The bride

The glance in her eyes tingles
few fears and tiny tears
inside.

The hesitation in her steps charts
known past to unknown future
Beside.

Her painted face and braided hair shrouds
secret stories and fairytale fantasies 
never shared.

Her effervescent smile and jasmine fragrance colors
years of sweat and shame
concealed.

She whispers,
"I rather be your lover forever
than a bride today."

Her groom murmurs,
"Yes, be my consort for life
Than an escort tonight."

Do you feel?

Is it that fleeting moment when all of your senses are engaged or focused?
Is it that overwhelming feeling when you're at the feet of your favorite god?
Is it that uncontrollable surge of tears when a beloved is no more a part of your daily living life?
Is it that place where music takes you?
Is the way the poet behaves when he sees a maiden in a forest different from when others see it?Is feeling what happens when you hear a long forgotten song and become ecstatic?
Is feeling waiting for the voice to say Hey at the other end of the telephone line?
Is feeling waiting for that letter or email, which ends with "Yours truly"?
Is feeling captured in any language? 

Is feeling just an emotion?
Is feeling something that exists between being sensitive and being emotional?

What is this thing we call feeling?
And do you feel it? For me?

Just need

No want. 
No desire.

My love, 
I need you.

!

So this is where life brings us. 

One step front and two steps back... But am glad that at least, we're taking those steps together. Sharing fears was never this easy or simple. Few of our exes and muses did figure in our talks and aren't we glad we shared all that?

Our paths definitely collided when we were least expecting it. You were all set to set sail once again. I was all set to drift once again, maybe.

But then across cities, chats, and calls, we discovered something in each other that we had definitely searched in others before. Talking about multiple ,,, and ... inside our heads, we decided to put an ! on our foreheads instead.

To those loved ones

The day has been sombre to say the least. 

With an aching back and an even more aching though relieved heart, I return here. To my blog. My sacred space. This is my offering to the gods out there. Myself. My very being.

Where I put up all my mirrors forever. 
Where I am nude and naked and myself. 
Where I have eternal truths that are instantaneous. 
Where time, as a concept, doesn't exist. 
Where forever doesn't come with terms and conditions. 
Where I put up my fears and observations and confessions and longings. 

Where the poet inside me cries,
And the lover inside me dies 
With every post
To live 
Once again with the next post.

This is that sacred space where few have entered and existed. Few besties, some roomies found a passing mention; few loves and even fewer muses have found a resting place here forever. 

It's not with some vanity or exalted sense of being that I am writing this but my blog is a sum of all my parts. The parts may be larger than the whole. Bits and pieces of life here and there. Some scattered, some blown away, some smothered, some trampled and some dusted and done away with. 

Few feathers have landed here and few stayed on. Few withered leaves fell here while most stayed on on the branch through till next autumn. Few let me go and few I have walked away from. Few doors were closed forever and few windows were shut forever. Sometimes by them, sometimes the deed was mine. 

I have lived the truth that one man's food can be another man's poison. But I know I can write and heal myself; my writing is cathartic and is an antidote for me for all worldly poisons.

So this blog post is for those... Who may not have an antidote within... To those who never made it to my blog... To those loved ones, who made a difference in my life but for some reason were never written upon. 

I humbly send a prayer out and hope that tomorrow's just another day and that like every bad phase that befell me earlier, this too shall pass. For them.

Our legacy

Those nostalgic streets and that pavement stones

Will they remember my love, my love?

Those desperate prayers and that miracle we experienced

Will they remember my moments of truth?

Those red bricks and that wet cement made of my sweat

Will they remember my home?

Those fiery poems and that short love story

Will they remember my muse?

Those books and their pages

Will they remember my devotional hands?

Those eyes and that lip

Will they remember my first French kiss?

Those bra hooks and that braided hair

Will they remember me undressing you?

Those carefree days and that sensual night

Will they remember your muffled moans?

Those simmering summers and that fateful winter

Will they remember your season of sadness?

Those years to come and children unborn

Will they remember our alphabet of love, my legend?

Well, come

You always chased a dream.

Well, here's a reality.

Feel the combined sighs of our hearts. 

You always feared the past.

Well, here's a remedy.

Talk to your mother's daughter's photo taken when you were 18.

You always wanted a fairy tale.

Well, here's a quick tale.

Ask your goosebumps where I breathe.

You always wanted to paint your story.

Well, here's a start.

Lend me your paintbrushes while you sing my song.

You always longed to be a star.

Well, let's sail ahead.

Give me your sailboat and I'll look at the night sky.

You always desired an epiphany.

Well, let's hold hands.

Put your head on my chest while we inherit our life stories.

Dunking

Are you red?
Afraid. 

Are you yellow?
Mellow. 

Make up your mind. 
Listen to your heart. 

Do what you do if you are fickle but funny.
Do what you do if you are flawed but gorgeous.

Do what you always do when unafraid:
Love. 
Let go.
Love.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Tick.

Have another cup of coffee at the corner coffee shop. Alone.
Turn yet another page from another second-hand book amidst its peculiar fragrance. 

Brew a new storm in your teacup.
And now, dunk a glucose biscuit in that tea.

