I can’t tell you how much you mean to me,
Like the broken, yellow Neem leaf decaying in my backyard.
“Am I just a drying piece of dust-to-be?”, You might wonder.
Yes you are. And you were the tender golden brown that unfurled into a luscious green, foraging the ancient light of the ancestors, feeding the roots and branches and pushing the bud to bloom and help it condense the data of generations into the seed encapsulated in the pulp that feeds birds, and return what humans exhale for themselves to consume, like a duty. And here you are lying, withered of your duties into the palest autumn colour, among hundreds indifferent, yet so unique to kindle these words to sing praise of you. These words meant nothing before they were put together for you.
Category: Her
About you
Do you dream about me
The way I dream about you?
Like the kite in the night sky
Beyond the vision of the living
No tying attachments to reality
Like the curious little kitty
Engrossed in its ball of twine
As though it’s its whole own universe
Like the seeds of the Neem
Which find their way beyond its reach
By any means to move and grow
Like those stray streaks of light
That can’t wait for the skies to cry
To spread its arms so vibrant
Tell me sometimes
That you dream of me
For I’m lost and stranded
Of my own sense of self
When I’m dreaming about you.
Out of order
I thought things would be as it were. Nothing much would change in this world of mine. But on a dull misty morning I sensed the changes had already set in action a while ago and I’m just catching up with the after effects. The sun was red as it were in the sky last week I saw. But the sky had lost its lustre. The blue of it kind of seemed faded away like it somehow escaped at a different angle from the prism than it naturally does and escaped. It was all grey today, a graduating grey between the pits of the moon to the one in our neighbours cat. I didn’t let it bother me though. Things seem out of place sometimes. The butterflies that migrate this season, traveling south for warmer places felt normal. Until this one which broke the flow by flying north. Must be a lonely anarchist I thought. Then there were few more. An awful lot of dragonflies today. That’s quite natural this season you might say. May be. But the point is, if you listen to their wings flutter long enough, their uneasiness creep in like the shadow that follows in day light. Sticking to soul darkness lurches. Never pay attention to them, I tell myself. But I think you can already sense the anxiety set in. The crabs took too much time to peek out today. I didn’t wait up for them. This isn’t my setting, I need to get away, I thought. Then I see the waning moon still lingering on the sky. I couldn’t find a reason for the moon to lurk around that long, like it had no where else to be. I know it has been that way, but not today in my thoughts. Even the pigeons flew in a fashion unfathomable to this simple mind this morning. Their flow has been obstructed and they landed like an orchestra out tune. Whom to blame here, the conductor or the musician. An unnecessary chaos had set the whole wind loopy and it seemed to have affected the pigeons as well. I couldn’t bear. Everything’s is set loose. Like the chain that bound my heart, together. No, it wasn’t bound to the chains but only bound by it. You’ll understand when I state how it grew in size once it was set loose. Cramped all these days, it inflates and intumesce into all the spaces it could find in the cavity. It kept growing, crushing my lungs now, squeezing the air out. I’m unable to catch this breath, this air doesn’t seem to pass down this track. I crumble in these sands with this step I take. Please touch the wind and cure it off the illness it carries and set this world in order. It’s been a little chaotic.
If I tell you my dreams, would it matter?
There were days where I would wish to at least dream about things, then about you, and more about us. But today what would I not give to take this scraped off my mind for some peace I could find. But I found peace too. Pure bliss. Almost as if it were nirvana. I was walking down a road just after I dreamt about you. That was a dream as well. We were on a date after like a million times I had asked you. I was walking alone by the way. But we were out of the movie hall I guess. Or at least thats what it looked like. A road laid well, with golden grasses grown wild on either side. On the distance there was a town, the most near by thing you could find. But we were walking down a walkway, paved with stones, covered by an arch overhead like a walk bridge. Where it is headed no on knows. The sky was blue like you could only find in your dreams. A picture perfect moment where you are walking in unbuttoned white shirt on the outskirts of a deserted town. Like in 90’s Hindi pop. You were wearing a white shirt as well. Along with a dark blue skirt that extended just below your knees. And a black leather bag with a matching pair of sandals. But slowly the grasses were drifting away. Sideways and fading at same moment. The sky was moving back, and I stand there wondering if there’s even space behind for the sky to lean back. My navy jean and white shirt was not even a match, but I was glad it was in adjacent in the palette. You seemed haapy. All that I could wish for. Then someone we both knew saw us from distance and came walking towards us. I was worried. I was in euphoric. As the grasses were almost washed off the earth. The distant factory too were washed down as if rain pouring down upon it with the only aim to dissolve it, today out of my sight. I was worried that you might find it uncomfortable. May be you would want to run and hide. I looked at you. You were still lost in some kind of happiness that was too hard for me to grasp at this moment. The Anxiety grew deeper. You would have never thought how things disappearing from your life could bring you this kind of elation. I was aware of it. I was scared of the disappearance of the world around me initially, but it didn’t last the instance the joy, the pure exhilarating vision of this. The person came near by and you spoke to him, like you have noticed him already, and you didn’t mind. I just stood there smiling. I was just glad that you weren’t afraid of this, this us, as a pair, our hands interlocked, in some sort of high, lost in us. Even the sky faded away and I stood there forever in an empty canvas, a plain sheet of paper staring into the non-existing space. In a state of euphoria.
