The pointlessness of it all

The more I think about it, the more I realize that making money is totally pointless especially when it keeps you away from loved ones. What's the point of life really if you can't go back home to parents or children or your partner at the end of a long hard day at work? We stay away from home and our home cities/countries waiting all year for those 10 days to go back and be with them and for many of us even that doesn't happen every year. We wish against all hope to make it for a childhood best friend's or a sister's or a brother's wedding and on most occasions don't manage to. Most of our Facebook statuses are about how we miss being with family and friends especially during the Holidays, how we miss Park Street at Christmas time or Delhi's wintry mornings and "Maa ke haath ka khana". We call our old grandparents and give them a hard time as they literally scream into the telephone to ensure they can be heard thousands of miles away and when they ask when they would be seeing us next, we answer quickly with "soon", all the time living with the fear that it could very well be "never". 

And yet every morning, I snooze my alarm three times, crawl out of bed unwillingly and wear my business suit to go make some money. Most days, I don't stop to think why. But when I do, I realize the pointlessness of it all and then this piece happens. 

Citius, Altius, Fortius - My Daddy strongest

8^th of November 2010 . A date that I will not forget and I choose never to. Because this day distinctly marks the beginning of my adulthood. I clearly remember it was the Monday after Diwali weekend. It had been a long weekend of festivities and partying and the usual madness that comes easy when you are young. My BFF was visiting and after the insanity that happened on Friday and Saturday, we thought we needed a break on Sunday. So, she and I took a 90 minute train ride into the city that evening. To relax. Yes, in those days, that was pretty much our idea of relaxation. Of course, once in the city, the whole idea of relaxation flew out of the window. So we partied some more, met more friends, hung out till late and I had barely just crashed around 5 AM, every part of my body tired and aching but the little child in me happy and excited and carefree. I was probably still in a state of half wakefulness when the phone flashed – “Home calling”. Unusual, I thought. It’s barely 6 in the morning. Also, my folks never really call. They just text or give me a missed call and I call them back. I picked up and answered with a sleepy ‘Hello’, not knowing then that this call on the 8^th of November 2010 will change me and my family forever.

It was a long battle since that day. How long? 3 months, 6 months, a year? I don’t think I can say when the fear finally started to subside. I don’t know if I can say it truly ever stopped or will stop. At best, you make peace with it and learn to live with it. Every time there is a little coughing, there is fear in the eyes of every loved one. Every time the weighing machine shows a pound lesser, there is summoning the doctor. There is fear, there is despair, there is hopelessness, and there is pain, suffering, weakness, lack of motivation, no willingness to go on with anything. There is disapproval of your appearance, there are uncountable ‘why me’s, there is faith shaken, there is Godlessness. But also there is strength, there is a fighting spirit, there is constant learning and trying and where none should be left, there is hope. There is a wish to live, to go on. There is love and prayers and faith renewed. There is a man I call father, who makes me who I am. A man I call Papa, whose hug still fixes the world. A man I call daddy, who never gave up. My sister and I loved the ‘My Daddy strongest’ commercial from when we were kids and often broke into fights with other kids claiming that our dad had some kind of superiority over theirs. Today, 8^th of November 2015, I will say ‘My Daddy strongest’ and no one can tell me otherwise. Congratulations Papa on completing the 5 year cancer free mark today. Your mental and physical strength are unmatched. You continue to teach us by example every day that nothing can stop one from chasing their dreams, not even the ‘Emperor of All Maladies’. Cheers to good health and an indomitable spirit. 

Karobaar

Aaj ek lambe arse baad tumhe yaad kiya.

Darasal, yaad nahi.

Yaad toh hum roz hi kisi na kisi bahaane se kar lete hain.

Aaj ek lambe arse baad tumhara number ghumaya.

Do baar ghanti baji ki nahi, tumne phone uthaya

Kaafi utsukta se tumne poocha – “Kaisi ho?”

