the fool. I kiss the angels. I don't understand a lot many things. I am often not what you presume of me but I will rarely correct you as it doesn't much matter to me. I am open to interpreation. My truth I know and you can only guess at it. The sun sets on me but the darkness soothes me. I get hurt and broken but I am a creature who is strong and that is all you will ever know of me, my strength. my vanity is a pretty cloak which keeps me warm in this cold, cold world. if i am vague and abstract then that's how i want to be. t

ripe but not quite

a million tears shatter
the sky
that was my brother
that was my father
i am born to run
i am born to give
love is a million heartbeats come together
you are my lover
you are my mother
i am born for you
i stand here for you
a million dreams running in my head
there was you
and that was me
i am born to roam
i am born to dream
but these dreams are mine alone
as i carry the multitudes in me.

tonight

summer night showers
green grass tickles my feet
as you do my heart.

playing footsie by myself.

what could have been but is not.

i waited.  but your footsteps did not echo mine.  I've been a different person with each space i occupied in Delhi, this city of myriad moods.  the mellow winter warmth thawed my frozen heart.  innocence and sweetness.  a hushed bliss.  exploring and discovering new words, colours leached from carnations, sunflowers suffused smiles which you tied around those months streaming in a wavelike ribbon behind.

it was sort of like holding the big shiny moon hidden in my tightly clenched fist.  we should have just let the free-fall be and then the tranquility would have been ours...we would have danced in its glow.  

rendered silent now by its loss.  if only things were different we would have laughed and played in the calm majesty of the present.

now that the present is lost and the past....how do i make sense of myself; how do i collect the chards of a broken image; how do i make my hurt better?

i am the waters of a flowing river.  there are not cracks in water, yes the ripples will be there but the calmness will return.

breathe.... and let go.

self-deception

deception is not always deliberate.  i woke up this morning with memories of a lost love, of a love which is still moist and warm, which can still breathe life into the dark recesses of my mind.  They say you must make space for anything new to take root; that a new love shall want its legroom.  Here, now...where is the space for it to deepen and take root.  Shall it then abandon hope or stay and live with the old?  or shall it weep for the sweet juices of an earlier love which still remains and whose luscious secrets are plenty?  shall they rot together or will a new harmony be born?

c'est la vie

i try to sit still, control my breathing and embrace my delinquent thoughts.  vexed. with myself. things are changing around me, the sun is regaining its colour, no longer a pale invalid but healthier, more robust now...the breeze is at times the exact degree of your warm breath.  I envy the seasons their knowing of time, their purpose, it all leads to somewhere... to a newer place with a regularity which is ancient, timeless.  I on the other hand, an errant lost soul, time passes me by but i don't reach a state where beginnings lead to fullness and endings to closure...for me its all a continuum...i feel i am becoming a river which only knows how to flow and right now i am carrying a lot of debris along.   I have no clue to my purpose, no idea of my destination and I don't even know if there is any goodness in being so...all i know is that it is so and that you shall always bring me sweetness to my heart.

of sufi shrines

hands raised in prayers all around me, doves circled the golden dome. peace and hope wafted from the incense sticks as i heard stifled sobs around me.  

over the weekend i visited ajmer sharif with khairul, my sister in law and some of her freinds from her office. Ajmer Sharif is a sufi shrine in rajasthan. and earlier in the evening today i visited Qutab sahib, another sufi shrine in delhi with my mom and khairul.  

i am not really into visiting shrines and honestly up till now i did not understand why people do...but maybe i am begining to get a handle on it now. the reason i suppose is that you allow yourself to be immersed in a space which is afloat with the power of faith. its a space blessed by angels and for me to feel that I had to suspend my cynicism and i stopped trying to 'put a brave face on'; i allowed myself to cry and it was that release or whatever but the vibe was gentle and so soothing, that the tears just kept on rolling. faces shone with tears and humility...absorbed in pain they clutched to hope, even if it was frayed and trampled upon. when you come to a shrine, you put yourself in a space where the air is soaked in prayers and adoration of the divine.  

the rose sellers, the fakirs (alm-seekers), the khadims (guides)...all clamour for your attention. even though you are standing in a crowd you are consious of only your own heart's voice. words float in the air and you catch a few strings and like signs from above they touch you with utmost gentleness and you feel you are blessed.  

i believe god is everywhere and not just in 'religious' spaces but places like these where millions come and pray, where every inch is stood upon and prayed...all that energy come together and bounces aoround and seeps back into you and all of that is because of that sufi who just prayed and prayed and prayed and loved the creator in a way which is beyond my comprehension; such piety, such love transcends time and space and that is what blesses the likes of me who go begging...its not the sufi but god who blesses those who come and lay respect to his lover.  

the qawalli singer at qutub sahib sang about the universality of pain and I realised just how commonplace are my desires and how often my prayers are answered. These sufi shrines have been here for centuries and people don't come here just to get the work done, so to speak but i think it is to reaffirm hope in a higher power.