It's not a word...

How do you know?
How do you know it’s that?
Who told you it's eternal?
And should I claim the eternal?
No…it’s not a word…
It never can be.
The word is too little…inconsiderate…blind and shrewd…
My feelings are my own nest
No word shall hold them ever
And put us all to rest.
It’s a collage I tell you
You…me…your thoughts and
Mine…
Holding all each others hands
We do the all-fall-down…
Laughing and crying together
Till the magic fades
Tomorrow.
And hands change hands…
I see yours in other's…
A sound...like something breaks...
The little girl is full of sorrow.

Escape...

What do you say?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to run away?
Run away from the flux and battle?
Escaping into the arms of ambiguity and timelessness…
Away from the memories and nightmares…
Walking into a script of one’s own?
Away from your subtlety? Your judgments?
Shedding the burden of love…of livelihood…
Away from you? From your face too?
Into my world?

The Wedding...

I tell you…it wasn’t me. The surroundings…they were actually amusing! Tell me, how would you react when you see a bulky-bodied dame of thirty, attempting to stroll with fairy-steps on her terrace, all decked-up in a blinding red-saree? The aanchal too, mind you, was stretched out in true Bollywood style for the breeze to fill in…that is, if the breeze could find any space, anywhere…My poor soul! How could I stop it from smiling the moment I glanced at the bride across the lane, from my balcony? Not that it was my first brush with the Big Fat Indian Wedding…but somehow I am amused, shocked, bamboozled anew, each time.
“ Look at that!” I turned to Ma…“who does she think she is? And what is that bloke up to? Why does she have to make a sad-looking fairy out of herself for the photographer?”
“Shut up!” pat came the response from Ma! “ You think they have all lost it…like you?”
“Lost it?” I chuckled in amusement.
Ma couldn’t take it anymore… “Yes! Your head, your common-sense…not everyone in the world wants to have her vidai in an auto-rickshaw!” she blabbered, wrenching water from the clothes she was attempting to hang in the balcony…but couldn’t… too distracted by activities across the lane you see!
“Ma, that’s really called getting hyper and going overboard! I never said that! Just because I like traveling in an auto all the time…” Yes people…it was true. I loved auto-rickshaws…the thud of those cheap stereos, the glitter of the wallpapers, the badly-printed posters of Bollywood divas and the over-all thrill of being in the world’s cheapest roller-coaster…simply too-much! Besides I had to board one to get to college everyday…never mind…
As the afternoon passed, guests started pouring in to the lane. The scent of old and new perfumes, the sweat from bulky bodies, the cloistered smell of old benarsi sarees and silk kurtas…it all climbed up to my flat. Ma came in with her lunch-“ not cooking anything for the evening…surely we are all going to the wedding?” I caught the question as smoothly as it was leg-glanced towards me-
“ I don’t think I am going…can’t say about Dad…”. Ma had stopped eating “go on…go on finding faults with half the world…and the other half won’t care about you…your friends happen to be the only worthy creatures available I think…”
“ Why bring them in this issue Ma? Don’t you know it’s my final sem? Have got a dozen assignments to wrap up…besides…” I added in a jovial tone… “I have already checked out all the hunks pouring in…they aren’t worth it…All in over-sized kurtas…excess of deos and hair-gels…obsessed with their handy-cams…all in all, highly un-interesting!”
“And what about your great institution? No gem worthy of you there too, it seems…” Ma added sarcastically. She always came back to this…not that she would have appreciated if I landed home one day with a missile by me...err…a guy …but it was a handy thing to say none the less. True it was in a way…I hadn’t ‘fallen’ or ‘got up’ for anyone in my five years of hanging around in the campus. Was I a men-basher? Don’t think so…I could bash women too…I mean criticize…and more so because I couldn’t stand the kind of antics Tutu was indulging in on her terrace! Besides I had my close pals who were in relationships…and I never had issues…lets move on…
As evening set in, Ma became restless with my placidity.
“How have things changed…” she began lamenting… “Forget about obeying elders, girls won’t even listen to them anymore…”
“It’s okay Ma…I knew you would resort to this…” I sighed shutting my book… “Get ready, I will help you…”
“Help? And what about you? Are you bent upon acting headstrong? Can’t you just stroll across the lane and stay for a few minutes?” she was exasperated…I knew what would follow…a session of painting, coloring, bleaching etcetera…all for people who see you sweating it out marketing, washing, cleaning…everyday.