(Main aag mein jhulasti ek talwaar ke jaisi hun

Aandhiyon mein hain kaanpti jo shaakh main vaisi hun

Jiske paar na pahunche koi us deewar ke jaisi hun

Chattan ke jaisi hun, main pahaar ke jaisi hun

Baarishon mein phoot-ti us boond ke jaisi hun

Jo badalon se chhoot-ti par dharti par girti nahi vaisi hun

Main shor machaati hawaon ke jaisi hun

Main lalkaar ke jaisi hun, hahakaar ke jaisi hun

Phir bhee shok sannatte mein chupchaap si jaisi hun

Main pyaar ke jaisi hun, alankaar ke jaisi hun

Phir bhi mudatton se chal rahe tiraskaar ke jaisi hun

Main abhimaan si, pehchaan si, ek bol ke jaisi hun

Main geet hun, main gaan hun, ek awaaz ke jaisi hun

Par main mook hun, vidwaan hun, main gungaan ke jaisi hun

Main parchhai hun, aur rooh bhi hun

Aur dil ke bhi jaisi hun

Main nadi hun, samundar hun, main leher ke jaisi hun

Main kavita hun, kahaani hun, ek kitaab ke jaisi hun

Main girti hun, khud hi sambhalti hun

Khud ghao apne bharti hun

Jab bhi aankhein chhalakti hain

Aansoon ko khud hi peeti hun

Jab dard se kaleja phat-ta hain

Main goongi hi chheekhti chillati hun

Main toofano se joojh kar, phir khud ko hi samjhaati hun -

Main aurat nahi, karobaar hun

Karobaar ke hi jaisi hun)

Kaafi utsukta se tumne poocha – “Kaisi ho?”

Jawaab hai – “Main acchhi hun”

Knock! Knock!! Knock! Knock!!

Knock! Knock!! Knock! Knock!!
Good heavens, are you the same??
Knocking on my door that night
In the rain you came?

Knock, knock, knock, knock!!
Can't you hear my hollow bones?
Knocking on your door all night
In the rain..

And all I want, all I really really want
is just some sleep
And a bullet through my head
To numb the pain!

And all I want, all I really really want
Is some skin
And an arm around my neck
To numb the pain!

Knock, knock, knock, knock!!
Your footsteps in my head
How you walked all over my heart
In my bed...

Knock, knock, knock, knock!!
How are you without me??
I guess you don't even
remember my name?

And all I want, all I really really want
Is some blood
A slit running down my throat
To numb the pain..

And all I want, all I really really want
Is some air
Look I'm flying, I'm flying now
There is no pain.

Hisaab

Kai baar zindagi us modh par lakar khadi kar deti hai
jahaan hum gile-shikwon ka hisaab-kitaab karte hain
apne khaate khol kar baith jaate hain, aur ek ek kar len den ka hisaab karte hain
kabhi number jodhte hain to hisaab mil jata hai
par aksar hum apne aap ko ghaate mein paate hai
kya kabhi socha hai aapne, hum apne aap ko kabhi fayde mein kyun nahi paate hain?
Duniya ka hisaab toh pakka hai.
saare khaate ant mein hisaab barabar hi dikhlate hain
agar hum sab ke khaate nuksaan mein hain toh fayde mein kaun hai?
agar humse hamesha sab kuch khoya hai toh paa kaun raha hai?

I do not remember, I do not forget.

I do not remember the promises you made
Or the three carat engagement ring you spent your twelve years' savings on
I do not remember the wedding wows or
the honeymoon sunset cruise
I do not remember our first house with the patio
the breathtaking view of the lake or the boat you got me for my birthday
I do not remember the model of our convertible or the James Beard dinner on our fifth anniversary
I do not remember the orchids you flew in from Venice
or that one time when we spontaneously hopped on a private jet to the islands.
But...
I do not forget that when the pasta I made had no salt
you ate with a smile and licked the bowl clean
I do not forget that when I twisted my ankle walking in stilettos
you promptly sat down on the floor
in your Tux and rubbed it till it hurt no more
I do not forget when I had four AM flights, you stayed up those nights
just to hold me one more time
just to smile me goodbyes
I do not forget when I kept rubbing my eyes that November
you tied up my fingers, we laughed till forever.
I do not forget when I saw my first gray hair
such a hue and cry I raised
and you shared in my mock despair
I do not forget when it was cold, when it was snowing
you agreed in my delusion that my summer plants were growing
I do not forget when they came down and took me
when they said in this cell there was a strict no visitors policy
you still came everyday and stood by the tall iron gates
I do not forget how you always stayed.
I do not forget how you always stayed.

Butter & a Revolving Door

I do not miss you like the ocean waves crashing on the sands
or the pied cuckoo that longs for the rain
I do not miss you like snow-less mountain peaks in winter
Or like music and lyrics,
or like poppies and pain
I do not miss you like a loveless marriage
Or a funeral home's silence and lack of compassion.
Like fresh dew drops on green grass
like sprightly daisies in a field of dandelions
like red roses and baby's breath
like bluebells and peonies
like the weary desert traveler in search of oases
I do not miss you like blue empty vases.
Or unknown cities of unknown trespasses.
I do not miss you like the Fifth symphony and the piano
Or broken guitar strings from summers long ago
I miss you like yellow
like water bottles
I miss you like revolving doors
And like butter on waffles. 

