Friday, July 23, 2010

Baggage Claim


So I was talking to a friend who recently got, let's say, transferred! And all I could hear on the phone was her new friends and her responses to them. Lots of chaos and too much of "hold on.." for my patience and ego. I was grateful when the call got cut. Grateful, not happy, mind you! At least relieved? No! Not even close! In fact, the panic began once the call got cut! I was only grateful to not have to hear more of it..
Its a minor portion of the feeling that one of two lovers in a movie feels when they are making their way to their ever-welcoming refuge- the airport! Be it airport or railway station, I think, we sit glued to the screen because we relate to the saturated one's need to get away; because their faith just got shaken and they are grateful just to not have anymore of it! In such cases, we might sit and debate "but real love is very much different, complicated and realistic than this chase to the airport!"
However, I feel that inspite of our experienced arguments and the predictability of the scene, some of us well up in anxiety and pray for the lover to stop the departure of their consort and his/her faith.


At some or the other point, a minor, different, complicated and realistic representation of the breathless run to the airport, is needed in all our lives to save our faith. That could happen in any way, in any form of relationship. Not that dramatic and quite obviously there isn't a happily ever after everytime; but just one of many tiny temporary happy endings, just to say that everything is okay. We go through life with the security of a two-year old, who gets restless at not feeling a parent nearby, in sleep. And as much as we grow up to know the reality of love and life, we are never too mature for a pampering reassurance.
The phone rang again. I picked it up, still thinking about everything. "I love you!" my friend piped in, on the other end. I smiled "I know!"

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Love


Why crash against
me?
If only
To take
A part of my ground

And leave me
Waiting
For you to wash over

Even if
To leave me breathless
And make me
let go forever...


Sunday, March 7, 2010

Blue love

It isn't about you

You laugh quietly in my hair
Our wild repartee
Has gone down to meaningless whispers...
In sly understanding
My fingers coil around yours

My last question
Dissolved by your lips
It isn't about you, is it?

Crazed blue aura
Around silhouettes of imperfect rhythm

Caresses tickling my back
My lips evade the blue trails
I find and nibble
At the shadow of your ear
One pull
I have you tethered to me
Writhing in pleasure

You moan...
A victorious blue glint
In my eye
The mark is made

Closer now, still closer
The thirst for you, more intense
Until the vortex breaks
And we tear apart
Until then...

Until when
Was it not about you?

The silhouettes have left the blue
Carrying a smear of the night
Blue is not the colour
Of eternal love
And love, I'm afraid,
Shies away from blue light...

In memory of tall stories.... ;-)

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Balance betrayed

And they fell....

Eyes shut tight
In prayer
That their faith be proved right

They let go....

Each
promising their terrified heartbeat
the relief of those familiar hands
on their back..soon...

Each
silently challenging
those hands to be there....

Together
they let go
and they fell
alone...

and they fell
apart....

A dying fire

They surround it
Sit around it
Wring their hands
Stamp their feet
"No warmth" they complain

"A dying fire"
Murmurs pass around

Disinterested
The blazing red
Smoulders the coal
Caresses the sleeping ashes
Meanders through cinders

Drunken
In its raw cannibal grace
It dances the taandav within

A prod of passion
An offering of soul
Wouldn't have evoked
A soaring flame,
Crackling sparks,
The sought warmth, even?

But no!
The blazing red
Croons its yearning
Stirred by its own scalding heat

"No warmth" they complain
"A dying fire"
Murmurs pass around...

For my cousin and my soul twin....both aquarians ;-D

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Ye tera ghar ye mera ghar...

Sigh! I turned on that sigh to see his hand make it's dramatic way to his heart. I had to turn away to suppress a grin...
Had this been a movie or a novel, that scraggly young man, in a dust-covered fake branded shirt and tight-fitting sequinned denims, would have come in my dreams that night. The circle of sawdust on his greasy brown curls would have been my halo, my sign that we were meant to be. Days of flirtatious glances and shy small talk would have culminated in a brutally passionate confrontation; and I would have helplessly confessed my undying love to him, before breaking down in the tight grip of his arms around me.
But no! What I would shudder to even call 'our' story, ended at my turning away to suppress a grin. I was left wondering about how even my grin wasn't in the least close to a blush! I was very brazenly grinning at how impossible it was for him to cross all social, economic and other barriers between us and have a friendly chat with me. I was grinning at his wasted gesture, at the fantasies he must have cooked up in his mind about us and their impossible distance from the truth. I was grinning at the smart talk and the laughs he would share with his co-workers during meals, about me, and the hopelessness of it. My shallow self was gloating at the differences in us on the basis of looks, status, language...
I wouldn't discriminate on these shallow grounds generally; because people who do so, are so narrow-minded and orthodox! Here, in this matter though, I shan't compromise. After all, this is love we are talking about.
Then, I very nearly have considered giving him a chance, when he stops chiselling at the ceiling of my room and turns to lock my eyes in a steady gaze for a few seconds. But then both of us turn away from each other, carrying a smile into our respective worlds. His smile as confident of the possibilities as mine is of the contrary! He shrugs and so do I... In an ideal world, I might have left behind an ashamed father, a devastated mother and a brother seething with a lifetime of hatred, to flee with him to some jungle in the mountains and cook for him in our tent, while he chops logs of wood.
But in reality, I am quite content munching away at biscuits I haven't baked, and approving his tools dancing away at the corners of my room; for who will leave the opportunity to live in the house that he is working on building??