Turquoise Ink

She was ink; he was a blotting paper. 

She was still stuck on words yet to dry; he absorbed her words both said and unsaid.

To her, she was a unicorn stitched together with a mermaid in the fertile imagination of the gods somewhere; to him, she was just the final one.

She wrote: Fear. Betrayal. Longing.

He absorbed: Heart. Love. You.

And with his final breath on her words, he died. 

But, at last, her ink dried.

Here and there

There:

The sun-setting and withering flowers

Sigh. 

They whisper my names from across your courtyard.

   Here:

The plastic flowers adorn a flower vase

Dirty.

They wish for your passing fragrance at least for a while.

      There:

You look for me, with an apron on your waist, when opening your refrigerator

Cold.

The vegetables and food inside remind you of me.

         Here:

The broken clocks on my wrist and wall hold time

Still.

Their hands act as the lever upon which I set my dreams.

            There:

The songs that escape unheard from your lips 

Sepia-tinted.

Their notes touch the soul of the deity at the corner temple.

               Here:

Every itch in my body reminds me of places you

Touched.

The burning sensations long for your ointment-like kisses.

                  Everywhere:

Each door I pass through and every window I open inside/

Outside.

I name them the sweet nothings that endeared you once upon a time.

That kind of love

You're that kind of morning where the dew and the sunlight argue on a Lotus leaf.

You're that kind of afternoon where the sun is high in the sky and through the jhaali, a cool breeze wafts in.

You're that kind of evening where a neighbor plays ghazals on a gramophone and you sing along in your balcony.

You're that kind of night where the moonlight kisses a meadow near a stream and under a lone tree, a thousand fireflies fire up in flight.

You're that kind of love where koans are written to explain it to the world.

 

She asks, "I don't know what is love. I want to know."

He smiles... "You still don't know?"

You are that

You're that look, which explains everything at the end of a love story.
You're that cup of coffee that makes friends out of strangers.
You're that silence, which is deafeningly loud, in its absence.
You're that artiste, who can stir up a dead man's soul.
You're that candle, which lights up the balcony for a first date. 
You're that shredded sky with cirrocumulus clouds that makes a sunset unforgettable.
 
But more than all that, you're that rare book, which I always wanted to read. Lay my hands upon. In the cottonesque rectangle of my room when I am reading you cover to cover, page by page, you listen to my stories. When I inhale your pages to get a whiff of that old-world, second-hand fragrance from your pages, you gift your words to me. 

I hold my breath and I know that, like me, you're that too. Ta Twam Asi.

Aakhon mein

Aankhon mein  
Kal raat se
Ek nami si hain...  

Lagta hain 
Aaj phir 
Aapki kami hain.

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Aisa kyu hota hain
kii koi anjaana hii hume apnaata hain
Aur koi apna hii hume rulaata hain?

Iss khayal mein dil thoda aur ghabrata hain 
Kii kaun paraya hua, kaun anjaana hain.

Lost or found

You came to me like an unexpected downpour in a desert. 
You came to me like the long-awaited train at a godforsaken station. 
You came to me like a burning meteorite.
You came to me like that final whiff of breath that extinguishes an eternal flame.

Is this that phase in life when nothing does justice to this feeling called love?
Is this that turn in life when you unlearn the past?
Is this that fork in the road where you take the lonely, unbeaten path? Yet again?  
Is this that phase in life when words do come to me but none suffice?

• When words come and play with my mind?  
• When words can't steal the show anymore?  
• When I can't just write anymore?

You've come and made me forget pain. 
You've ceased its existence in my life.

And so when pain ceases to exist, have I lost or found myself?  
In you?

For now

For now, the mind is still.
She's at her favorite temple.

For now, the panchavadyam is in rhythm.
The God is awakening.

For now, the heart is in love. 
A lot happened yesternight.

For now, the world is waiting.
The Brahmakamal is blossoming. 

For now, the soul is at peace.
She's in love with me.

Untitled, once more!

Once, there lived a man.
And yes, there survived a
Woman too.

And as all fairytales go,
He fell in love
With her.

And he loved her
So much…
So much…
That he began to die.

And she loved him too
So much…
So much…
That she began to live.

Or, once more

I feel like coming back into your life and falling in love with you again; you're that good. 

Yeah. 

But this time, we meet in a second-hand bookstore. Amidst the fragrance that old books and memories and titles and authors and poets carry... And I already have a dog... who wags his tail upon seeing you and then, I know that you're the one because my dog never loved a stranger before.

Or, you've become this last burning lamp in a stormy night in an ancient temple... 

Or, you're the one who comes to protect the flame, I see your face and I fall in love with you once again...

Or, you're this co-passenger in a random bus to somewhere and we're both lost together after we get down at the same stop. We discover our destination and along the way, also discover love and each other...

Or, I meet you at this village fair where we meet and talk about warli art...

Or, I walk into a painting exhibition of a lesser known painter and there are very few people there. The painter's shy and elusive. I walk up to her and talk about her paintings and her underlying themes and motifs; she knows that I am the one. The painter's you.

So many ways I want to fall in love with you. Once more...