Piya tum mujhse door rehna

Piya tum mujhse door rehna.
khush rehna par door rehna.
Darkhwaast hai ye mere dil ki, 
par sunai deti kuch maghroor hai.
jaanti hun tum kahoge, 
phir se chhaya mujhpe koi fitoor hai
zillaton ki aandhiyon mein har baar tootna bikharna
phir unhi bhikhre tukron ko bator kar sambhalna
maachis ki teeliyon pe har bar apna ghar banana
aur ansoo-on se bheegi palkon pe naye sapne phir sajaana
har diwali, har holi pe paas hoke bhi door hona
duniya ke reeti-riwaazon se har waqat majboor hona
kehte hai jitni tadap ho, kahaani utni hee mashoor hoti hai
Heer-Ranjha,Suhni-Mehar,Mirza-Sahiban..
Aur bhi nyochhavar hui, kitni jawaaniyan, kitne hoor, hai na?
sunayi saza umr kaid ki, phir muskura ke bole piya - "manzoor hai na?"
aisi berukh zindagi ko ab maut bhi lagti noor hai na.
Tumhaare saath saath ab tumhaara Khuda bhi hai majboor,
bolo Khuda bhi ab majboor hai na?

Shame

(They say childhood is the most fondly remembered time of people’s lives. But some memories are best walled, forgotten and never having to recall until one day most unexpectedly it comes back to you and the walls come crumbling down)

Pinafores and pigtails

Giggles and glides

The sound of her laughter

The spark of her eyes

She called him dear uncle

She ran to say hi

He lifted her pronto

The man in disguise

Lip gloss & braids

School uniform & ties

The quiet hide n seek

From her uncle’s eyes

“Mummy, I can’t go”

“Mummy, it’s too hot outside”

She chides you for disobedience

She tells you – “Be nice”

Slowest steps of repulsion

She walks to his ambush

His cackle like cannons

Piercing skin, bones and thighs

Saudade - the malady of missingness

Missing you is a malady. An aberration of the heart that helps with nothing and interferes with everything. We talk all day. And you don't leave me alone in my dreams either. I don't understand how I could still miss you.
But I missed you that night when I lay in bed with you. My head on your shoulder, your fingers in my hair. The silence filling the room, every breath in sync. That night I missed your voice.

I like waking up next to you on a holiday. Not having to rush anywhere, staying in bed, doing nothing. But I missed you that morning when I woke up. We talked for hours. Cracked silly jokes, laughed till our jaws heart. We were so loud that morning. That morning I missed hearing you breathe.

Remember the nights of relentless love making? Our burning hot bodies so close, it was hard to tell one from another. Those nights I missed the spaces between us.

I like how you would kiss me goodbye every time you had to travel for work. How my eyes would well up despite knowing you will be back the next day. How you would call me at every opportunity with an excuse just to hear my voice. Those nights I missed you. I missed your touch.

I hate going to the movies with you. I hate that we sit so close to each other for three hours and can't speak a word. I hate that there's so much that happens on screen I want to share an opinion about right then but I can't. I hate that you can't show me another way of looking at it while we are right there. All those evenings, I miss our conversations. 

Daughter to Father

Papa. Today, I paused long and hard after writing that four letter word. I reflected. Rewind to Father's Day 2011, I woke up that morning my heart filled with gratitude like never before. To be honest, and to just say it bluntly, no sugar coating, I was just happy that day that you were alive. Unpleasant memories are the last thing one wants to remember. Naturally, the more you try to push these thoughts aside, the more stubborn these beasts get at resurfacing.
Nov 26th, 2010 was unambiguously the worst day of my life. Just like every year, I had taken the 17 hour flight to India, one day before your birthday. Around midnight, I reached home, rang the bell and waited with my full blown smile to greet you all. Mummy opened the door. Her face cold & pale as a white stone, no expression. Within seconds, I felt my jaw muscles stiffen. The only word I could manage to mouth - "What?" and she burst into tears in my arms. Tania, mom and I lay on the bed that night in distraught silence; counting hours, minutes, seconds. Every second felt like an hour, every hour like a year. We spoke not a word to each other that night. We had none.
Then dawned the morning of 26th, your birthday. First one standing in line as the clock struck visiting hours, I pulled myself strong and entered the ICU. Papa, I will never forget that moment when I saw you that day. Your body lying listless on the hospital bed, face unshaven for days, arms swollen, uncountable tubes & pipes running through the nose, mouth, throat, stomach, veins. Your chest heaving in synch with the scary looking loud ventilator. I know it's the last thing one wants, that no parent wants to live long enough to see his children die. But in that moment, that dying moment I wished and prayed and a thousand other emotions in a second to swap places with you. I stood there and muttered under my breath - "I love you Papa. Happy Birthday" as tears wet my cheeks.
The good news is we survived. Recovery was long and difficult and painful but we made it. I say 'we' because I think it was a cumulative flow of positivity and hope from all the people whose lives you have touched and who love you that brought you back. Even the doctors agreed this was nothing short of a miracle. In a few months from now, you will hit the 5 year cancer free milestone. I look at you everyday and see how hard you fought, how strong you were in the face of adversity, how many times you lost, how many times you were knocked down but didn't surrender. There is more to learn from you than I can possibly try to in a lifetime. And there is more I feel for you than any number of words from the dictionary can ever tell. I admire you and your tenacity and I want some day I can be half of what you are. Almost every prudent thing I have done thus far in life (though there are very few), I owe them to you and you alone. On this father's day, I just want to give you a public shout out - "My Daddy Strongest". Happy Father's Day Papa. Live long & strong!

