Goodbye, 2013

Someday

I will look at the scars

and run my fingers over them

they wouldn't hurt -

dried and just a flesh memory

of a gone-by ache.

Someday

I will meet on the streets

strangers with carts

selling my memories.

I would probably

buy a couple of glass jars

for a laugh

Someday 

on a winter's night

while rubbing my toes

A song will wriggle in

through the crack at the door - 

I will smile without tears

Someday

I will thank you for what has been - 

an year of darkness and fears - 

without a shudder

and whisper into your ears,

"You made me grow"

Today, however, 

with all delight, 

all the happiness I can gather 

between two shivering palms, 

I bid you farewell!

Do not turn back,

Not now, not yet!

Keep walking,

and let peace come instead.

Everyday Writing: 24

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The solace of words often goes unnoticed. Would those dark nights have passed had it not been words sung to tune becoming an earworm? Or would those bleary mornings have become bearable without words helping beat its retreat?
And how we belittle words- we always assume other 'bigger issues' plague us. 
The simplest of things are the most misunderstood. 
*one of those wistful days*

Everyday Writing: An ode to a cup of water

No one talks 

about a plain cup of water

ignored it stands

in the illustrious company

of bottles of imported liquor

fancy concoctions of coffee

many cuttings of chai 

and other beverages of lore

what becomes of this loner?

its humble nonchalance

easily letting it get ignored!

And so for the underdog

that simple lonesome cup of water,

here, I lay down by its

glistening clear self

this little piece of verse 

(The above is a work of dullness, hyperactive imagination, analysis and a fierce loyalty towards the underdog, the losers and the forgotten creed of the nice people!)

Lemongrass!

It was the smell of the Oriental Manuscript Library where my aunt used to work. As a child I have been there a few times, fascinated by tiny illegible scrawls on nearly crumbling Palmyra leaves. And the scent was of lemongrass. I have forgotten what scrolls I held in my tiny hands. But the smell never left me.

Many years later, when I was eating for a living and trying Thai cuisine for the first time, I encountered the fragrance again. In a small pot of tea, pale green in colour and poured into my dainty teacup, I had my tryst with lemongrass. And it made me happy, and I realized that memory is a lovely thing too, sometimes!

:)

Fear

Fear leaves you naked
And suddenly you see
Those scars that
clothes kept from view
Shampoos and foaming bath gels
Tried to wash away
Concealers and blushes
Did a good job in hiding

Dents, bumps and excess hair
Stinks and smells and
Stench of madness
Suddenly you are not you
But some downsized
Stinking beast with vile thoughts
Unbound fears
Ungrounded manias

Hyperventilating into paper bags
Temporary reprieve
To a pre-natal problem
Birth not cleansing
This teeming insecurity
Instead flaring the fire
Of a nagging question
“Am I enough to be me?”

Metamorphosis

There is always a breaking point, a boiling point- a point of transformation after which something ceases to be what it was. Over time, it may have looked unchanging. But one must remember that it has been simmering, crumbling within. Never flirt with that point. What happens after is a metamorphosis you may not like!

Before Sunrise | Before Sunset | Before Midnight

I watch it over and again

They fell in love talking!

I want to gush

Spiral into a dream world

Like a stupid little girl

Stuck to her film-tinted romance

And a fairy tales ruined reality.

I watch it over and again 

They meet again and keep talking 

As if nine years had been but a breath

And time had stood vigil to love

Like a silly young thing

I want to believe in miracles!

A voice sniggers and I wake up!

I watch it over and again

Nine years and together

Shared memories and love

Questions yet

And I hear within-

It is all a mirage

But you can make your oasis

And choose to stay.

And I fall in love with love!

(Thank you Linklater! :) )