Dear Muse
Dear Muse,
Yes, for now you are just my muse. But how I wish it was more, not just mere admiration, but more of an interaction. I don’t want my words to be written just to be pushed to death off a cliff into the deep waters with no hope of return. I want them to be buried within the dark realms of your soul, to soak in your sadness, to root in the vessels of your thoughts and nourish. I want it to bloom into a blossom emanating the aroma of your true self. I want to cherish the fragrance even though I can’t fully understand it. I’m sure I never will.
I just want you to hear me out. It is up to you to decide to let it in. I just hope I have nuanced my words enough to pervade beyond your senses. But blocking me out had caused a back flow that led me into a mire that slowly engulfs my pride of what is left and while my contrition floods me within. But in contrast to dismay that should arise I seem to like the struggle it poses. To swim out of the puddle, while it might seem easy but with the pride drained you feel all too small. To rise is to give up. To give up is to stare into the void, stepping into the darkness as every ray of light drains down. Now I know how you lit up out of nowhere as I look into the darkness. It is the likeness, the synchronicity that put us in a space, in that proximity close enough to create that spark. But I can’t wait forever for that spark to ignite another light, another ray, another day. I’m not giving up. I’m not going to rise out of the puddle. What if I struck out? I’m going to drink it down today and with it my pride that is muddled.
And why you? Well you are resilient, rebellious and thinking about you is rewarding and rejuvenating. And the need for interaction is I’m the most comfortable talking to you. Better than anyone for now. Don’t think I haven’t confirmed. I have let down my guard and spoke to strangers and even when some conversations were good, they never make me as comfortable as a mere thought of you, even the kin. With you being a stranger all the while and yet the feel of comfort is what makes me seek you out. If you are not feeling that comfort yourself then all this devotion, albeit intense, is tenuous. Leaving me unworthy.
But today I take the chance.
And here’s to you, cheers!
Yours truly,
The relentless artist.
Shine.
Would you come lie down here next to me, here in this soft grass under the open sky? Come, I’ll show you the countless stars that shine here under us. I don’t know all their names, but sure all of them ain’t named. We could give them few names of our own. You see the stars you’ll know, they are just there to shine in their own place, forever as it pleases. You can’t find more purpose of meaning for them. Their purpose is just to sit there and shine as long as it pleases. Just like us, you next to me, me next to you. Shine.
Hey there,
Today I dreamt about you. It was the first time that you were in my dreams. No wonder there as I was thinking about you a lot lately. It is a bit logical isn’t it. But what wasn’t logical was the dream. I saw you, though actually we haven’t even met. I spoke to you, which I might not. And I asked you out, which I never will. You stood there like a lifeless mannequin. You reflected no emotions like you have never felt any. You weren’t unhappy, but you weren’t a bit glad either. Buy you did utter a yes, cause there was joy in my face not that I can look as my own. Certainly you didn’t reflect my feeling as well. It would be clearly immoral to take that yes with that tone a real yes. But I didn’t care, nothing bothered me from taking you out. Even I couldn’t stop me. I’m sure we have been seeing for a while now as we were standing facing each other with your cold face like snow heaped between my palms. It’s quite surprising how a dream could make you feel something played out with the curtains down. The chase was cut to and there you were, staring right into my eyes, frozen. For something that cold, the lips were still red as I kissed them. It was not pleasurable for either of us. I mean, physically yes, but otherwise. But I had zero guilt. Not me, I sure was feeling bad but the one doing it wasn’t. But that was not the issue. I hardly remember getting into a room let alone not closing the door. And a women passed by taking a peek. And I couldn’t say why the guilt seeped now. A moment later a man came then the women, then another and then a few. They were hysteric and looking for something and nothing stopped them looking around. They were clearly unhappy. I’m sure they were looking for happiness not for their own but just to snatch it away from me. But the anxiety already took it. But what really bothered me was you, standing there looking around without exhibiting an emotion. Even a little hate would have helped me get over the shade glooming my head. Suddenly the room was clear. It was off sudden but not something snapped away in a frame, just a natural way of sudden disappearance. I stood alone in that room as light retreated through the single door. The shadow grew and I wondered why it was so dark.