How I stopped cribbing and finally started living.

Like most of you all know, I wake up every morning wanting to travel. But within a few minutes the realization dawns upon me that my bank account is not at all in agreement with my wanderlust. This results in going around in circles over the same ground, daily frustration and a cloud of hopelessness because I am not quite the savings kind and even the once or twice when I have tried, it just ends up some place else. More pragmatic if you would like to call it that but of little real use to me in the present day and also often times ends up being put to philanthropic causes, yet again never really making me directly happy or closer to my life goals or wants. This is a vicious circle I haven’t been able to break for years. But last morning, I had an idea, almost a brainwave and I think I can finally change this. Also, I have barely begun but I want to share this with you in case you want to give it a try too. It would be fun to have some company on this mission.

Now, like most of us our generation, I am an impulsive buyer. I buy a lot of things to put it bluntly just because I “feel like”. I also tend to get lazy and most times don’t pack lunch from home and end up spending $7.5 at the office café on food I honestly don’t even really want to eat. These are just two examples. There are numerous such thoughtless expenditures every day, multiple times a day. Once in a while, I do act somewhat prudently (by my and strictly my standards, of course) and don’t order that overpriced $12 Long Island Iced Tea that is a shame on the pious institution of mixology anyway. But even when I do that, I don’t see my savings account grow richer by $12. I just never realize I saved a few even on the rare occasions that I do.

So, starting yesterday I have set myself an account called 'Travel Fund' at a zero balance. This could be a savings account linked to your primary bank account, a PayPal account anything really that lets you move small sums of money into it without charging you a fee or making it seem like a Herculean task. And the idea is simple. Every time you cook and bring lunch from home, you transfer the money you would have spent on lunch to that account. Similarly, when you go out for dinner with friends and you order tap water with lemon instead of a fancy ass cocktail, you transfer the $10 or $12. If you wax your hands and legs at home instead of heading to the parlor this weekend, give yourself the $30. And if you pass on that awesome looking brown and gold Michael Kors at the mall tomorrow, transfer that $400 to your Travel Fund account and give yourself a pat on the back. Then when it hits a $600-700 or whatever can buy you a cheap ticket to some place you have been wanting to go, Go! Then come back penny broke but rich with experiences and start at zero again. And remember this life mantra – “Buy experiences, not things” because when you are older that Gucci or Armani won’t make you smile but the hotel staff that clapped like you were President Obama when you were leaving your hotel at Nashville and hurriedly delivering your thank you-cum-goodbye speech clubbed into one, sure as hell will.

Bon voyage!

I need you to talk to me… ALL THE TIME

Silence worries me. In fact, to be completely honest I hate it. Even a minute of silence is unbearable to me. Since I was young, I was cursed with two things –

1. Being unimaginably chatty any hour of the day and never tiring myself out of it

2. Thinking way too much

At first glance, the two may seem totally unrelated but a certain combination of the two can wreak havoc on the likes of me. Yes, you guessed it right. Negative of #1 and a surplus of #2.

When my very chatty self is forced into silence, my mind somersaults into thinking too many things. None of them good.

One such period was when my partner decided to go completely silent on me for nine hours straight one day. I analyzed and over analyzed the dynamics of our relationship. Played the previous day’s conversation over & over in my head. Tried to read between the lines, make more sense of gestures, of words that may have remained unspoken. Cooked up half-a-dozen absurd scenarios in my head. Then one by one reasoned as to why they could not be true.

Living under the curse of technology and a gazillion different ways of corresponding with people, I looked at the last seen whatsapp timestamp a five hundred and thirty seven times. Stalked his Facebook every few minutes for any activity, checked my phone a few times to make sure the network strength was full that I may not be missing any calls. Then resolved to stop thinking about it, maybe he is just busy, maybe he just has nothing to say right now. Or Maybe he doesn’t remember me? Maybe there is nothing left to talk between us? Maybe this relationship is already over or just hanging by a thread? Maybe there is someone else? The human mind is so full of SHIT – ‘Surprisingly Hilarious Imaginative Treatise’, some of them with enough details for a three hundred page fantasy novel. I found myself falling deeper and deeper into an abyss of self-deprecating thoughts only to be suddenly startled by a loud ring. (Of course, I had kept my phone’s ringer on the loudest volume possible). I picked up the phone to be greeted by the sweetest albeit sleepy – “Good morning love”. I froze.

