Saturday, May 18, 2019

Rebus

Miss those days
When people texted more than
Yes, No, ok, and what?
Sent meaningful long sentences,
Properly capitalised, spelt
(For the Purists only) 
And spaced meaningfully

There were friends
Who could match wit with wit
Anger with anger
Repartee with repartee
All in matter of seconds when
SMS Alerts were from people
Not spam sent from machines.

Miss those days
When people texted in words
Sent invites, reminders
Missing U msgs not just in rebus
like "need2seeu2moro" but
"I missed you a lot today, my dear
and want to see you tomorrow".
Near the white magnolias, of course. 

One fine day


















Were there expectations in your eager mind
As how exactly it is going to be like in real,
With you and me meeting each other to find
What the years have not taken away or heal.

Didn't your heart beat as loud as mine today
When walking down the street you saw me.
Not like in the days of beautiful togetherness
But like a pleasant surprise hard to contain.

For me, I saw you only for a few moments
But enough to keep counting even the time,
My face that cannot hide what it feels like
Or my words that might reveal what I want.

One fine day, this might become so unreal
This longing to have you beside me a lifetime.

Perfect Match


How long have we belonged to only to each other?
That day since we took a quiet walk of togetherness,
Though it is as though we have always belonged
To each other across the ages in a sacred sense.

Coffee kisses, pasta lunches, candlelit dinners,
Shared moments of togetherness well-cherished
The perfect wine that we tasted last and so deep,
Not first love nor the first riot of purple passions.

There might have been others before you and me
Countless love-stories that taught us heartbreaks;
The many roles that you and I played across lives,
The sense of having known each other all along.

But I do remember us walking around the holy fire
Quietly chanting mantras of eternal togetherness.

#deepveer

Mehndi




Every time I put henna on my hands I hum that song
Where I write your name on the palm of my hand,
Hidden in the intricate shapes, curves and designs
The story of the day we met or the day we spoke.

We have walked countless times around the fire
We have uttered so many different sacred chants
Of holding a bond so close just by keeping it safe
Deeply tied to the sense of our sacred silences.

We have celebrated in rhymes, absences felt,
The emotions that run wild and the colours
We have sang of the endless days we wandered
Listlessly, aimlessly and perfectly in silence.

Yet when I put mehndi on these hands of mine,
You smell them, as if it’s our first time together.

Friday, May 17, 2019

The Wanderer





 

This heart has been a wanderer who loves to ramble and find ways where none existed before. It never understands the wisdom of other’s words nor can it choose anything other than what it wants for itself. Sometimes, it creates raging fires in places where a soft little word would have done.

Not that there were no mazes in the olden days. There were many that it burnt down or flew past, though not with a victorious smile or swelling pride but with quiet equanimity; it didn’t have much left behind to boast of.

For years, it has searched for beauty in all places- in the serenity of nature, in the spontaneity of a child’s smile, or in the most beautiful thoughts where it has always dwelt. It has often wandered in the serenest places on earth, where it took in with amazement, the feeling of being so minute in a huge beautiful world. Sometimes, it has wandered alone, partly to its dismay and partly to create a pride in solitude. There were also times, when in another wanderer’s eyes, it read solace, warmth and strange delight.

A new strength came from a kindred spirit in whose eyes, the world was made anew or paths made merrier with zesty songs and bright sunshine. With a soulmate, an anam cara, it has often dreamt of wandering again through the same mazes differently.Though there might be new invites from around, the cascading waterfalls, the beautiful mountain-tops, the endless beaches or beautiful fields of green delight, it needs a soul friend to listen to its endless amazement.

Though there might not be many words and many hurdles to jump over, this heart still wants to watch the stars fade away all along with its soul companion.Often it dreams of flights across all its mazes just to find solace in the comfort of a friend and at times, it feels that the time has passed and the magic gone. Despite of constant mistakes while wandering, it seeks within itself an answer, to wait patiently for its dream to come back again.

May be this heart would hum a new song or dance a new dance, a never-seen wonder of rejoice when it comes home, all safe in the arms of its soul friend. Till that day, this wanderer searches on weary faces a semblance of its dream, feels down when it finds nothing common and ends every journey with heavy feet and grim thoughts. Yet, with a spring of delight it waits on every corner just to see what surprise life holds in its sudden trips and turns, turning a deaf ear to the noises that are around it the whole time. 





Wanderlust


For a heart like this full of love for wandering in the serenest places on earth, each and every picture of natural beauty is an invite. The cascading waterfalls that astonish, the beautiful mountain-tops, the endless beaches and patches of green everywhere.

May be on a day like this, looking at this beautiful earth, I may not write a word but only sigh and think; for what to write about a work of art that is more beautiful than any word can describe. Yet I sit at home and dream of visiting all these wonderlands after looking at their pictures.

It might happen that one fine day, I will be able to wander as long as I please and as far as I please. But right now, the travels occur in dreams that carry me to these imagined places of delight.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

Mom



All I wanted was a book of recipes like yours
Like the one you kept like a hidden treasure,
On special occasions, you'd leave the kitchen
Smelling of spices, roast chicken and plum cake.

The wild shopping spree just before Christmas,
The cake-mixing at midnight done together,
The written recipes followed to the last line
The spontaneous tweaks to the plans that I make.

This book of magic is abandoned after this loss,
Though the Christmas flavours linger in the air,
Goodwill, happiness and merriment-the first time
I had celebrated Christmas with flavours at home.

The secret recipes, the love of wine and laughter
All are lessons that I have learnt from you, mom.

Rebus

Miss those days When people texted more than Yes, No, ok, and what? Sent meaningful long sentences, Properly capitalised, spelt (For t...