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She sings, he writes, she draws, he writes, she cooks, he tries, she kisses, he tries, she writes, he writes, she is wild, he's wilder... 

She talks and he's all ears. 

Love blossoms every day as the clock strikes 10 in 10 different ways... When she's at the height of happiness, she'll look around for me to share her joy. And when she's sad, I'll be there around her... And she'll be engulfed in my arms and sorrow will leave her side because when we're together, there's no place for anything else between us.

Dare to share

No inhibitions.
No shame. 
No secrets. 
No stories. 
No events. 
No details. 
No fear. 
No worries. 

None left to share.

Only hopes.
Only dreams.
Only future. 
Only days and nights.
Only calls. 
Only calling.
Only wishes.
Only journeys and pilgrimages.

Only us. 
Only love.
Only life.

Only left to share.

Come to me, my darling, let me take care.
Question is, will you dare?

Kaash...

A shooting star.
An orgasm.
A chance encounter.
The silence between two pauses.
A call from a forgotten friend.
A helping hand from a stranger.
A hug from a dog. 
An evening of ghazals filled with her thoughts.
Missing your twin daughters.
Sitting inside Virupaksha.
Starting on a pilgrimage.
Day-dreaming.
Being lost in her. 
Listening to her song.
Dancing salsa with her.
Relishing mother's food.
Goodnight kisses from her.
Sharing your innermost secret with her.
Her head on your chest, her hands on your shoulders.

Once more?

On a tangent

I write on you and you read it. 

The cycle is complete. 

Other readers are incidental!

Now, if you stop reading, 

My words will go off on a tangent...

And they'll be incidental!

Just numbers...

I could chant 1008 names of the Lord but they may not be enough for Him to grant me my wish.

I could travel 500 miles to be with you for a moment or two but those moments may not be enough for you to wish for me.

I could write 100 greeting cards in your love but my cards may not be enough to make you smile.

I could climb the seven peaks but that may not be enough practice to climb your peaks of love.

I could write four quartets on you but four may not be enough to sweep you off your feet.

I could watch the Before trilogy with my head on your lap but that may not be enough for you to understand our love.

I could grant you two boons but that may not grant me a life with you.

I could gift this one life to you but it may not be enough for you to fall in love with me once more.

So...

You've been

You've been my longest call. 
You've been my greatest calling.

You've been that fragrance I never followed. 
You've been that tune I was afraid to sing.

You've been that hand I was waiting for.
You've been the muse that I need, I want, and I desire. 

You've been my greatest masterpiece.
You've been my north star. 

You've been my guide when my compass broke.
You've been that port I never set my foot on.

Till now, I've been sailing many seas...
Anchoring myself at many ports...
While trading goods and hearts alike.

I'm coming home with a loaded cargo and an empty hull.
Will you become my final resting place? My Alang?

Magic

In heaven, the gods have gathered around a round table. They're playing dice. One of the gods drop a King of Hearts; the next one drops a Queen of Hearts. 

On earth, meanwhile, he talks to her. She too talks to him. They talk for seven days and seven nights. All through those seven days and nights.

On the eighth day, the gods rest. 

On the eighth day, she reciprocates his love. He kisses her but she doesn't. She holds back. That night, they sleep well.  

The gods come back to their round table. They pick up the cards from where they had left it earlier and they're astonished to see that all the cards have changed to King of Hearts and Queen of Hearts now!  

The two twin souls laugh as they share their sorrows. They cry as they share their happiness.

In divine happiness, Indra fires his vajra towards the earth. 

As it rains, the two rainmakers realize that this is it.
 
Magic, the gods whisper to one another.

I love you, they whisper to each other.

Schizophrenic love

In this schizophrenic world between the poet and the lover inside me, you're the only constant reality. They know you and they love you.

All he's doing is watch over it. He's protecting his unfulfilled but deeply satisfied love from the poet and the lover for this mere mortal man has never loved more.

And yes, he's always let go of you for the poet, the lover, and other men of yore... But this time, he's kept a part of you imprisoned but free deep inside a lonely, ivory tower of his mind.

Who's he?

You, everywhere

I see you everywhere.
In a black car speeding towards me. 
In tiny Molly fishes and doghouses.

You're that kind of beauty that I see no fishes 
But only your reflection on an aquarium glass.

I see you everywhere.
In a bus journey at night.
On an Activa speeding away or parked in a driveway.

You're that kind of breeze that satisfies me here
Even when blowing far across the night skies through coconut trees towards the sea.

I see you everywhere.
In contagious, echoed laughter and cocka-doodle-doos.
In a barking dog or three!

You're that kind of art 
Waiting to be hung as paintings on bare nails on bedroom walls.

I see you everywhere.
In a long train journey towards nowhere in particular.
In my next pilgrimage to Thiruvannamalai.

You're that kind of child-woman, who sings Aaj jaane kii zidd na karo,
Cuddled along with soft baby elephants and bears on a bed. 

I see you everywhere.
In every mantra I chant.
In every word I type on a godforsaken blog.

For you're that kind of river goddess, my nymph,
Who makes a gandharva out of a mere mortal.