Poem 55#



I dont wanna write anymore,
Was this destined in my palm too?
My palm has so many broken lines,
Reminds me of the geometry figure I couldn’t draw even after multiple trials,
Alas in the end, the creased paper had multiple broken lines, they were invisible to the naked eye,
But for me, I could see, my failure tangled like the spiders web.
And oh my maths teacher, she often gave me a zero out of 25.

I don’t enjoy my daily coffee too,
It tastes bland, maybe 3 tsp isnt strong?
Maa tells me this coffee is making me senile,
Or maybe it’s your phone, that’s making you mad! She says.
Maybe she is right,
I’m stuck with this phone like the lover to its rose,
It’s the first thing I have in my hand and the last thing I check before I sleep.

How much are you sleeping nowadays shibu!? Maa questions me for the millionth time,
Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?? I nodd, but she walks away
I dont sleep, really, just lie down on my unmade bed, lie with my warm blanket shielding me away from the ghosts of the past,
But they find an abode through the space I leave off below my cold feet,

Did I do enough today? I question myself
But all I hear is the last local honking in the background,
There is no sign of moon today,
I see a bat hanging upside down the almond tree infront of my window pane,
He swings so peacefully and silently rests by the other birds who usually attack him in day.

Bhai then blabbers in his sleep,
Something about his work, how he has to reach the intended goal for the month,
He then nods his head and tilts to other side of the bed,

Shibu dont you wanna sleep?” Dad’s hoarse voice alerts me away,

Yes, i will now”  the cold floor really feels weird during winter days,
With a quick look at the grey skies, I escalate towards my bed.

Goodnight dad” I mumble,

He ignores my words, as he sits by the window pane.

Lust and love ( edited version)

**Lusty lies, beautiful smiles**

You’d find an abode in those tempestuous eyes,
those oh so perfect smiles, everything they do just seems so vague yet perfectly fine,

Some call it that wish for which they often prayed,
Oh! Look my wish was granted away.
I found the one, my happy place.

But for some pessimists like me,
Lust works like the poison that freezes the tarantula away,
Have you heard about that naive wasp that preys on those gloomy tarantulas by the bay?
This gloomy spider means it no harm, it runs away from the shadow of wasp,
But the wasp has her eyes fixed on its prey,
Her poisonous sting, paralyzes the spider away,
It cant think, nor move, it’s the wasp’s personal play.

Lust works on similar ways,
You’re paralyzed by their beauty and their face,
By their expressive eyes, their notorious self,
They are so brilliant in everything they do,
How could a person relaxing in his pajamas and unmade hair look so cute?

Being with them would make you forget everything else in life,
You’d read articles related to them talk to your friends and ask them for their views,
Take his side and convince your friends too,
You’d slowly start adapting his ways, so quick,
You’d expect the same energy from him too.

Every time you’d meet him,you would observe him a bit more closely,
The way he talks so calmly, the way he folds his arms together and gently frowns, the way he runs his fingers alongside his hair,
The way his hazel eyes shine with glee,
His peculiar beard trimmed in 90’s style.

His presence would make your day,
you’d ache to be in his arms
and wish to kiss him once again, you’d plan your next meet,
the things you’d say,
the dress you’d wear, the way you’d make your hair,
his favourite color would be yours too,everything should be perfect, for our adonis is just that way.

You’d fnd different ways to text him
(or accidentally text him? :p)
send him memes, flood him with questions new,
would expect his attention right away,
what if he forgets to text you day? Was he busy? Is he seeing someone new?
Let’s watch his story on Instagram or maybe snapchat today??

Lust and love ( part 1)

Lust is like that warm orange singlet top that makes me feel great,

I wear it during times I feel bold or wish to have some fun at my own stake,

Its quite new, still has that ambiguous David off cool water smell,

But love is that rouge pink tshirt of mine, which makes me feel cozy and warm,

I wear it on stormy days and wintry nights, it has accompanied me since the past 3 years,

No matter much I wash it away, it still makes me feel safe.


I am no master in love, I’d say, havent experienced it at all,

But lust? The desireful eyes, those oh so perfect smiles, my poetries revolve around those tales.

