As we grow older in love

As we grow older in love,
I realise how much you love me,
and then I realise how much I love you too. [As we grow older in love]

Sometimes I feel scared,
but whenever I do, I see your face in my heart....
[As we grow older in love].

Sometimes I feel like backing out,
but whenever I do, I can hear your words of love in my ears...
[As we grow older in love].

I know you shall never leave me,
and trust me, never will I
[As we grow older in love].

I prefer to walk alone,
but when you're with me, I feel as comfortable as I could with me
[As we grow older in love].

I prefer dark chocolate and strong coffee,
but when you're drinking tea I like it as amicably
[As we grow older in love].

I promise you my self,
I promise never to let you down.
Thank you for being in my life
[As we grow older in love].

Don't love me so

The moonlight shone on the glasspanes
Like your love shining in my eyes.
The wind caressed the shadows
Like your breath upon my neck.
The little kitten purred incessantly
Like your whispers in my ears.

Nature seems to plotting with you against me.
Don't love me so!

This night I want to be in your arms

This night I want to be in your arms,
Oh dear, don't say no.
This night, let my head find a rest
On your warm, heaving chest.

I would die in your arms, O love,
But for the songs I still hope to sing with you;
I would walk to the last road on Earth holding your hands,
But for the paths I could still traverse with you.

There's nothing so assuring
As the grip of your palm,
And nothing more endearing
Than a warm squeeze of your fingers.

Let me sleep in the hug of your arms,
Let me dream once more of your kiss,
Let me find my rebirth;
Let me find my home.

Two Reality Bytes

I.
Wake Up.
Wake Up.
Wake Up.
Do not snooze the alarms.
It's alarming.

Wake Up.
The call is Intense.
You cannot ignore it anymore.
No. You should not.


Wake Up.
The bells are tolling.
You will be next
To be eaten by the demon of laze.

Wake Up.
Before it is too late.

Wake Up.

Wake Up.

Wake Up...!

II.
Love songs.
Sugar.
Pepper.
Chocolate candies.
Pink ribbons.
Jalapenos.

The world is too sweet.
Let us pour chilli sauce
On your cake,
Darling.

Poems on a sleepless night

I.

The world is a big mistake.

God, you should not have trusted men so much.

Men, yes, men.

Because you made them first.

In your likeness, they say.

Are you serious, Lord?

Men are like you?

Then what are women like?

Your ribs?

Come on God, be serious.

What religion teaches us much such a joke.

II.

Every bit of the world’s oceans takes its place in me,

When my love for you starts flowing.

All their depths come together

As my love for you takes shape,

And rises into an eternal,

Immeasurable vessel

Where I store your being, your soul and your love.

My love,

How can I ever explain how much

and why I love you?

Like the earth that is cooled with a pour from the clouds,

My heart finds solace in you.

Like the tree that rejoices in the rains,

My body becomes alive with your touch.

Like alcohol that soothes the nerves,

Your words calm my troubled mind.

What else can I want from you, my love?

Hold my hands for ever,

And let my being find shelter in you.

Love me as I love you, my love.

Let me make you the happiest man alive.

III.

Did I say why I love you?

I think I know why.

Because I find my being in your eyes.

My heart in your throbs.

My thoughts in your mind.

My life in your breaths.

Should I say that again?

IV.

Every night I dream of the snake

That hisses but never bite.

One night, I woke from that nightmare,

Only to find that snake on the bed next to me.

When did you transmogrify, my dear?

V.

They say,

“A lot of water has flown under the bridge since we last met.”

I think,

“Why, because the bridge was stationary.”

What is better?

To be the bridge

Or the river?

I prefer the river,

But then,

Who wants to know my choices?

Every human must go on living

as decreed by his social circumstances.

If I say the society kills your life,

Dogs of the society bare their fangs at me.

I live like the bridge,

wanting to be the river,

and all the water keeps on flowing under the bridge.

Trust

I love the rains,
They soothe me so.
And when the rain clouds
Hovered above me,
Threatening to pour,
I laughed at them.

Bring it on, I said,
Unknowing of their plan for me.

I wish I did not trust the rains so much.

Now I am drenched as the soil beneath the river,
And the sun is nowhere to be seen.

Patients

Love demands appreciation,
It craves remuneration,
It asks to be given time,
It lives on constant attention.

Alas, my darling,
We have nothing for each other
except our sighs.
We are terminally ill patients of love.

സൂര്യോദയം

(Written in April 2005)

അര്‍ത്ഥശൂന്യമായ ദൃഷ്ടിയും കൊണ്ടവള്‍ മറ്റൊരു നാട്ടിലേക്ക് സഞ്ചരിക്കുന്ന സൂര്യനേയും നോക്കി നിന്നു. രാത്രി അടുക്കുകയാണ്. കറുത്ത വാവിന്റെ ഇരുള്‍ അവളെ എന്നും പേടിപ്പിക്കുമായിരുന്നു. രാത്രികളില്‍ ഉണര്‍ന്നിരുന്ന് ചന്ദ്രകാന്തിയില്‍ മുങ്ങി മുറ്റത്തെ പേരമരത്തിന്റെ ചുവട്ടില്‍ ഇരിക്കാനാണ് അവള്‍ക്കിഷ്ടം. പക്ഷെ വാവിന്റെ അന്ന് ചന്ദ്രന്‍ പോലും കൂട്ടിനില്ലാതെ ഒറ്റക്കിരിക്കാന്‍ അവള്‍ക്ക് ഭയം ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നു. പരീക്ഷകള്‍ അടുക്കുമ്പോള്‍ വാതില്‍ അടച്ചിരുന്നു ഒരിക്കലും അവള്‍ പഠിച്ചിട്ടില്ല. അച്ഛനോ അമ്മയോ കൂടെ ഇരിക്കും - ചോദ്യങ്ങള്‍ ചോദിച്ച്‌ പഠിക്കാന്‍ സഹായിക്കും. ആ പതിവ് ഹൈ സ്കൂളില്‍ എത്തിയപ്പോ മുതല്‍ അനിയത്തിയുടെ കൂടെ ആയി. രാത്രി അമ്മയുടെ കൂടെ ആയിരുന്നു കിടപ്പ് - അനിയത്തി വന്നതില്‍ പിന്നെ അവളുടെ കൂടെയും. ഒരു റൂമില്‍ ഒറ്റക്ക് ഒരിക്കലും ഇരിക്കേണ്ടി വന്നിട്ടില്ല - കല്യാണം കഴിയുന്ന വരെ.

