Dedication to my king

You wanted a book dedicated to you, my dear.  I could write many a story of you and me, words and silence, music and love, rain and summer.

You are a sacred space that I have never left; a home that keeps me grounded to the world of dreams, though some are lost and some found again. For I’m like the proverbial woman who lost a valuable coin and has found it again after thorough searching.

You have a bowl full of colours that fetch you happiness every day; while I keep mine clean and empty for an impulsive act of alms from you. Someday, you might give me a little from the lot you have, just to keep me from starving.

The clouds still heave and burst into tears, every now and then. Years have gone by; still you are special, by the way you brought back music to me; for I’d never forget that one day, when you made me understand that I had forgotten how to sing.

Every day, from dawn to dusk, your name is like a talisman that I keep safe from the world, till words form one by one and fill these blank pages.

Near the green fields

Love

I have my ebbs
And my tides;
I change
My nature,
With the moon.
Yet my love
For you dearest
Comes back
In full circle

days of love

 

Loving was living precariously. When the morning light drained through the windows she opened her eyes. Slowly she became conscious of everything around her. Last night, she had fallen asleep crying. Now her heart was empty but soon thoughts of reasoning and doubt would cloud it again. It was a day she had dreaded all this time. Throughout all the happy days the shadow of this inevitable day was on her happiness, on their happiness.

 

Back from bath, she thought, this one day I can look like an unhappy broken-hearted girl and make him unhappy.  So she chose her brightest smile and her brightest clothes and put them on with care. He would be waiting for her at the usual place, with a smile. How will I hide my heart from him, her mind asked her. She walked to the usual place with a bowed down heart and a bright face.

 

From the first glance itself of her walking in that resplendent dress, he read through her veneer of cheerfulness easily. How to calm her, he thought. His heart wanted to protect her from everything, make her his, so that she would never have to face her troubles again. Yet he didn’t move at all and looked at her with the utmost attention.

 

As if to read his thoughts, she looked straight into his eyes, reading deep into his soul with her deep sad eyes. In that one single glance, much was said. Without even uttering a word, he understood that the end had begun and smiled like he expected it all along like a stoic warrior sentenced to death. She didn’t move but went on looking at him with the same calmness.

 

He moved his hand to touch her cheek. She twined his hand in hers and placed it against her cheek. Slowly a tear fell on his hand. Then more came while she sobbed aloud. Now he couldn’t bear all this distance. He leaned close to her and kissed her forehead. She smiled through her tears and rested her head against his chest. Hugging each other, they sat for long in silence.

 

When her tears ceased, she looked at him with a strange calmness and smiled. This smile was from heart where a strange silence took possession of her. When tears had purged the dross out of her mind and the emptiness in the heart was gone, what she felt was hope. Nothing could cast a shadow on their bliss again. As long as they lived, as long as death took one of them away, there was hope for them. An overwhelming love for him flowed in her heart. This time the sun set on one of the probable days of inevitability.

 

Good Fortune

Struggle

A silence, a longing, a struggle, 
To get back my balance, 
Lost and found, lost and found, 
Like my love for you
Hiding in my own heart
Surprising and attacking me,
Attacking my reason, 
To follow your steps
Like a faithful disciple
Which my heart is, 
But my reason isnt.
Whom should I heed?

You

Flow with the rivers
Fly with the kites
When you come back
You are the river
You are the kite 
No more you. 

Dreams

Your fingers haunt me,

Your lips taunt me,

Are you real or a dream?

Your voice melts me,

Though I hold my heart safe,

Am I really safe from you?

Your presence is in dreams,

In every face in the crowd,

In every voice I hear.

Invisible and stealthy,

You intrude upon my silences,

And leave an emptiness beside.

Awake from your dream,

I know you were here, near me,

From the sweetness on my lips.

Seasons

How can you live like this,
Anywhere but here in this moment,
Held together by a million voices,
Glueing your existence,
In a life that doesnt move,
Yet with plans that astonish,
And never fail to astonish,
With perfect names for baby faces,
In the right order, too perfect.