Nine hours back the same voice had wished me a sleepy good night and said the most sincere “I love you”, I had ever heard. I hung up. I knew this had to end. There was enough love but our worlds could never meet. This was my story every night when the rest of the world slept but I, Natasha, a chronic insomniac stayed up all night.

P.S. – This is an alternative style short piece of fiction written to bring into perspective how serious the issue of insomnia is. Insomnia is often not taken seriously by the victim or the people around them. But in most scenarios, chronic insomnia is an early indication of the onset of other major disorders including depression and schizophrenia and can ruin perfectly healthy relationships, marriages, families, careers. Please get help or assist your loved ones in getting help before it’s too late.

Mademoiselle X

A house. Four walls and a roof.
The California king bed can sleep much more than two
Spaces between them, in bed and otherwise.
Sometimes their bodies touch,
they don't know how
Senseless love-making follows,
they don't know why
Eyes staring at the ceiling as he takes her in.
Her gaze piercing through the roof -
she wonders what the night sky whispers to the ocean
wonders how the soft waves are kissing the moonlit sand tonight.
The customary declaration of love
followed by turning of backs
falling asleep on the edge of the California king.

A house. His closet & her closet.
Sometimes when he is gone, she smells his shirts, fingers his tie
Tries to find a hint of herself, may be a whiff from the time gone by.
She can't.
Sometimes she weeps.
But mostly she is relieved.
Some evenings when he is back, she acts.
Fakes a smile and brings him tea.
And triumphs when he can't tell.

A house. Two children. A boy and a girl.
Every day she packs their lunch, drives them to school.
To football games and piano lessons.
Their perfect little family.
Looking for little rewards in her children's eyes.
Sometimes she imagines.
She believes she is alive.
That the clicking of the hands of the clock -
Is her life.
But mostly she knows -
She is a corpse.

I know not love

What Is love - a reassurance? A confirmation?
An acknowledgement? A stamp?
A fallen virtue needing recognition
A flickering light from a fading lamp

Is love, love anymore when not freely given?
When it's lost and directionless and panic stricken?
When a thousand kisses in the air have risen
but not one to land on your lover's lips?

Is love, less love if there is no acceptance?
Is love, not love in the belly of impatience
If I love for the sake my love be taken
I know not love, love knows not mine.

Perspective

It was a usual lazy sunday afternoon. Half of which I had spent cribbing about trivialities like it being too sunny, too hot, too bright outside; tomorrow being a Monday requiring me to go back to mundane work again; and the other half was spent in picking between two really hard life choices - doing the laundry, cleaning the house, cooking versus napping and wasting time. As one would expect, laziness is mightier than all swords and hence, the latter choice always wins. Fast foward to 5 PM sunday evening. I wake up sullen & sourpuss because well for one, its only a few hours to the ever dreadful Monday now but also because no work got done and the house is a mess. In your head you go all dramatic about what a big piece of shit life is and how you don't like anything or anyone. You make mental notes of how endlessly your mom talks everytime you call her and yet complains about you not calling her enough. You think about what a pain 16 hour flights are to India and sometimes wish you didn't have to ever take them again. The sun outside is still blinding you. Did you really wait for summer so eagerly? Give me the winter anyday over this. Oh! But the snow! Don't you hate that too? Your mind wanders to that annoying colleague at work. Isn't she competitive to the edge of being a jerk? Who cares? You hate work anyways. But you love the gym at work, don't you? I wonder why I don't lose any weight. How much harder can I slog at the gym, really? Isn't it frustrating when you work out every single day of the week with passion and your weighing machine hasn't budged a number (not even the one after the decimal point) in five months? I am hungry. What do I cook for dinnner? I possibly can't eat out again. I miss India. Those guys have it so lucky. Most of my friends still never have to cook. And really if I had the luxury of a maid doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen afterwards, I would cook as much as Nigella Lawson. Why are the fuel prices going up again? Tickets are so expensive to everywhere. Can't believe I will be sulking at home yet another long weekend. Do I really love my boyfriend? I wonder what he adds to my experience of life. Do I even like men? How could I possibly tell if I liked women without ever dating one? After all, wasn't I conditioned to believe I am straight? I hate finance. Don't I? Didn't I always hate math, numbers, finance. How did I end up on wall street? I think it's the commute to Manhattan every day that makes it worse? Is it about time I moved to the city? That would mean no savings. Savings! What a joke. I don't have any savings even today. But can I really live in an 8X11 prison cell? with rats, possibly! All I need is a pet but is is such a responsibility. Plus, all day alone for the pet at home - inhumane, don't you think? As usual again, your mind is a jungle. A chaotic mess of contradictory and regressive thoughts whiplashing against each other, possibly bringing in a neurosis. You mindlessly reach out for your phone. One unread email - the screen says. It's from my accountant. It read - 

Hello Jiya,

Regret the silence from my end these past few weeks. We lost our daughter to an aggressive, hitherto unknown, strain of cancer last month. I am now getting back into work mode and will get back to you after updating pending work at my end. Regret any inconvenience it may have caused.

