Worst Fear?

I’ve seen heaven

And hell too

They both exist

On earth

Just like you do

Ek Garam Chai ki Pyaali

Bachpan se hi mere liye ek cup chai ka matlab sirf ek cup chai se nahi tha. Usse kuch bohot badhkar tha. Kyunki chai ki har pyaali mein chupa hota tha Ma ka pyaar aur Papa ka dulaar. Thodi thandi hote hote usme bhaiya ki meethi takraar bhi simat jaati thi.

Aaj mai un sab se duur “apne” ghar mein hu. Par yahan bhi apnepan ka ehsaas to ek cup chai se hi milta hai – jo roz subah uthte hi pati apne haath se banakar pilaata hai. Aur aapko ek mazze ki baat batau? Usko khud chai pasand nahi hai.

I promise

The thing about promises is that you can

Make them, break them, hold them and steal them

They can be pulled in any and every direction

And yet

The promise of a promise

Is the sweetest hope

And on some days

A promise of tomorrow

Is what keeps us going

Downswing creations

Putting pen to paper is sometimes as easy as breathing, and sometimes an insurmountable task. Days when the ink flows automatically and thoughts lend themselves to being told are the most peaceful ones in my experience. On the other hand, there are also days when every thought spirals, every sorrow snowballs, every tear demands to be shed and the pen, oh the pen just refuses to cooperate! On such days, I believe, it’s better to put poetry aside and create art instead. Why? Because the thing about art is that it’s never ugly or beautiful. It exists and that’s all there is to it.

Strawberries

Is it strawberry picking season yet?

Asking for a friend, really,

Who likes her sweets with a hint of sourness

With whipped cream or chocolates that’ve got a little bit of darkness

Ripe red

Juicy insides

Pancakes

And ice creams besides

You’ll let me know when it’s time for strawberry picking, right?

I’ll hold on till then.

The End of the World?

I was always scared of following someone to the end of the world. Until I realised, they don’t mean the literal world, they mean what the world means for the follower – they follow the one they love, their entire world, till the end of the world as they know it. Since I’ve come to this realisation, I’ve become even more scared of following someone to the end of my world for the fear of falling off the edge.

Surajmukhi

You can have the rose

With all its redness and thorns

The sunflower is mine, anyway

It will look for me and bloom afresh

Each day, every day

Reality Check

June has always been a little bit of a conundrum for me. It brings with it the promise of a vacation under sunny skies, but with a pang of fear for leaving everything behind. Just like the washed away sand on the beaches I like to visit.

June marks the middle of another year and I can never tell if I’ve done just enough to be able to relax now and justify it as a good year, or if I’m just getting started.

June has a way of breaking past all the barriers I’ve constructed and ridding me of all disillusions. For June always is what it is, and never what it ought to be.

I step out and it’s April

April for me is a month of uncertainty. The weather’s oscillation between hot and cold keeps me up more than half the night. The sun is warm and the breeze is pleasant. The days are equal parts energising and draining. But when I step out and notice how blue the blue of the skies is, how green the green of the leaves is and how brightly coloured is all of nature, I realise the true splendour of April. It blooms and nurtures. It revitalises and nourishes. April is Mama Earth’s way of readying us for a beautiful year ahead.

The Anatomy of Love: Deduction by Elimination

This isn’t a diary entry

Or a note to self

This isn’t a gentle reminder

Or a long pending due date

This isn’t a call to action

Or all hands on deck

This isn’t a line item on the agenda

Or a tabled debate

This is neither prose nor poetry

Nor an anecdote seeped in history

This is neither a memory

Nor a well rounded theory

This is neither a dissertation

Nor a repressed emotion

This is it

This is all

This is what was

And also what will be

This is the question

And the answer

The only one there’ll ever be

This is

This is

A funny little thing called love