We joined the wedding-party at night…the lane was packed with cars. Tutu’s dad had booked some extra cars…plush air-conditioned ones…to be placed on the mouth of the lane, just to add to the ambience of excess and luxury. No sooner did we enter the house, than I met up with a few other girls of the locality. I had seen these bland creatures all my life…they had never giggled this incessantly before, all of course in honor of the young men present there. They are all young creatures…I told myself…simply chill…and let them be! But…what was I?… Never mind…
The wedding ceremony had begun. The groom’s feet were duly washed…a lot if suit pieces, gold, wristwatches and even utensils were being donated by the perpetually-stooping father of the bride
“Ma…”I couldn’t help it… “Is he a bhikhari?”
“Shut-up!” was the expected reply…
A young man approached my friend, as we girls were sharing a light moment… “I too will take my fairy away in a doli someday…” He told her excitedly, breezing pass us…truly Hrithik!
“ But don’t forget to buy some utensils for your home!” I quipped in, as we all broke into laughter…

“Can we leave now by your kind permission?” I asked Ma, an hour later, in part- pleading, part-humoring manner…
“ Stay here…look around…we shall soon have your sister’s wedding…don’t you have any sense of duty?” Why hyperboles hitting me all the time? I wondered and said…
“ I am glad you have two daughters Ma…do all your gala arrangements for Di…and spare me…I shall simply ask my fellow to come to the temple…call my friends…marry and leave…and yes! In an auto…!” there was nothing left in my kitty to irritate her further…

The night passed… I stood back to observe. To call the place over-crowded was an understatement… Sharma Aunty spent all evening comparing her saree with other’s, Ma kept on making mental notes about the Dos and Don’ts of wedding arrangements, the bride’s parents must have pained their jaws smiling to their guests and counterparts…stooping in hospitality…guys couldn’t have enough of capturing gorgeous maidens through their lenses…guess it all formed part and parcel of a gala wedding…but where was the ease and beauty of a lovely gathering with near and dear ones? I wondered…
And then, from nowhere, rose a wild roar of laughter…a young and fast voice caught my attention. It was the cynosure of a discussion, going on, in another part of the lawn. The peels of laughter it was generating, made me curious.
“ So buddies, personally I would not like to be fed and washed and worshipped like a lamb before sacrifice! Show me a temple…that is if my girl believes in one…I shall walk in, marry her in a simple, economy and environment friendly ceremony, and off I go…! Not in a hired Mercedes my fellows…could one of you get an…auto-rickshaw?” Hahaha…the crowd cheered!
“Hey!”…Did I hear correctly? … “Who are you fellow?” I told my excited self, walking across the lawn, towards the thrilled gathering…

With the Sun...

Something went down with the Sun yesterday…and never came back…
It was time.
Though you keep your windows closed,
My voice will surely meander into your room…
And you will hear…hear incessantly.
I had spoken…
Words do come back...to haunt…
They get along well with the Sun.
But I won’t…
I am the companion of time…
And time left you behind…behind me…
You can stand up now alone…pretending to frown with the Sun…
But I know…know you well!
So be with the Sun…proud and strong in its glory…
I shall discover you anew…when you cry alone
At nightfall…

Bouquet...

Days…evenings…dreams…reveries…words,
Gathered into a bouquet over umpteen hours…
Tied together with a new, red ribbon…
Kept in a corner of the room…a witness to all the love…
Till a day...when it’s picked up and flushed…swoosh it goes…
Into the drain…lost into the ever-swelling sea.
The sea of lost love…

A poem...

A happy dip in cold, placid water,
A joke coaxing sad faces into laughter…
A warm hug from an old friend,
A caring hand from a tie that’s uncertain…
A smile lighting up a wrinkled face,
A loved voice…heard after many days…
A memory sheltering you on a cold night,
A guiding word when the path has no light…
A song cheering tired souls,
A story weaved by a gentle voice, wrapping you in folds…
A word of praise from a grave voice,
A right move made…without making a choice…
A timely help from a not-so-good friend,
A lovely gift that your neighbor sent…
A good luck wish from an untiring mother,
A lazy, long stroll in lovely weather…
A help you gave and promptly forgot,
A memorable lesson that a stranger taught…
A home warm and bustling with all your loved ones,
A life of contentment…lived on your own terms…
A heart willing to live…not merely survive,
A soul that not only exists…but knows…it’s alive!

Words...

I tell you…words are powerful.
The power of words!
The power of ‘power’ itself!
Have a look around you…
The air is full of them.
There they are…on the roads, on the walls, on your table…and in your head!
You walk, you eat, you dream, you shout…
All in a pool of words…
My closet too is full of them…
They tumble upon me as I open it…
Oh no…I don’t like them all…only the heavy ones…
I too am a connoisseur you know…
Justice, rationality, equality and right!
They are my favorites…
Well-chosen you say? Indeed…
Multi-purpose, multi-dimensional…well-fitting altogether…
But I use them sparingly…keeping them safely in a clean wooden drawer…
There are many who are after them!
‘Justice’ has a noble sound to it…
‘Rationality’ stands out on the page!
‘Equality’ has a pacifying effect…irons out the creases on foreheads…
And ‘Right’?…gives you a sense of your might?
You are right!
And even as I talk and talk…spilling them unheedingly…their price shoots up!
So let me check my drawer again…may be someone’s after them…
Justice, rationality, equality and might…
Who will possibly buy them for me again?
Oh no one…!
Words are powerful…so here I go!
Seeking ‘power’ in a pool of words…
Inside my clean, wooden drawer…

A Wait...

