A Bit Like Love

I hit the loop button too often.
They say, you can play songs on shuffle too
You know, to discover something new
For a change
Why the same song
Over and over again

I’ve read The God of Small Things
Nearly forty seven times by now
Yet every time Ammu promises to Velutha
Naaley, tomorrow, I know I’ll return again
I laugh
Despite every other book
Why the same pages
Over and over again

I visit the same cafe
Every two weeks
If possible, the same table
The same old sandwich
The same mundane mojito
They laugh,
There are other places too, you know
Try something new
Why the same place
Over and over again

I never answered
But oh, the irony of monotony!
The security in the routine
The desire to keep going back
This unquenched feeling
This is all I have

A bit like love
A lot like home
Coming back each day
To the same sandpaper hands
To the same little nothings you say.
Seven grand continents
One hundred and ninety five funny countries,
But for every next breath
For every next song
For every dimly lit cafe
For every day of my life
For as long as I can
You, on loop,
Over and over again.

Beginnings

IMG_20181022_170813_BokehI laugh at you when you ask,
“Isn’t it a bit weird for a year to end on a Monday?
Like an ending performing a waltz with a beginning?”
I tell you, maybe it’s always been that way.
Because beginnings are a bit unexpected,
Beginnings are kind of subtle.
Beginnings sound a lot like
Your mother’s voice on the phone,
When you are nine hundred miles
Away from home.
Beginnings sound a lot like your first laughter
After you’ve been crying for seventy two hours.
Beginnings are like the Mondays on which
A year of three hundred and sixty five days ends,
Beginnings are the days you wake up to
Despite having wished you wouldn’t have to.
Beginnings are like picking that half read book
After four years
And starting it all over again.
Beginnings are like the new favourite song
For which you stop humming the previous one.
Beginnings are like walking away,
Like breaking away,
Like no longer waiting for an old lover
To walk in through that door.
Beginnings, I tell you, are at times
As tragic as endings;
And sometimes, even more.

Unsaid

She could’ve added melody to your discordant notes

And could’ve been the song that takes you home.

She could’ve been your certainty

When all else went astray,

Been the creased photograph

to fill your empty frame.

But so much has remained unsaid for so long-

Time sent a gust of wind,

Yet the flame of fondness was never doused.

Only your words have learned

to hold on effortlessly

To the corners of your mouth.

Anwesha

17/9/2018

Repose

IMG_20180622_211016_271I saw you in a quiet corner,
Away from the music, away from the laughter.
I walked up to you and asked
If it was Nietzsche on your mind,
For that’s the you I had known all along-
All nihilistic and dry.
But to my surprise, “A bit of Neruda,” was your reply.
I asked, “So, tonight you can write the saddest lines?
And I knew you could, when you looked away and smiled.
And there, away from the music, away from the laughter,
I found my repose, a calming shelter.
Let me have the burden of pretentious happiness off my shoulders,
I won’t let my reality lean on lies any longer.
Tonight I need no wisdom.
I need no reason for my being.
Let me just look into your eyes
And find a moment’s peace,
For, love, this world is a bit too loud for me.

Vigil

In a maze of fear-drenched words,
In a heart of hushed up love,
In a rhymeless poem,
And in a fragile shell,
Lies stagnant and still
A dwindling vigil.

Often forgetting itself,
Often revealing itself;
Stiffening itself against the storms,
Mending the strings already torn,
There it lies stagnant and still
An inane and dwindling vigil.

Looking Back

backI never want to, and yet I look back,

I hate it so, and yet I look back,

I know not what I yearn for, I just keep looking back,

I know not who’s looking ahead, I just look back.

Long forgotten, long forgiven,

All the pictures faded away,

But it’s only me, that keep looking that way.

Well, who’d know my plight,

Who’d know why I decide

To let go of all bans,

And just desperately keep looking back…

A Bit Beyond

As another year steps in, and once again we pretend to prepare ourselves for a ‘new beginning’, to revive ourselves, reform ourselves and accomplish all that we couldn’t, just because the earth has completed one revolution round the sun and will start another, I just want to share a thought, a message, maybe or rather something to ponder about and execute if at all it makes some impact.

All things on the surface,

All emotions on the outside,

All words just as traced,

All shown, nothing to hide-

Could that ever be?

Is that how it is?

 

All pain may not be pain indeed,

Maybe some unnamed joy underneath.

All joy may not be joy indeed,

Maybe some aching secret deep within.

Could that ever be?

Is that how it is?

 

Is life really not what it seems?

Is an illusion the food for our beliefs?

Failing forever to probe within,

Are we forever dangling with blind conceit?

Is there amongst all men, some other bond,

Which we’d probably find, if we looked a bit beyond?