Maybe lust is what we confuse for love nowadays,

Their glistening eyes seem lovely to you,you’d catch them checking you out, they smile off and find different ways to accidentally touch you,

They’d tease you and make you laugh, their jokes would be so funny you’d laugh your eyes out, you’ve never felt this happy ever in life,

The way the talk the way he folds his arms together and gently frowns, the way he runs his fingers alongside his hair would make the butterflies in your stomach reach ashore,

His presence would make your day, you’d ache to be in his arms and wish to kiss him once again, you’d plan your next meet, the things you’d say, the things he’d end up doing,oh, everything should be perfect that way, for our adonis is just that way.

You’d fnd different ways to text him, ( or accidentally text him or call him either ways) send him memes, flood him with questions new, would expectt his attention right away, what if he forgets to text you day? Was he busy? Is he seeing someone new today? Let’s stalk him on insta or maybe snapchat today??

And every time you’d meet them, you’d feel jittery, it would be the first time again, you’d feel jittery, you’d get dumbfounded, act nervously and fumble on your own words,

For hey, they seem so perfect( to you) dont they?

Could they be the one?

To the incomplete feelings of mine,

-August 2020.

The paradoxical one.

She is unsure and uncertain in life, she wants a few things, yet doesnt want them too. She would initiate the conversation then feel it losing it’s sight and in time with her lack of effort, it’ll die.

For she knows they’d have many others whom they would talk to, she’d assume small things and get nervous all the time, “why did you type the Okay ♥️ as ok, / okay / k/ this time?”The others she wonders about the tone of their text and replies, “were they in a hurry or did they wish to talk to me after a while?”

“Why didn’t they use their regular emoji, or are they done with her hopeless plight?”

She deletes messages quite often too,for her anxiety tells her it sounds too rude or maybe not right, what if they feel bad? What if they read in between the lines? They cant see her vulnerable side.

Sudden calls from strangers scare her to death,do they expect a specific reply? Is hmm and haan and okay and yeah, fine? What if they feel she is not contributing to the conversation at all,her heart comes to her mouth, she feels like 1 year old, she babbles or mumbles or at times is inaudiblely loud.

At times,she is sure of her mind, sure of the things she has to say and feels about the people around, yes doubts and fear cross her mind, but her heart comes to resuce those times.

The others, her heart plays tricks on her mind, for it doesn’t understand the difference between infatuation or lust, confuses it with love and keeps her awake all night.

Yes she overthinks, she has scales of measurement for this overthinking too, a bit done every now and then seems fine, she takes overthinking breaks in between her day, thinks about the topic from all the sides and even tho the stimulus is out of her sight it still revolves in her mind.

Is it yes or was it no?”

She dislikes the term in between and people giving her ambiguous hues. She likes weird and confusing things for sure,

The puzzle the daily crossword, the sudoku hurl, the Rubik’s cube, confusing it may be for others but she’d try all the combinations and solve it overnight, and if not, then mess up the code and add more sequences to her plight.

At times she is nervous and shy,like the naive Caterpillar that transforms into a beautiful butterfly, she is oh so cautious and alert of her moves, never to harm a soul and usually complies.

The others she is bold and scary they say, like the moth, that’s as dark as the ruinous sky, you’d shoo her off, so that she doesn’t ruin your cashmere shawl overnight,

She’s reckless and wild, is attracted to dangerous people who often hurt her or leave her in the absence of light, is attracted to the feral fire that could burn her core, yet she wishes to go near it, to warm her numb soul.

…..

Life for her is a puzzle,

one cannot fathom right away

It is never truly black nor white,

At times it’s blue and purple, red and grey,

So arrange every piece that comes your way,

And that’s how she lives her life, everyday.

Of open blue skies and bombay vada pavs.

Dadi wore saree her entire life,
Green, blue, yellow and red, were amongst some of her favourite shades
This was her favourite too.

She never liked disobedience from my side,
Her grim voice, usually woke me up for school,
“Shibu get up, don’t you wanna go to school, it’s already 9
Even tho, it was always six that time.

She was obsessed with red, shiny, golden things,
A married woman, must wear all the three reds!
Red bindi, bangles and her red kumkum, shinning from her hair!

“A girl is expected to do whatever the man says, shibu”
But why does he get to decide what I wanna do dadi?’

Her eyes would then pop out and stare at me in disbelief.