How could you make it more perfect,
When beneath the resounding words,
The intent is hollow and changing,
With the moon, with the seasons,
Before deities that dont reply,
An emptiness chanting promises,
Yet at a loss for words,
For that which matters most,
True, close to the core.

There lies silence and a spirit,
That expands in directions,
And grows inward and inward only,
Eyes blind to the future and past,
Not even this moment alive,
Just there, for another dawn.

In another dawn, when the sky is red,
The spirits may call each other to a tryst,
That never was or never will be made,
Consciously by you or me.

A WOMAN CALLED RAIN

Rain sobs, hysterical woman.

Bleeding and lonely,

Forbidden by rule.

Rain sobs, love-lorn,

For loss of fulfilment,

On the surge.

Rain sobs, bursting ovum,

For unborn babies,

And forgotten needs.

Claustrophobia

Voices whisper in the head
Claims of having bred, fed and loved,
While they have done nothing but bled,
Tied by an invisible umblical cord,
A noose on the neck, 
Bled, this poor heart, 
From its freedom instead,
And coming back speaking of
Duties having bred, fed and loved,
When it would have been better
To have left alone without any claims.

A Promise

You gave me a promise

To hold this hand forever,

Through thick and thin,

Come rain or sunshine.

 

From this heart comes

A promise of growing older,

Stronger and wiser with you,

Always at my side. 

mindfulness

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

The Corona Journal

I was just now going through my last year's diary and I noticed that unlike most of my previous years ( I have been journaling for years and is known to buy a save our trees every year methodically and start writing in it before 12 o'clock midnight), last year my entry begins on the day lockdown is declared and it is no coincidence that the diary chronicles many projects some very unsuccessful and some very successful like most of the lockdown journals. 

I think that it has it recipes of herbal cosmetics that one had to rely on because of declaration of lockdown to recipes of food items that one made taxing one's cleverness in creating simple followable steps. I heard of a recent DIY hair remover and was amazed at how open we have become to.mixing a few well-known ingredients rather than risk buying a hair removing cream or wax. The journal talks of momentary weightloss simply because of the nonavailabilty of meat and that of bakery items. It also wallows in self-pity after the failure of a microgreening program after reading a lot online. I think reading online makes you amazingly knowledgeable but amateurish about the DIY projects. 

The journal marks the demise of a well-organised worklife in July after lockdown is declared again and one learns how to take classes online. Though it speaks of the ennui of day to day life and later on the serious issues like blood pressure variations and memory lapses, it also celebrates some luxuries one had like long baths and detailed entries of everyday adventures in the field of films ( Because I teach film.studies I guess) and songs and books on kindle. While ageing is a process that shows on the bones and in one's nerves presently, I want to offer gratitude to wifi and for some small mercies that helps one survive the toughest of times.

There are also so many threads of stories that one has started with a perspective that is mature but lost interest after one finds it too intellectual and difficult to manage and ends up writing the same fairy  tale romances that one loves. Hope life gives more days to live a life that is worthy of writing about!

Eternal game

You and I were meant to meet; like two streams joining to form a force, entwined to travel through miles and miles to become invisible specks in the endless sea of eternity. But you and I were destined to struggle about identities, independence and possession- that make such a natural blending impossible. Like two opposites, fire and water, who cannot co-exist; we have become feuds in one eternal struggle for life. But this is enough for this life, for without being possessed, without following the rules of the world, this love has turned into a game that can played forever.

Love of my life

You are the best thing that happened to me though I didn't recognise it at that time. In the past, there were crossroads when one was left alone and this time, this heart manages to find a home in a heart where love beats in a language known to it. Though I fail to bring back our days in real, this love has become a fond and affectionate bond where we seek and find each other out with a hunger not known before or after. 

Love

I never say  I bring you only bouquets of joy,

Yellow flowers of sunshine and love.

Hidden beneath them may be flaws in me

Which may wound you and pierce your heart

Yet with the broken, tattered, torn, scarred flowers , 

Which call my soul, I bring you dreams

From the unknown land, where in the grass,

Little toes will step towards you with delight.

Perimenopause