കല്യാണം വളരെ മംഗളമായി തന്നെ നടത്തി. 500 - ഇല്‍ പരം വിരുന്നുകാര്‍, അസ്സല്‍ ദേഹണ്ഡം, ഹോട്ടല്‍ സാജ് ലുസിയയില്‍ reception; വീട്ടുകാരുടെ കീശയില്‍ വലിയൊരു ദ്വാരം വീണു എങ്കിലും ബന്ധക്കാരും സുഹൃത്തുക്കളും ഉല്ലസിച്ചു. പിന്നെ കെട്ടിയ കുടുംബമോ? ഗള്‍ഫില്‍ ജോലിയുള്ള പയ്യന്‍, കേമന്‍ നംബിയാര്‍ തറവാട്, ചെക്കന്‍ അച്ഛന്റെയും അമ്മയുടെയും ഒറ്റ മോന്‍ - വേറെ എന്താ വേണ്ടത്? പിന്നെയൊന്നും അച്ഛനമ്മമാര്‍ ആലോചിച്ചില്ല - മകളോട് ചോദിക്കണം എന്ന് പോലും. കല്യാണാലോചന നടത്തിയതോന്നും അവള്‍ അറിഞ്ഞില്ല. ഇപ്പോള്‍ ആലോചിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ആ കുരങ്ങന്‍ ചന്ദു മേസ്ത്രിയെ വേണം തല്ലാന്‍. അയാളാണല്ലോ ഈ ആലോചന കൊണ്ട് വന്നത്!

ഇല്ല. അവളുടെ ഭാര്തവവളെ അടിക്കുകയില്ല. കള്ള് കുടിച്ച്‌ വന്ന്‌ ബഹളം ഉണ്ടാക്കുന്ന പരിപാടിയും ഇല്ല. സൌന്ദര്യം കുറവാണെന്ന പ്രശ്നവും ഇല്ല - നല്ല സുന്ദരക്കുട്ടപ്പനാണ് ശ്യാം. അയാളുടെ പ്രശ്നം - ആള്‍ ഭയങ്കര സീരിയസാ. ഒന്നാമത് കൊല്ലത്തില്‍ പത്തു മാസം ഗള്‍ഫില്‍. എല്ലാ ആറ് മാസം കൂടുമ്പോള്‍ ഒരിക്കല്‍ വരും. ആ വരുന്ന കാലഘട്ടത്തില്‍ ഇവിടെയെല്ലാവര്‍ക്കും അയാളെ വേണം. ഭയങ്കര പരോപകാരിയാണ്‌. കൂടാതെ electrical engineer കൂടി ആയതു കൊണ്ട് കറണ്ടിന്റെ സ്വിച്ച് കേടുവന്നാല്‍ പോലും ആള്‍ക്കാര്‍ വിളിക്കുന്നത് ശ്യാമിനെ ആണ്. അനിലയ്ക്ക് ദേഷ്യം വരാറുണ്ട് - ശ്യാം വരുമ്പോള്‍ തന്നെ ആണല്ലോ എല്ലാവര്ക്കും ഓരോ ആവശ്യം വരുന്നത്!

ഒരിക്കല്‍ രണ്ടു പേരും മുറിയില്‍ അടച്ചിരുന്നു ശ്രിങ്കരിക്കുംബോളാണ് വിളി വന്നത്. ഒത്തിരി പാടുപെട്ടാണ് ശ്യാമിനെ ഒരു റൊമാന്റിക്‌ മൂഡില്‍ എത്തിക്കാന്‍ പറ്റുക. അതിന്റെ താളം തെറ്റിയാല്‍ തിരിച്ച കൊണ്ടുവരാന്‍ എന്ത് ബുദ്ധിമുട്ട് ആണെന്നോ. രാത്രികളില്‍ ആള്‍ അടുത്തുണ്ടെങ്ങിലും ദിവസം മുഴുവന്‍ ഓടി നടന്നു പണി ചെയ്തതിന്റെ ക്ഷീണം കാണും. ചെറുപ്പം മുതല്‍ സിനിമയില്‍ കാണുന്ന സുഖകരമായ പ്രണയവും കണ്ട് വളര്‍ന്ന അനിലക്ക് ഇതൊരു വലിയ നിരാശയായിരുന്നു. ഒരു ചുരുചുറുക്കമുള്ള സ്നേഹസമ്പന്നനായ ഭര്‍ത്താവിനെ സ്വപ്നം കണ്ടയാള്‍ക്കുണ്ടോ ഈ ഉള്ളിലൊതുക്കുന്ന സ്വഭാവം ഉള്‍കൊള്ളാന്‍ കഴിയുന്നു? പിന്നെ ഗള്‍ഫില്‍ പോയി കഴിഞ്ഞാല്‍ അവള്‍ റൂമില്‍ ഒറ്റയ്ക്ക്. കൊല്ലം രണ്ട് കഴിഞ്ഞിട്ടും പേടി മാറുന്നില്ല. രാത്രി കാലങ്ങളില്‍ ഉറക്കം തീരെ കുറഞ്ഞു. പിന്നെ ശ്യാം ഉള്ളപ്പോലും അതേ സ്ഥിതിയായി. എല്ലാവരും ചുറ്റുമുണ്ട് - അമ്മായിഅമ്മ, ചേട്ടന്‍, ചേട്ടത്തി, അവരുടെ മക്കള്‍; അവര്‍ക്കെല്ലാം അനിലയെ ഇഷ്ടവും ആയിരുന്നു. പക്ഷെ ഭര്‍ത്താവു കാണിക്കാത്ത സ്നേഹം മറ്റുള്ളവര്‍ തന്നാല്‍ മതിയോ?