Regards,

Ankit Mehta 

Wham!! What were you just hit with. You have never met Ankit. He works remotely from his California office. You don't know who his daughter is. But you know she was young, probably your age. And you had once seen a smiling picture of Ankit with his daughter somewhere on social media. You do remember her eyes. Young, ambitious, full of life. Wanting to see so much, to do so much. Hoping to travel across the seven seas, hoping to to fall in love a few times. So many dreams. Suddenly, all the noise in my head is all gone. There's pin drop silence. My trembling fingers find the reply button on my phone. I stare at the screen blankly. I don't know how to say I am sorry for your loss to this father. I cannot say I feel his pain because in all honesty, I can't. So, through the tears & the silence, I sit there phone in hand not knowing what to type.

For what is love that hath no eyes

For what is love that hath no eyes
that hath not met, that deals in lies
Ye love that for convenience sake
thrives in lonely hours, on a secret lake

It hath no limbs, it hath no sight
Wist we all that love is blind! but this?
This has no eyes, this doth not see
And thus lives on, in monopoly

Thy voice so sweet upon me fell
For thee, I sin; For thee, I'd take hell
Thy voice that sounds like heaven bells
Avaunt! Wise men rue, what a dreadful knell

Love that claims of longest kisses
No lips have met, nor tongues intertwined
Many a heaving bosoms, forlorn and turned
Ah! But a hundred nights the sighs have chimed

And yet one more time the night crawls in
And yet one more time on our beds we lain
Our hollow shadows on the wall
Ah! Such disdain. Ah! Such disdain

For what is love that can not touch
Nor fill my mouth with a burning kiss
Sets my heart ablaze with passion doth
And in one swift strike, unwraps my soul aloft my heels

When I am gone...

Some evenings, I just sit on my couch, book in hand, looking out of the window. Not reading, just staring blankly into the vastness. I wonder if I was gone, would you miss me? Every morning I wake up and I call you. I talk to you throughout the day in between tasks that demand my attention. We talk about our day, about past incidents, about future aspirations. Sometimes we talk about sundry things - the weather, football, other people. We talk & talk. We talk a lot. Sometimes, amidst the madness of our really busy days, one of us messages the other - "I miss you". I wonder what it really means. I think the simplest explanation is - I miss talking to you? What does that make me? Am I my words, am I my voice? What if tomorrow morning I woke up like Nakata? No recollection of anything, no words. Not knowing what to say or how to talk? But I woke up next to you and you never left my side again. Would you still miss me?

Sometimes I think we try too hard. Too hard to be liked, to be loved, to be wanted, to be missed, to not be forgotten. Why do we want to be remembered? Wouldn't it be nice if I was gone today and tomorrow you wouldn't remember me? Why do I want to be remembered? When I am gone, would I know I am still remembered?

I know I am replacable. I know I am not special. That you see everything in me, but it's in parts. And part by part, I am replacable. That if I am gone suddenly, without notice, without warning - you will be surprised but tomorrow will be just another day. The same day without the talk. May be you will miss the sound of my laughter on the phone, may be no one will ask you if you had lunch. May be a week will pass. But you will have lunch everyday without anyone asking if you did. You will still cross the road. Then slowly, or not so slowly, may be fastly, you will forget. The sound of my laughter, the sound of my voice, my talk, me. I will be a distant name on the far far horizon. But I was more. I was more than my words. I was more than my voice. I was more. But you and I never got to know.

Thinking "In" Loud

This morning, I woke up to the most beautiful version of Ed Sheeran's - Thinking out Loud. It lasted all of four minutes and thirty three seconds and despite being a very sleepy me, the entire length of the song, "my eyes smiled from my cheek". I am in love with this song. I practically breathe music. So, it's quite natural for me to be in love with certain songs from time to time. And I always seem to find something new to be addicted to, to replace the older one. But this one has managed to stick. For months. Every day. Multiple times a day. On repeat. Putting me to sleep every night, waking me up gently every morning, keeping me company on long solo drives into sunsets. Makes me wonder - “darling, will I be loving you 'til we're 70?"

Love is a beautiful, beautiful thing. In any capacity and any form, I believe there isn't a feeling more unadulterated than love. The human mind confuses it with a myriad of other emotions & feelings sometimes and then love doesn't seem like what it should be - pure & unconditional, honest & forgiving, passionate & all encompassing.