‘You have your father’s temper and his mouth too,
You blurt out things without thinking at all,
You’re like the pressure cooker, who’s whistle is lost.

‘Your grandfather’s sarcasm comes to you in phase’ she’d say
You’re like the green chilli in bhindi or palak,
That one blindly eats and then regrets, for it burns their tongue away!

Dadi and I often had many fights,
“Your husband would never like a girl, who’s this arrogant
And this rude, he’d leave you the second you meet!

I’d end up skipping dinner everytime we would fight,
But later she’d come with a plate of food:
”how would you fight me, if you don’t eat tonight?”
—–
Did you ever try to study?
I had once asked her,
She was peeling the peas off, meticulously she removed their skin,
Her button eyes, glared at me for sometime,
But she scoffed at my question and threw the skin away.

There were days, she loved me too,
When I’d help her in household chores,
Or take her up to our terrace for a short walk.

Do you know where the clouds disappear?
Or how the birds just fly around, shibu?

I never quite had any answers for her naive questions,
But I often saw her smile widely
her cheeks, they shined
Every Time she saw the open blue sky.

She was a fan of Bombay vada pavs,
Sasural Genda phool and other bollywood songs.
She loved watching food video’s,
Namak samak chef, was her favourite too.

This one time, she caught the flu,
She didn’t agree to take medicines,
Just get 2 vadapavs, they must be frying them now! I can smell them from above
Tell him to add extra green chutney too!

She would then share half the vada pav with me,
“Why don’t you eat the entire thing”, I’d say as I would hogg on the half she’d give me.
“Why do you always share it with me?
I thought you hate me?”
Because the vada pav tastes better when I give you the other half, you silly girl!

—————————————————————————————————

Poem 53#

Does your heart ever beat aloud, when my name pops on your screen?

Does your face heat up, or do your lips start to smile?

Do you ever look up at the sky and gaze at the moon sometimes?

Remember our previous conversations and way you hugged me, tight?

Do my thoughts ever cross your mind,

Whenever you’re busy at work, trying to study, or sleep at night?

Do you even remember the words you said before you first kissed me,

Or way you smiled so bright?


I wouldn’t know, anymore.

But,

I do know you’re searching for a girl who’d fit into your world.

Who is different than the others, you’ve met,
Someone who adds value to your life, understands you.
Doesnt expect you to be perfect,
Rather, accepts your various hues.

Doesn’t give up on you, when you push her aside,
Who keeps texting you, even though you hardly reply,
Who is always loyal to you, honest and never lies.

You’re a man of few words,
You pretend to listen and hardly reply,
But expect others to listen to you,
but do you comply?

You welcome people, but never let them in,
You know their secrets, hardly share your worries, at times lie.
When confronted, you dive in your cave, you sigh.

You overthink, overanalyze, but keep mum, in your agony, you die.
But tell others that overthinking isn’t right

You have peculiar moods, one in which you wish to be left alone,
One in which you’re no longer the gloomy soul, you’re cheerful,
full of life,
Alas it doesn’t last that while,
And finally the one,in which, your mood, monosyllables provide.


But there’s this void, this tiny black hole,

That exists within you, in your heart,

That is masked by your smile,

One that I can see in your eyes.

What if it forever resides?

Poem 52#

He’s here, but he’s truly not,

I don’t recognize him,

In fact I never have and never will,

He babbles and abuses too,

His eyes, don’t see what we see,

It sees a world that keeps opressing him,

His mouth becomes a flame of lies,

Of pain and hurt,

betrayal and crimes,

His past surfaces in and he becomes the same old boy

With khaki shorts and torn shirt,

With worn chappals and lost eyes

Who’s father beat him, to hide his lies,

To hide his affair with the woman he loved,

Who wasn’t his wife.

It all comes back to him, at times in episodes too.

He remembers the time his purple hand was beaten black,

The times his father thrashed him

Left him away and ignored his plight.

But oh he forgets the time he left us away,

Instead,

Says I am a burden,

And my siblings are no longer his children too.

He slurrs and slips,

Fumbles on his own failures, oh he falls.

And when his tired eyes and calloused feet hurt a lot,

He crashes his stout body on the defeated old bed,

Mumbbles a “I hate you, you’re no longer my child’

And goes back to sleep, soundly, every night.