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സമയം രാത്രിയായി. താരകങ്ങള്‍ അവളെ നോക്കി പുഞ്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. മഞ്ഞുകാല നിശയുടെ സംഗീതവും പേറി മന്ദം മന്ദം കുളിര്‍ക്കാറ്റു വീശിത്തുടങ്ങി. ആ കാറ്റിന്റെ വിരലുകള്‍ അവളെ സ്പര്‍ശിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ അവള്‍ ശ്യാമിനെ ഓര്‍ത്തു പോയി. ഇത് പോലൊരു മഞ്ഞുകാല സന്ധ്യക്കാണ്‌ അയാള്‍ അവളെ ആദ്യമായി ചുംബിക്കുന്നത്. കല്യാണത്തിന്റെ നാല് മാസം കഴിഞ്ഞ്. രണ്ട് പേരും വരാന്തയില്‍ ഇരുന്നു സോള്ളുകയായിരുന്നു. അവളുടെ വാചാലത കാരണം ശ്യാമിന് ഒന്നും പറയാനുള്ള അവസരം ലഭിക്കുന്നില്ലായിരുന്നു. അവള്‍ സംസാരിക്കുന്നതും നോക്കി ഇരിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു ശ്യാം. ഒടുവില്‍ ഒരു മന്ദഹാസം കൊണ്ടയാള്‍ അടുത്ത് വന്ന്‌ അവളുടെ കവിളില്‍ ഒരു കൊച്ചു മുത്തം കൊടുത്തു നാണം വന്ന പോലെ എണീറ്റ്‌ പോയി. ആദ്യമായിട്ടാണ് ഇങ്ങനെ. രാത്രി പോലും ഒന്ന് കെട്ടിപ്പിടിക്കാന്‍ മടിക്കുന്നയാല്‍. ഇങ്ങനെ നാണിച് ഉള്ളില്‍ പോകുന്ന ശ്യാമിനെ കണ്ടവള്‍ക്ക് ദയയാണ് തോന്നിയത്. എനിക്കിങ്ങനെ ഒരാളെ ആണല്ലോ കിട്ടിയത് എന്നോര്‍ത്ത് ആരോടെന്നില്ലാതെ അവള്‍ പഴിച്ചു.

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ഇന്നവള്‍ക്കൊരു സണ്ടോഷവും ദുഖവും കലര്‍ന്ന ഒരു മനസ്ഥിതിയാണ്. ഗള്‍ഫിലേക്കുള്ള അവളുടെ വിസ ശരിയായി. ഭാര്തവോതവല്‍ മണല്തിരകള്‍ നിറഞ്ഞ ആ നാട്ടിലേക്ക് പറക്കുകയാണ്. ആദ്യമായിട്ടാണ് ശ്യാമിന്റെ കൂടെ ഒരു സഞ്ചാരം - പോരെങ്ങില്‍ പുതിയ നാട്, പരിചയമില്ലാത്ത നാട്ടുകാര്‍, പുതിയ ഭാഷ - എല്ലാം കോഇ അവള്‍ക്ക് ഒരു ഭയം. അമ്മയുടെ പുന്നാര മകള്‍ക്ക് ആരുമില്ലാതെ കാര്യങ്ങള്‍ നടത്താന്‍ നല്ല പേടിയുണ്ട്. ഗള്‍ഫിലുള്ള പലവരുടെയും പേരും അഡ്രസ്സും അടുത്തുള്ളവര്‍ തന്നു വെച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്. മറുനാട്ടില്‍ ഒരു തുണക്ക് ആളുണ്ടാകുമല്ലോ.

പക്ഷെ അവളുടെ ആകങ്ക്ഷ അതിലും വലുതായിരുന്നു. ഇത് വരെ ശ്യാമിന്റെ വീട്ടുകരോത്ത)യിരുന്നതിനാല്‍ ഭര്‍ത്താവിന്റെ കുറ്റവും കുറവും അനുഭവപ്പെട്ടിരുന്നില്ല. അവളുടെ പ്രശ്നങ്ങള്‍ ശ്യാമും അറിയേണ്ടി വന്നിട്ടില്ല. ഇനി എല്ലാം ഒറ്റക്ക്... ഞങ്ങള്‍ രണ്ട് പേര്‍ മാത്രം... ആലോചിക്കാന്‍ തന്നെ വയ്യ. പക്ഷെ divorce നെ പറ്റിയൊന്നും ചിന്ടിക്കാന്‍ പറ്റില്ലല്ലോ. എന്ത് കാരണം പറയും...?