You may wonder if love is after all such a thing of beauty, more often than not why do we find ourselves all hurt & broken afterwards? Or worse, sometimes in it? There is a simple one word answer to that - expectations. Over the years, society has conditioned our mind to believe certain things and expect certain things with different kinds of love. We love our children today, coz they are "our" children, we are "supposed" to love them but sadly, also because we expect them to take care of us when we are weak & old. We love our parents coz we owe our life on earth to them but also because we know no matter how badly we screw up & how badly we treat them, they'll always be on our side, even when that is the wrong side. We love our husbands & wives because they are our safety net coz no matter how dull or boring we become tomorrow they'll still stick around. We love our brothers, wishfully thinking even years later when they are married & smitten by their gorgeous wives, we will still be the most important woman in their lives. We love our lovers coz they love us back, coz they make us feel good about ourselves, and most importantly coz they bring us hope of a dream like tomorrow. I am not undermining any of these relationships or emotions, but until you have allowed yourself to fall recklessly, madly, unconditionally in love you have not experienced this higher form of love that I am talking about here. Love that makes your eyes light up like a million stars, love that makes your heart swell. They talk about "how people fall in love in mysterious ways, Maybe just the touch of a hand" but have you ever been in love that touches you deep inside without ever touching? Love that makes you rich, so rich without ever giving? Love that makes "your mouth still remember the taste of the love" without ever kissing? That kind of love is rare, almost an oddity. But it is truly worth experiencing, I can tell you that. When you will be able to love without naming, without expectations and without holding back, you will experience life in a whole new way. Find a person or a thing you can love like that. But like I said, feeling this love is rare. Finding it, even more rare. If you ever find it, hold it with both hands and make sure it doesn't slip away. I hope you find it at least once in your lifetime. If you are lucky, may be you will find this kind of love more than once. And when all else fails, get a dog. 

Matloon Mizaj

Meri rooh, teri rooh
Meri baat, teri baat
Tere lavzon se mukkamal ki jaati thi,
mere honton se nikli hui har adhoori baat
Meri nabz, teri nabz
Meri saans, teri saans
Sirf kahaaniyon mein suna karte the hum,
aisa hote huye dekha hai aaj pehli baar
Mera aks, tera aks
Mera waqt, tera waqt
Badi shiddaton se ishq kiya karte the,
ki ho buland in gehraiyon se apna pyaar
Mere sawaal, tere sawaal
Mere jawaab, tere jawaab
Badi maasoomiyat se kiye jaate the,
bade jazbe se dhoonde jaate the jawabdehi ke auzaar
Mera dard, tera dard
Meri maat, teri maat
Shikast pasandi ka yeh kaarobaar hai sab,
teri haar mein kahin chhuppi hai meri bhi haar

Why I Can't Wish 'Mother's Day' To My Mom This Year

Firstly, thanks Womanatics for making a blog post out of this. I wouldn't have thought of converting my facebook status into a blog post. Here's the link -

http://www.womanatics.com/2014/05/true-story-why-i-cant-wish-mothers-day.html

Every Mother's Day I put up a status just like you all saying just how lucky and fortunate I am to have mom in my life, how she is the single best thing that ever happened to me and how I want to make her feel so very special today. Every year, just like a million other lucky sons and daughters, I wait eagerly for this second Sunday of May. This year, however, I have been dreading this day. A part of me is secretly wishing, mummy doesn't login to Facebook at all today. That somehow in her Sunday chores, the day just whizzes by and she fails to notice. Alas! That won't happen. Thanks to our invasive media, social and otherwise, the countless advertisements would take care that nobody, absolutely nobody gets past today without noticing it's Mother's Day. And yet again with some teeny weeny hope, I pray, she fails to notice. For this Mother's Day is my mother's first without her mom. And no matter how much love her kids, her husband, her dad and her brothers shower upon her, it will never add up to what she misses - today and everyday! 

A mom's love can never be replaced and the emptiness it leaves in your heart when she leaves is there to stay. I can hardly imagine what its like to wake up one day and know your mom is gone. Forever. I know it's the eternal truth but I don't want to imagine. And I hate to say it to you all, but this truth of life is universal. My truth here is no different from yours. And though Mother's Day definitely isn't the day to prepare yourself to brace this, but it certainly is the da to hug her just a little tighter, smile for her just a little brighter and say those three words rarely said to a mom anymore these days - 'I love you mom'. I love you very very much, mummy. 

And this is what I want to say to you -- all these years you have been a hell of a mom to me, but it's my turn now. I know I can never match up to Dida (grandma), but I try everyday. Everyday, I wake up and I try to be your mom. And though I will never quite get there, I hope it's making a difference. 

