Walks of life

As I walk, I see.

Moth-eaten curtains. 
Cobwebbed balconies. 
Twin girls in similar colored dresses.

Splashes in the pool.
The evaporating Jakkur lake beyond.
The pregnant lady on the phone speaking to her beloved.

The setting sun.
The long shadows gets longer. Playing hide and seek.
A motor car swerves by my side and parks itself.

Azure skies turn purple.
Few children scream, run, and hide around.
With each passing round.

She walks afar as we talk.

Secrets, giggles, observations, gossips.
Friendships, events, fears, loves.
Missed calls and calls missed.

And amidst the humidity and heat,
Kisses, and sweet nothings.
I circumambulate her.

Baggage

There are pauses between their talks now. Some silences that speak unspoken words that convey few fears. 

He reads the book, Ishmael, her first gift to him. He looks at her picture. He smiles.

She paints Shiva in a thousand different ways as only she can. In between their talks and her paintings, there are brushstrokes of assurances. There are a thousand wishes waiting to be painted and sketched and written upon.

Two lives, awaiting a common destination on the same journey, are waiting in this waiting room. Soon, they hear a whistle of an approaching train.  

They get up and hold hands; she lifts his baggage while he carries her's. They're ready.

Us in ether

The hill has a certain kind of magic, a mysterious potency that can convince the strictest of skeptics.

Climbing up to Virupaksha and Skandashramam always had a certain significance to me that I can never capture in words. But this time, it was special, as our walk was the shortest ever. Holding her hands made it seem as if time stood still and space made way for us to reach there. 

Though we were huffing and panting all the way, when we reached there tears of joy and bliss came from our eyes as our combined love for Shiva just overwhelmed us. 

Even before that, I saw tears streaming down her eyes every time she was at Ramana's samadhi and more so, at the old meditation hall. And when her tears rolled down, I went into a trance. In that trance, we were in union. A holy communion of sorts. The kind I used to seek always and never got. 

Our first pilgrimage convinced us that this is just the beginning... 
Of a lifelong pilgrimage together. 
Of a lifelong quest of seeking and becoming one without the other. 
Of creating our own myths and legends out of our own love story. 
Of discovering and reading books together. 
Of walking a path of love that consumes itself. 
Of life crafting our love for each other through air, earth, fire, and earth and preserving it in ether.

Nothing else matters

A sense of space and time. 
I occupy in our brief lifespan on planet Earth. 
I move places and time changes. 
Or, times change and I move places.

Far ago, had discovered the Titan 
Through long lost Venus' telescope...
And I had begun to realize 
My space and time
Across multiple dimensions.

Meanwhile, suns rise and suns set.
Moons rise and moons set.
Somethings never change while changing.

And then I smile 
Because I know
In this vast time-space continuum, 
Am just a third dimension of love.