Luggage ന് clearance കിട്ടി കഴിഞ്ഞ് boarding pass -ഉം മേടിച്ചു അവര്‍ terminus -ലേക്ക് നടന്നു. യാന്ദ്രികമെന്ന പോലെ അവള്‍ സാമാനവും തൂക്കി പിടിച്ച് എന്തൊക്കെയോ ആലോചിച്ചു നടക്കാന്‍ തുടങ്ങി. പിന്നില്‍ അമ്മയും അമ്മായിഅമ്മയും ഒക്കെ കരയുന്നുണ്ട്. അവളുടെയും കണ്ണുകള്‍ നിറഞ്ഞു വരുന്നുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. പക്ഷെ ശ്യാമിന്റെ മുഖത്ത് ഒരു വികാരവും കാണുന്നില്ല. അവള്‍ക്കത്തില്‍ അത്ഭുതം തോന്നി. എല്ലാ പ്രാവശ്യവും ഗള്‍ഫിലേക്ക് തിരിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ വലിയ സങ്ങടം കാണുമല്ലോ. ഇപ്പൊ എന്താ ഇങ്ങനെ പതിവില്ലാത്ത ഒരു മൂകത?

വിമാനത്തില്‍ കയറി economy ക്ലാസ്സില്‍ നടുക്കത്തെ രണ്ട് സീറ്റില്‍ അവര്‍ കയറി ഇരുന്നു. അവള്‍ ജനലിനോട്‌ ചേര്‍ന്നുള്ള സീറ്റ്‌ എടുത്തു. സൂര്യന്‍ ഒരു ചുവന്ന nഗോളം പോലെ കിഴക്കേ ചക്രവാളത്തില്‍ ഉണരുകയാണ്. ഇത് അവളുടെ പുതിയ ജീവിതത്തിന്റെ തുടക്കം ആണ്. പ്രതീക്ഷകള്‍ ഉണ്ടാകുന്നതു ശരിയാണോ എന്നറിയാതെ അവളുടെ മനസ്സ് പിടഞ്ഞു. ശരിയാണ്. അമ്മ പറഞ്ഞ പോലെ അവളുടെ ഭര്‍ത്താവിന്റെ ഉള്ളു മുഴുവന്‍ സ്നേഹം ആണ്. അവളെ ശ്യാമിന് ഒരുപാട് ഇഷ്ടമാണ്. ഈ കഴിഞ്ഞ മൂന്നു കൊല്ലത്തില്‍ തന്റെ ആവശ്യങ്ങളില്‍ ഒരു കുറവും വരുത്തിയിട്ടില്ല. അവള്‍ ഷോപ്പിംഗ്‌ ന് പോകുമ്പോള്‍ കൂടെ പോരുന്നില്ലെങ്ങിലും "ആവശ്യത്തിനു കാശേടുതോ? ഇല്ലെങ്ങില്‍ ദാ" എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞു കാശെടുത്ത് തരും. എന്നാലും അനിലക്ക് ത്രുപ്തിയിലയിരുന്നു. ഭര്‍ത്ഹൃസ്നേഹത്തെ പറ്റി ഒരുപാട് സങ്കല്പിച്ചു കൂടിയിട്ടുണ്ട്, അതൊന്നും എളുപ്പം മാറ്റാനും ഒക്കുന്നില്ല. ങ്ങാ, ഇനി വരുന്നതൊക്കെ സഹിച്ചല്ലെ പറ്റു.

വിമാനം പറന്നുയര്‍ന്നു. അകന്നകന്നു പോകുന്ന സ്വന്തം നാടിനെ നോക്കി അവളൊരു നെടുവീര്‍പ്പിട്ടു. അപ്പുറത്തെ സീറ്റില്‍ ഒരു പെണ്‍കുട്ടി ഭര്‍ത്താവിന്റെ തോളില്‍ തല ചായ്തി കരയുന്നുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. അവള്‍ക്കും അങ്ങനെ സ്വന്തം മനസ്സിന്റെ ഭാരം ഒന്ന് ഇറക്കി വെയ്ക്കണം എന്നുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. പക്ഷെ എങ്ങനെ തുടങ്ങണം എന്നറിയില്ല. അപ്പോളാണ് ശ്യാം അവളുടെ നോട്ടം ശ്രദ്ധിക്കുന്നത് അവള്‍ കണ്ടത്. ആ ദമ്പതിമാരെ കണ്ടിട്ട് അയാള്‍ക്കും എന്ടോ തോന്നിയ മട്ടുണ്ട്. അനിലയുടെ മടിയില്‍ ഇരുന്ന അവളുടെ കൈയിന്റെ മുകളില്‍ അയാള്‍ സ്വന്തം കൈ വെച്ചു. അനില ഞെട്ടി ശ്യാമിനെ നോക്കി. ഒരു ചോദ്യചിഹ്നമെന്നു പോലെയുള്ള അവളുടെ നോട്ടം കണ്ടിട്ട് അയാള്‍ക്ക് ചിരി വന്നു.

"പേടിക്കണ്ട. ഇനി നമുക്കൊരു പുതിയ ജീവിതം തുടങ്ങാം. നീയും ഞാനും നമുക്കുണ്ടാകാന്‍ പോകുന്ന കുഞ്ഞും മാത്രം. വീട്ടില്‍ എല്ലാവരുടെയും മുമ്പില്‍ വെച്ചു നിന്നോട് ശ്രിങ്കരിക്കാന്‍ മടിയായിരുന്നു എപ്പോളും. അവിടെ എല്ലാവര്ക്കും ഞാന്‍ ഒരു ഗൌരവക്കാരന്‍ ആണ്. അത് അങ്ങനെ തന്നെ ഇരിക്കട്ടെ. പിന്നെ ഭാര്യ ആളെ മാറെടുത്തു എന്നൊന്നും കേള്‍ക്കണ്ടല്ലോ. പക്ഷെ ഇനി നമ്മള്‍ ചെല്ലാന്‍ പോകുന്നയിടത് എനിക്കൊരു hero ഇമേജ് ആണ്. അതാനെനിക്കും ഇഷ്ടം. നിന്നെയും അത് സന്തോഷിപ്പിക്കും എന്നെനിക്കറിയാം."