Unfinished
There were two pages left to finish the story but the train already reached the station. It wasn’t a thriller or a suspense that is going to be revealed only in the next two pages. Nobody need to be rescued. There are questions that remain unanswered. But I’m sure given the author, it is gonna be left unanswered. But it does give you the satisfaction, to finish the book just as you reach the station, with a hearty fulfillment of completing the book. May be I should have kept reading instead of taking that nap. But I hardly slept last night with all the anxiety. May be I could have skipped standing by the door as the train swept pay the hill terrain. But that was my favourite part of traveling on this route. May be I wasn’t distracted by the kids arguing, buy that was fun. I can’t get off the next station, thought it is within the city, I’ll be definitely late for the meeting. Those two pages didn’t have much importance to the rest of the story. It’s sort of saying goodbyes. The story is already done, but it’s like leaving out the desert in the plate. Not like it’s gonna be a sweet ending. I refreshed thinking about the chances those two pages can take. What if I’m wrong. What if it wasn’t goodbyes. Rather they get together instead. The bus reached the stop.
The coffee was laid. Still not much was spoken. “You’ll get your iced tea in a minute sir”. I didn’t care. Words were discovered to communicate. And there were a lot of them too. But it was hard to fill those silences with them. The pathetic music of the coffee shop was trying to alter the rhythm of my heart. I didn’t realise it’s presence all this while. “You said you wanted to talk!”. I did. The tea was served. Drowned the words for a couple of seconds. I just wanted to talk some nonsense. No one warned me that over a cup of coffee, nonsense was pretty hard to find. I tried to tell her about the book that I left unfinished, but I couldn’t remember the title.
In one sitting
I have been waiting, for over a week now. Waiting is not that hard. The real pain is in the thoughts that scratch your soul like it was glass, with their thin tin nails. A proper screech. Then it was all over with a single sight of your text. And the real joy was in the anticipation of that moment, the preparation that goes in vain and the impulsive actions that wins the day. I smiled to the thought of it while having bath. It must have been a while I think. Cause there was a pinch of pain, like you are working out a muscle that you haven’t even flinched in a while or forever. Yes, we met. We spoke like we will never run out of words. Of all the earthly things and the other worldly things that we could talk about. But in a moment within those moments, I feel I don’t deserve this. This wonderful moment which is gonna be the peak that I fall from. I feel lost like looking for the bottle cap that I dropped on a crowded street where people are always on a rush. May be there is a big discount in the near by store or all of them, may be everyone is on a hurry to get on the last train to get home for supper. Meanwhile the bottle of fruit juice I opened is shrinking slowly waiting to spill, while the crowd is unaware of my staining issue, they just go on a rampage on the bottle cover, the innocent poor thing being pushed and crushed across the heaving street. Making me almost feel guilty for dropping it. Then I see you uttering the nonsense we both don’t care about. I smiled as I sipped the juice. You can’t save it for later without the cap.
Conversations with her
“What are you scared of?”
“What!?”, she sounded puzzled.
“You heard it, what scares you the most or what are you afraid of?”
“But why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious to know what your worst fears are.”
“But why!?”
“May be because, in my head I see you, as you are. And you seem to be a brave person. So I want to know what scares you. I can’t imagine anything that would scare you”
“Why would I tell you my secret?”
“OK, don’t tell me. Thinking about it, I feel that may be I’d lose interest in you”
“Good!”
“Or may be not. May be i won’t. May be one day I’ll get to explore you, even find a one way ticket to your hidden fears. I’ll dive into the deepest dark corners of your mind to find the treasure trove of your best kept secrets and sift through them to find your worst fears, what are they made of and defines what you really are. Even if it consumes me. I’ll lie within them, fighting it for you, defeating them one by one alongside the inner you. Not like you need my help, but I would. If you let me.”