I waited for quite sometime you see…
It had been raining all day…
So I stood at my washed white window
Waiting to collect them in my hands…
And then pour them out,
Slowly, with a steady hand,
One by one into my life,
Drip, drip, drip…
I could see myself happy…
Colored in shades of a new life…
Waiting to live each moment…life after life…
And so it rained, and rained, pouring all day…
And I fell asleep…at last…empty-handed…
Deceived by it…again!
Yes…the rainbow…it never arrived with its bag of colours.

Home-coming...

Soon the cool breeze will freeze…
Freeze into a cold whiff pricking you along the road…
Soon the sun will go down…
Down, down, down…till you can’t find it anymore.
Very soon the air will smell of stale dead leaves,
Of dead flowers trampled upon…
Soon enough the lights shall blur on the streets,
Leaving you in company of the eerie smog…
Soon a sudden gust of warm air will remind you of a home…
You will run and run…backwards…with heated ears and restless breath.
Soon you will knock...on a familiar, dilapidated door,
Only to be frozen too…frozen by that face you see…
Frozen by the painful memory of the face you never get to see…

These are strange times...

Something new has been scribbled on the page…
I hope it remains there.
These are strange times…times when nothing remains…
The woman thought she had created a child…
Time did the trick…it wasn’t a child who scowled back!
Shadows too are quick to leave you!
You need to tie them by your waist…
And hands?
They leave you too…yours…and another’s…
I am here though…I remain.
You can turn…turn and ask me a question.
Questions always remain…
And the answer?
I had scribbled it for you…yes I had!
May be it walked away…
Nothing remains…these are strange times…

What do I create...?

What do I create if you are my thought?
What do I bring forth? You are all that I have…
All my songs are but melodies of your memories…
How do I choose a new path when all roads lead to you?
You stand there…at the end of all journeys…
I move forward to be there…every day…
You are the first fleeting thought of every new dawn…
You are the companion of my tired dreams…
You are the arched horizon I try reaching to…
You are the hand I wish to hold on…
Are you there? There…for me?
Can I ask? Can I doubt?
Can I live and not be yours?
Can you live on without me? Beyond me?
And then I see it! Why do I?
The world knows…how can we not?
You are the Sky…too proud to stoop…
I am the Earth…destined not to stand.

Masks!!

A silent, neat and creepy battle is underway…
Who shall have the upper hand?
Or shall we say the final hand?
This is the land of the confident masks…masks piled on masks…
No…they are not people…simply masks!
Masks that laugh, masks that giggle, masks that command, masks that stoop!
You thought you saw a human being beneath?
Sorry! those days have passed…
No flesh, no bones, no blood, no pulse…only masks meeting masks.
So who shall win the battle in this land of the masks?
Can masks attempt to unmask each other?
I ponder at this and laugh…
A wait in cold numbness…who dares to ask?
The battle gets underway…an unending task…
I witness it today…tomorrow…the year after…and centuries pass…
I am the wisest…the shrewdest…why? Do you ask?
I did not act…did not judge…did not rise…did not walk…
The only mask who never joined the muddle…
Never felt the need to unmask!

That time of the year...

Its that time of the year again…
When yellow leaves stretch themselves on pavements,
Welcoming every step of your lonely stroll…
When the fragrance of the revived gulmohar
Follows you unfailingly, through familiar lanes and by-lanes…
That time of the year when misty mornings
Arouse old memories, enveloping life with sweet melancholy…
When the sun becomes kinder…merely kissing the skin
With its honeyed warmth.
A time when the buzz of the city calls out loud…
Making your isolated poise more special, more picturesque…
When strange, small, colorful birds greet you in parks,
And even twitter impatiently…waiting for your nod!
A time when life slows down…waiting for you to admire its new dress…
A time when happiness hides in nooks…breathless,
Excited…nervously wanting to be found…
That time of the year that pushes you unawares…with its quick hands,
Into dreams of a perfect world…
Its that time of the year when words disobey your commands…
Impulsively dancing into tender, meandering poems…
That very time of the year again…when you long to be happy...and yes...forever.
A time of the year…that waves good-bye too soon…
Deserting you abruptly…
Amidst those silent yellow leaves and the scent of the moody gulmohar…

Silence is golden...