ഇത്രെയും പറഞ്ഞ് ശ്യാം അനിലയുടെ നെറ്റിയില്‍ ചുംബിച്ചുകൊണ്ട് കൈകള്‍ ഭദ്രമായി പിടിച്ചു. അവളുടെ ചുണ്ടിലൊരു ചിരി വിടര്‍ന്നു - കണ്ണുകളില്‍ ആനന്ദാശ്രുക്കള്‍ നിറഞ്ഞു. ഉയര്‍ന്നു വരുന്ന സൂര്യന്‍ അവളുടെ സന്തോഷത്ല്‍ പങ്കു ചെരുയാനെന്നു തോന്നി. ഹാവും നിരാശയുടെ അന്ധകാരം മാച്ച് ആശയുടെ വെളിച്ചവും കൊണ്ട് സൂര്യന്‍ അവളെ സമീപിക്കുന്ന പോലെ അവള്‍ക്ക്‌ തോന്നി. ശ്യാമിന്റെ തോളില്‍ ചാരി അവള്‍ കണ്ണടച്ചു.

Cannot write more

I cannot write any more.

I thought I told you this before,
But yes, I write for you.

I write of you,
of your thousand lovable gestures,
of your million quirks and faults,
of your innumerable thoughts and dreams.

They blamed me for writing only of love,
of an emotion well abused;
But they did not know it was inspired by you.

If they did,
they might have worshipped you, my muse.

And now,
You have gone away from my life
to find a way of your own;
Be a muse to someone else,
in some other way -
I know not what.

I thought I could find another muse,
and write on.

They came and went,
but failed to inspire,
to arouse me to a climax of poetry
that you so easily managed.

I still stare at your age-worn photograph
and try to write.
But,
I cannot write any more.

More love poems

I. Soft hands
When you first touched my hands
You said they were soft as a pillow
And kissed the palm as if it were a bud of rose.

Yesterday when I caressed your face
You turned away from me
Muttering, “Use some cream.”

I looked at my withered hands
And found scales and scars and wounds
Of fifty years of love.

II. In Love
Everyone said you and I were in love.

I laughed at them,
You scorned them.

Yet I buried my dreams in your smell,
You bathed in the radiance of my smile.

You and I
Were not to be chained by
Social labels and mores.
But we never realized
How chained we were
By hearts and souls.

Nights were a reason to wake up to make your brunch,
Days were a reason to enter the depths of my locks.

We still denied we were in love.
"We just need each other,"
We reiterated,
In the hope of convincing ourselves.

One morning,
She came in with a bubbly laugh and a cheery face,
Made your eggs and your bed,
Said she loves you,
and took you away.

All I did was gawp after you.
We were not to be chained by
Social labels and mores.
And we are not in love.

I laughed again.

They called it so

A vague little glee, And they called it Love. A tense little moment And they called it Fear. A slight anxiety And they called it Stress. A mere numbness And they called it Death.

What's wrong?

For some, I’m born at the wrong place,

For some, the time is wrong;

For others, my birth is too late,

For more, my family is wrong.

In the end I wake up from nightmares

And look into the mirror.

There too, I find the wrong reflection.

My Love Is A Cat

My love is a cat,

Waiting to pounce upon you as you enter my life.

Its curiosity is a killer,

Its fearlessness a danger.

Ajit’s dilemma

(July 2010)

‘What can be said of a man who loves a woman and is loved by another? That he is a lucky bastard. That he can have his cake and eat it too. And that he definitely is the most laid person around me.’

“Quit mocking my situation, Rahul. This is serious. I don’t know what to do. I love Suma. I really do. But I care a lot for Sahana. I can’t seem to let go of her. I need her as much as I need Suma. And I know that’s not right. I mean, I’m not doing full justice to any of us three in the process, right?”

“Ajit, you are reading too much into the situation. I think you should just enjoy the liberty you have right now and just, you know, go with the flow,” Rahul took a drag from his cigarette. “Bloody lucky bastard, I’d say. I haven’t had a single girl after me, nor have I felt real true love for anyone,” he sighed.

“You are damn too rational about this. But somehow I can’t, and I am going with the flow, if you haven’t yet noticed. But I feel terrible about it sometimes. I feel like I’m cheating myself, Suma as well as Sahana. I don’t want to do it, but I end up doing it, and then…”

“Cut the crap, dude. I’m damn sleepy right now. What I don’t understand is why you start all this right after two drinks, and spoil my fun too. Blah! Good night, and happy thinking!” Rahul turned on the bed and went to sleep. Ajit was left wondering to himself.

* * *

“Sahana, please, try and understand. I cannot, I am not able to fall in love with you. Don’t push me so hard. I’ll give up. I’m already under too much pressure.”