I am not scared anymore that you may wake up and notice it's Mother's Day. Infact, I hope now you wake up and login to Facebook first. I know tears will roll down your cheeks as you read this message, but I also know they will land on a beautiful smile - Happy Mother's Day!

Dil ki zubaan

befizool, bewajah,

behisaab, har jagah

humne poocha hai kai baar

kyun aati hai bin bulaye?

tune keh diya tha, ek baar

phir awaaz na dena

magar kambhakht teri yaad

ye peecha hi chodhe na

abhi bhi aati hai jo shaam

wo dhalti hai tere naam

abhi bhi raat ke sannato mein

tera ehsaas gunjta hai

hum dil se kehte hain

uska afsos kya karna?

wo jo kabhi tha hi na tera

us par har roz kyun marna?

dil badtameez hai mera

wapas jawaab deta hai

tu duniya ke kaydon mein jee

dil ki zubaan tere bas ki ab nahi

Mirror of your soul

You can always smile

and smile & smile away

and with that pretty smile

hide the pain deep deep inside

so baby you just smile
and let the smile override
override the hurt
the pain beneath just hide.
but when I look into your eyes
it's a mirror of your soul
and no matter how hard you try
they have a story to tell
and I see it thro your eyes
the mirror of your soul
baby, how you are bleeding
how it's hurting deep inside
..And then there comes a cloud
a cloud of gushing tears..
For a moment I think,
you are out of control..
the floodgates are now broken.
and the pain comes gushing out
But in reality, it's just another trick
to cloud my vision of
the mirror of your soul.

A big fat lie

...And sometimes your whole damn life 
just comes down to - a big fat lie
that you haven't even lived in a while
...And sometimes your life rolls out 
like a big joy ride
but you still haven't lived in a while

Sometimes the mask comes off
and what you see in the mirror,
Oh baby!!! You don't like
Sometimes the ice breaks down
but you still can't think
of a thing to try..

...And sometimes your whole damn life
just comes down to - a big fat lie
that you haven't even lived in a while
...And sometimes your life rolls out
like a big joy ride
but you still haven't lived in a while

Sometimes the people you loved,
practically all your life
you didn't find standing by
Sometimes the storm is so harsh,
brngs down the roof over your head
but baby, you just didn't cry...

...And sometimes your whole damn life
just comes down to - a big fat lie
that you haven't even lived in a while
...And sometimes your life rolls out
like a big joy ride
but you still haven't lived in a while

Sometimes the life you swore as a kid
you would just ne'er have
is the one you lived by
Sometimes the whole world cheers,
"Baby, you made it!!", But you didn't
and only you know why...

...And sometimes your whole damn life
just comes down to - a big fat lie
that you haven't even lived in a while
...And sometimes you life rolls out
like a big joy ride
but you still haven't lived in a while

Ehsaas

Off late, a video of a woman being unwillingly touched on a plane by a man has been making the rounds on social media. Though it's nothing new or unheard of, the video going viral, makes us think critically about the simple human touch. A few words I wrote this evening and would like to share... 

"Dekh ay Khuda teri duniya mein lams ka mazaak ban gaya
Jo qurbat ka vaahan tha, woh auzaar ban gaya
Bande ki neeyat ne yun rukh badla ki dafe amraz aaj talwaar ban gaya
Kehte hain kaid mein bhookh, pyaas se bhi zyaada banda ehsaas ko tarasta hai,
Phir kyun aaj yeh ehsaas hi napaak ban gaya."

Kokh

Jab main ek nanhi saans thi Maa
aur tere liye naya ehsaas thi Maa
har pal khushiyon se ghiri thi tab 
us waqt hee sabse khaas thi Maa

'mera bacchha' keh kar Bapu sehlate the
'Raja beta' keh kar pyaar se bulate the
teri hansi ki khilkhilahat
chupchaap reh kar sunti thi Maa

Jab pareshaan main karti thi
kabhi bhook se, kabhi yun hi bilakhti thi
teri aankhein chhalak jaati thi
par hoton pe phir bhi muskaan thi Maa

Teri hansi ki woh awaaz
aaj bhi kano mein goonjti hai
woh muskaan tere hoton par dekhne ko
meri har saans aaj bhi tarasti hai
Tu sochti hain main nahi hun ab
par har pal teri aankhon se
main aansoo ban kar behti hun Maa
main teri yaadon mein rehti hun Maa

Contradictions

The more I see, the less I know 
the less I know, the more I woe
without a thought, without a care
without the want to look up my nare
And then I seek less, but I find more
In a sparrow's tweet or a lion's roar
The lullaby of the crashing waves
or the deafening noise of the fallen pin
Which do you choose, which do you faze?
of defeating nights or glorious days
of grown men playing wayward roles
of soldiers piercing innocent souls
Which do you choose, which do you faze?
A life of contradictions, in this maze.