Silence is golden…it begets gold?
I sew my mouth with it, waiting for the gold to follow…
And tick, tick, tick…the clock moves on…
The gold never follows!
I wait for time, more time….
Beat by beat…pulse by pulse…
What will follow?
Surely the gold I had been promised?
Today or tomorrow?
Silence leads me on,
In a dumb vacancy I wait…
Imprisoned in a silent hollow…
May be the gold lies beneath,
My prize…bursting in a furrow?
I dig and dig and dig…
Sinking deeper
In my dark burrow…
Till my veins spit out blood,
And hot tears follow…
How can I be blind any longer?
Rewarded with rubies and pearls…
A fool…
Waiting for plain gold to follow..!

The Widening Gyre...

They say it all moves
Inside the widening gyre…
Spinning breathlessly, going down, deep down…
My birth, those memories, good days and good deeds,
They are all in the gyre now.
When they can’t feed their bloated bellies
They leave themselves in the mouth of the widening gyre.
The lost answers, the bliss, the illusion of togetherness…
You need to fetch them from the maddening gyre.
The dead must be in the gyre too,
Waiting in a dizzy swim for more company…
The rain, the clouds, the tears,
They are all lurking in the belly of the gyre.
It widens, engulfs, spins endlessly…
Ravaging the domain of life.
Will you run now?
Should I run too?
Run and stretch the ever-widening gyre?

Its not death...

Its not death yet,
Not even a parched eternity…
The red Sun can’t swallow my ends
The mocking beams can't prick my conscience any more.
I don’t need to hide from the light,
The clouds have avenged me!
I am the slimy, cleansed mud,
Washed, sifted, freshly-coloured,
Desiring to be strong, defiant,
Moulded anew,
By destiny’s hands.
Ah! But don’t tell me!
Do I need the Sun again?

The Saviour...

The Night opens her dark eyes,
The wild waves respond
Gathering like a demon…
I am attacked and splashed and beaten…
Abandoned on a naked shore
Waiting to be discovered and warmed
By the unfaithful Sun…

We...

I will walk with you among the stars…
I told him one day,
The lazy sun chuckled at us,
Coldly there we lay…
No past, no future, no yes and no,
No strings on us to hold,
No worries, no woes, no ties, no claims
On a planet distant and old…
He smiled in true cynical charm,
Turned to me and said,
Its when you mock thus sweet,
Again and again,
That you’re actually at your best!
I matched the smile,
I matched the calm,
And came up with the unsaid…
The jests are all true my love,
But teach me to love in earnest!

Eternal mate...

Love unlove …
Build and shatter…
Support me or annihilate.
Abjure ignore…
Deny crucify…
Torture me or reciprocate.
Ignore respond…
Shelter then dismiss…
Break me or recreate.
Accept deprive…
Abandon yet hold…
Adore me or suffocate.
Teach unteach…
Laugh or mock…
Hate me and retaliate.
I live in you…
Am part of you…
Your fleeting shadow…
Your eternal mate.

Avatars of Hrithik!!

Dreamy-eyed maidens coming out of Inox blush,
Their hearts are full of him, upon their minds descends a hush!
His mane of crimson gold, his flawless Grecian face,
O heavens is he really an Indian or of the Homeric race?
More charming than any knight he looks, riding his cool bike,
What are locks for such a hero, they could give their wigs outright!
O the hearts, the hearts, how often they forget their duty to beat,
It’s the anguish, the mesmerizing effect, of the dhoom2 visual treat!
O Cupid! why are maidens so lost here, so sick?
I blundered the audacious question, before realizing it was Hrithik!
The fairer, simpler sex, how often, they act this romantic,
But alas! What pity to see the saner sex too, indulge in exasperating antics!
Before tender maidens could battle and win over one,
Here are Hrithiks churning out feverishly, each minute, a dozen!
Ah! thoughtless damsels don’t pine now for getting the One,
Fate shall soon become kind, bestowing a personal Hrithik on each one.
How? oh, how? They scream, in awe and misery ask,
I smile upon the innocent ones, heaven knows, it’s a swift task!
While you shall not bask in tea-parties as Pope’s Belinda could,
New stratagems there are in plenty, like logging on to Orkut!
Flutter each briskly here and fabricate a profile,
Soon your prospects shall swell and soon the Hrithiks shall arrive.
No amorous sighs needed here, no smiles and arched brows,
Hrithik in suit, Hrithik in jeans, they shall descend upon you like crows!
The same smile, the same visage, the same hair, the same bike,
They shall haunt you, and plague you, till there’s no hell like your life!
Scenes from epics shall visit you, each and every day,
Till you tire your soul by looking at the beau, whether in dhoom2 or K3G!
Oh maidens how shall you stand, those eyes, those muscles, those looks?
The misery of tolerating Hrithiks dumbly smiling in your scrapbooks!
Soon your weak nerves shall Hrithik’s omnipresent status feel,
You shall shudder and regret and lament and say-“who wants Hrithik? Not me!”