“Aji you just… don’t understand. No, you refuse to accept me for some stupid prejudice of yours. ‘You’re not the right woman for me.’ What nonsense! Tell me one woman who has understood you and your needs so well and supported you on everything. You go on saying true love is loving the person who loves you, and when such a person is there for you, you don’t want to accept that. I’m just so exasperated. I love you so dearly that I can’t give you up so easily. I don’t know what to call our relationship. I have done so much for you, and you don’t want to acknowledge that and…”

“Please don’t tell me I don’t acknowledge your love or things you do for me. I really really appreciate all that and I have always told you that. But I cannot fall in love with you. You don’t evoke that special feeling in me. You make me comfortable, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and you’re awesome in bed… but that doesn’t make love, please try to understand,” his voice was getting more and more gruffy. “And, I’m warning you, if you want to keep testing my limits, let us cut off this relation right away. Let us be just good neighbours and leave each other alone.”

“That’s nothing less than threat, and Mr Ajit Prasad, I’m not gonna take that from you. No one tells me what to feel and how!” Sahana picked up her bag and got up. “But one final word. I love you more dearly than life itself, and you can’t change that.” And she walked off, leaving Ajit with his head between his hands.

* * *

“Do you want a coffee? I’m gonna grab a cup…”

“Yeah sure. Do you have a smoke too?”

Sahana’s laughter rang in her bedroom. “What, post-coital cigarette, eh?”

Ajit laughed too. “If you wanna call it by such a technical name, fine!”

“There, on the shelf. The lighter’s next to it, and the ash-tray is under the bed. I’ll make the coffee.”

Ajit’s phone rang. It was Suma.

“Sahana, don’t speak, okay? It’s Suma calling.”

“Oh yeah, I’m not here, you’re not with me. Understad, understand, sir.” She laughed again, and went into the kitchen.

“Yeah, tell me honey. What’s up?”

* * *

“So, what do you think?”

“Yeah, suits you, but you can look much better.”

“This is the best I could do. I wasn’t ready to go for complete colouring. I thought this light burgundy shade looked charming. And you give such a lukewarm response!” Sahana cried.

“Honey, honey, you look awesome. I just said you have more potential! You’re a very charming woman, and I want people to know that. Come on, I’m buying you some funky attire. How about trying out the new stuff at Lifestyle? Laika was saying there are some trendy things there. Might suit you.”

“Okay okay. Whatever you say.”

“Listen, it’s not about you obeying me here, okay? It’s about getting you a light makeover. Just a touch-up, actually, but something that’ll make you stand out in the crowd.”

“Makeover, yeah that’s right,” she smiled. “I love you, Aji. I love you so much.”

Aji returned the smile. “Let’s go, my pretty pie. Hop on to the bike.”

* * *

“Suma, you’re sure we’re doing the right thing? I mean, isn’t this too sudden for you? You haven’t even got over Vasishth yet… and then marrying me… you know how I am situated. With Sheela’s studies still going on and mom down in the hospital every month, I don’t know if I can…”

“Ajit, I am not worried about the finances. I have a good amount of savings, and of course I’ll work after marriage too. I have no issues with you giving off all your salary at your home. And then about Vasu. The earlier I forget him the better. Don’t worry I’m not using you as a rebound. I actually want to settle down with you. You’re the one for me, I’m convinced. I want to know if you are fine. Anyone you’re involved with, or anything that doesn’t appeal to you? I mean, do you think I’ll be good enough for you?”

“Oh God, listen to you talk! I… listen, I know I never told you, but… but I love you. With all my heart. I can die for you. You tell me when do you want me to come and meet your mother?”

“Aji… you’re such a sweetheart. Make that this weekend. I assume there won’t be any problem from your side?”

“Not at all. My mother’ll be happy to hear I chose you. She’s always been a little partial to you among all my female friends.”

“Oh!” Suma blushed. “Very nice, my future husband, then drop the call for now. I have work at eight in the morning, and oh my God, it’s two a.m. now! Sleep, sleep, sleep, idiot!”

“Hahaha… okay Sumi. Good night. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Aji.”

* * *

“So you’ve made the final choice now.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no going back?”

“There is no need to. Not for me.”

“And what about me?”

“You already know I’m never going to marry you and give you a life you dream of. I have made that quite clear many times, I’m sure.”

“Yes you have, definitely. You and I are together on a ‘no-strings-attached’ basis. And all that only because I, the bloody fool, am in love with you. Ever occurred to you that you could be just taking advantage of me?”

“Fuck you, Sana. I thought we already discussed this. I am not in love with you. But I can’t let go of you. You are more than a friend, much more. I need you like the water I drink eight times a day. You said you understand that. You said you wouldn’t accuse me of using you. You said you’ll be okay. Damn it, Sana!”

Sahana broke down. “Okay, sorry sorry. I am sorry. It’s just that sometimes I just snap. I don’t know what I’m saying. Or rather, it all comes out in bitterness, and then it’s over, and then… I don’t understand. We make such an awesome pair. Why not?”

“Because I love Suma. More than I care for you. She’s the one for me, Sana. You and I are a mismatch. You’ll realize it when you get over your obsession.”

… Sahana was crying bitterly. Ajit made no attempt to soothe her. He walked over to the shelf and took out a cigarette and sent swirls of smoke up at the fan in her bedroom. Then he picked up his clothes and went into the bathroom. She looked after him, gave out a long sigh and wiped her tears. In front of the mirror, she felt her face. She started out as if she was beginning to cry, but suddenly smiled. “Not so easily, not so soon. I know he’ll be back. He and I cannot stay off each other, I know it. This chapter’s not closing so easily, honey. I am not losing my love any sooner.”

* * *

“What is Sahana’s PAN card doing in your laptop bag?”

“Oh that? She gave it to me so I can fill in her bank form when I go there tomorrow. She doesn’t stay in Nashik, remember?”

“Then can’t she come down and do it herself some other day? Why do you have to do it for her?”

“Suma? What’s wrong with you? I keep doing odd chores for her anyway!”

“Stop doing that now. She’s not a baby. Let her handle her own things. She wants to take you with her for shopping, she wants your opinion on the dress she’s bought, she buys little nothings for you from everywhere she goes… I think she’s in love with you.”

“Oh Suma, you don’t know her for as many years as I do, that’s why. Or wait… you’re being jealous! Suma!”

“I know, I know, we spoke about this. You have a hefty lot of female friends, and I have to get used to it. But Sahana seems different from your other friends. I don’t like the feeling she gives me when we three are together.”

“Come on, give that girl a chance. You just met her once. You’re being…”

“You are being defensive about her. I don’t like that too.”

Ajit looked at her. He moved forward to hug her, but she shrugged it off.

“Pack your bags fast, mister. The bus is at 9.”

* * *

It wasn’t a small gathering. Sahana’s friends, collegemates, professors and schoolteachers, the nuns and fathers from her orphanage. Ajit sat in a corner, as if set in stone. One of her professors walked up to him.

“Ajit? I’m Naseema. Sahana used to refer to you as her local guardian. It is so unfortunate. I mean, a road accident… very very unlucky, poor girl. Her parents died in the same way. She was saved in that accident. Only to die in another one, 24 years later…. The Lord has his own ways…”

“Yes ma’am. He has. She was a lovely girl. Thanks for your condolences. Can you please write something about her on that golden sheet over there? She wanted me to maintain a scrap of writing from all those who attend her most important ritual after 24. She wanted it to be the wedding, but… thanks.”

The lady moved off, unsure of how to take the bluntness in Ajit’s voice. Rahul came around to him, noticing his stone-cut look.

“Listen, take it easy. It’s not your fault. She’s made it clear in her letter, right? She couldn’t get over you, she was incapable of moving on. There’s no point in you dejecting over…”

“Shut up, Rahul. You’ve always been very pragmatic. I cannot be. She chose to die with my memories rather than give me up. She bloody took that accident on her because she realized Suma didn’t like her being friends with me. She couldn’t let go of me. She fucking loved me like no one ever did. And I couldn’t give it to her. I couldn’t even make her feel better. Maybe I contributed to make her feel like a slut. ‘No strings attached’, my foot! There were strings all over the place, and all of them were invisible. I fucking took a long time to realize that. I had too much on my dish and I couldn’t clear it up sooner. It is my fault, damn it!” His voice resonated in the silent hall. Everyone turned to look at him. He sat down quietly again.

“Go sign the sheet, Rahul. She’d love to know what you think of her. Do write what you always used to say – ‘you’re bloody lucky Ajit. She’s so fucking pretty.’”

‘What can you say of a man who loved two women at the same time and could never decide whom to keep and whom to wave goodbye to? That he was confused. That he should have made a strong decision sooner. That he shouldn’t have waited till one of his women died. That, my friends, is the tragedy of the bitch called love.’

* * *

Sally’s weekend

(June 2010)

Most of my weekends are spent waiting for someone to remember me. Meanwhile, I wander about the house, or my little cosy garden, tidying their little corners and searching for pending work. Usually, Rachel might call and say she wants to go out shopping or pay up some bills. Whether I have some work outdoors or not, I tag along. She seems to derive some comfort talking to me about the house, the people, the works. I let her babble on, as my eyes wander along the roads, shopping malls and restaurants. There are families, children, couples, college students, boys, girls, middle-aged people, oldies - all around with someone or the other they trust and like. Rachel and I like each other’s company. We have similar interests in conversation. We have common topics to chat about.

And when she’s not in town or if she’s doing that weekend shift at work, I am alone again. I wait for someone to call. There’s Anaita, or James, who could call. Or I wait for someone to send me a text message. Why didn’t Charlie, Amelia or Stanley remember me yet? I watch a movie, listen to some songs, cook somthing. Stare at the mobile every third minute. No. No one’s called. There’s no text either. Nobody remembers me yet.

Finally boredom overtakes my self-respect, and I text Stanley. “Hey, what’s up?” Immediately comes the reply: “Oh darling, I was just thinking of you. The weather’s so romantic. Shall I come over? Are you free?” I am disgusted. I reply: “Oh boy, no dear, I’m not at home actually. Travelling to the grandpa’s. So sorry sweets. Catch you later!” No reply from the other side. Opportunists.

I call Harris. His phone’s engaged. I don’t have much hopes about him returning the call. So finally, I stop seeking out the men and decide to check on what my girlfriends are up to. Amelia picks the call and says: “Hey sweetheart, my dad’s given me some work. I got to finish it today. I’ll call you back by evening?” All right, all right, busybee.

I don’t have the courage for more rejections. I feel dejected. And I get back to the garden and the house. There is no lack of work around, but I keep wishing there was someone to help me out. I wait for 48 hours. And a new working week begins. Until another weekend looms. Until another 48 hours of waiting….

Me and my books

The books I read every night,
Once came to life upon my bed.

The Tagore collection hummed melodiously,
The Sherlock Holmes fidgeted restlessly,
And Tinkles jumped about enthusiastically.
The Kamala Das stories came to rest in my lap,
The PG Wodehouse wanted a ride on my back
And the Ruskin Bond beckoned me to play carrom.

My quiet room was suddenly cacophonic,
Leaving me baffled.

I picked up the Holmes and gave it some tobacco,
Lent my mp3 player to Tagore;
Rested Das on my teddy bear,
Gave Bond to my kitten;
Put Tinkle in the cage with my birds,
And laid Wodehouse on the swing.

Finally, they lost their energy
And allowed me to sift through them,
Agreeing to share their knowledge and pleasure, joys and sorrows.

I held them to my bosom and slept peacefully again.

I.
"Leech!" She shouted at her,
"You're living on stolen blood."
"It's love, madam,
not stolen, but borrowed."
"Yes, he lends it to you
out of pity,
But that is due to me,
Hence you are but a lowly thief!"
And with that she branded me.

II.
Imposing skyscrapers
wrought in iron and glass,
gobble up suited-and-booted people every morning
and spew them out like vomit by twilight.
These suits and boots and skirts and heels
go on in a clatter,
unaware of their repeated
Ingestion, Digestion and Excretion.

III.
The fly in my hand
wiggled like a maggot
clipped of her wings.
And I, the sadist,
laughed of the tickle from her hairy body
on my soft palm.

Everyone's poems

I.
Tears hijacked his dreams,
Fear overtook love.
In rotating ceiling fans
And rolling hips of dancers,
He searched for them both.

II.
I sold myself to the wrong people,
The wrong people solicited my souls.
Amid a flurry of wrongs,
My heart set out to claim some rights.

III.
The blue veins shone through her fair skin,
And the knife in her hand glistened.
The brightness of the red spilled
Was also never disputed.

IV.
Rheumatism, Arthritis, Blood pressure, Insomnia;
There was no ailment she was not proud of.

V.
Inhale,
Exhale,
Dust, smoke, CO2, NO and a little oxygen.
The human is contented.

VI.
There's nothing to cry for in grief -
Too common, Too plebian, Too low.
There's nothing to laugh in glee -
Too fickle, Too smug, Too depraved.
The saint sought them all in saffron,
And God.
Amen.

Her and me (and sometimes him)

NOTE: It is quite fascinating to imagine a third person between two - be it friends, lovers or even parents or siblings. My imaginations of the same produce the following poems, and some before that [You and I (and sometimes another)]. Some of the imagery may be repetitive, but feel the grip of that invisible third person as you read these. Enjoy!

I.
Every time I look for him, she comes before me.
Every time I think of him, her memory becomes vivid.
Every time he talks to me, she sneers from behind his shoulder.
I am shadowed by her ghost that lives with him.

II.
She doesn't need to be called,
She doesn't need to be known,
She doesn't need a name,
She doesn't need no fame:
I know it is her, and she knows it is me,
And there begins the story of her, me and him.

Followed

The lurking shadows,
The eerie sounds,
The mysterious scuffles,
The entombing silence -
Nothing but myself hounds me.

Secret Palimpsest

A secret,
multi-layered,
lies in my bosom.

Its layers, all there, but not-so-there,
Like a palimpsest,
It attracts all audience,
And gives new meanings to all.

Everyone can have a layer to take with them,
And all can be satisfied.
But only I know the volume of its inscriptions,
And unaware to them,
Decide what layers they are served.

I make meanings for them,
I complete their understanding,
And yet they gloat at what they learnt,
And yet they pride at each possessed layer.

My secret shall be entombed
In my selective memory
In the absyss of my mind
And the chambers of my heart -
You shall see a part
And like the blind feeling the elephant,
Be happy with what you know.

The Smells We Live By

It's the smells we live by.

A whiff of wet earth,
fertile like the ready-to-receive-you woman on the bed inside,
Drive you towards her smell.
And when you awake
from a dream full of sighs, moans and orgasmic raptures,
It's the smell of cigarettes you seek.

Or, maybe it's coffee and tea that calms you,
and, along with Coorgie fragrances or Assamese delights,
A little of strong eucalyptus,
Or the light menthol-tainted Vicks
can soothe your throbbing head.

Late evening,
And the unassailable-but-attacking breeze
from the kitchen
Tells your stomach it's time.
Ravenous smells -
of jaggery, spices and more -
Gobble you up in a frenzy.

You walk along the road,
And penetrating wasps of grey air
tell you how crowded the city is.
Choking, wheezing, strangling smokes
of vehicles, burning tobacco, construction gravel and roting garbage
Leads you on to find your space within.

In your office,
The stagnant AC-ed air,
carrying the breath-odour of your colleagues,
Their sweat and saliva and semen-smells,
Their cologne and perfumes and deodorants,
Mingle with yours
and settle down upon the fabric of your life,
Uncomplainingly.

It's the smells that we live by.

An eternal tale

A long folk-tale is my life,
Re-embellished with each narration,
Re-tarnished with each vituperation -

A long ceaseless ballad,
An epic of gargantuan passions,
No scale to measure,
No depth to unravel -

Curved around each letter,
Hanging on to each word,
A blood-sucking leech,
A slimy slug,
An itchy caterpillar -

A tale of fantasy,
Of repulsion,
Of monstrous proportions -

Meted out in scoopfuls,
To prisoners within my tale,
Thus turning them cannibal,
And becoming a phoenix, a self-creator.

A long folk-tale is my life,
And I shall live in the words as much as in breath.

Thank You Poetry

When smiles are aplenty,
Words always fail me.
I have a lot to thank you for,
O Poetry,
And a lot to apologize too.

You have shown fortitude
As I shed my depressions upon you,
Used you to bludgeon my frustrations,
And pounded you to free my repressions.

You stood by me
As I watched friends go away,
Dreams shatter, and
Life flow away in a stream's chatter.

I gave you no form,
No rhyme, No reason,
No colour,
No body -
And yet you embodied my soul.

Thank you, O Poetry.
You are my alter ego.