I Love You

For the world may not care,
And the seasons might not stop,
And the rivers could keep flowing,
And the song in my mind,
The song in my mind,
That could keep playing,
And those words you said,
Those would keep ringing,
And come back to me every single night,
This one thing,
I cannot lose,
Or simply put,
I cannot afford to,
For the world may not care,
And the lights keep turning,
From red to green to yellow to red,
And people may think,
That within my heart I’m dead,
But you know,
And that’s all that matters.
For people might hate me,
And I couldn’t care lesser,
And the world could loathe me,
I wouldn’t bat an eye,
But you over there,
Standing in the shadows,
Never turn away,
Or I might die,
For I love you,
And that’s the only truth.

The Parting

Always there is something. There is something that makes you take a step back even when you’re absolutely sure the only way to do it is by going forward. There is this feeling somewhere deep down in my gut and although I knew this day was to come, now that it is here I would have liked it to never come at all. For today we part, and that is the only thing that I do not want in my life. No, don’t get me wrong, I do not want you in my life such as being there forever for I know that is entirely not possible. But just for the sake of the moment, let us assume I could have had you forever, which is very absurd because that is not what I want, indeed, I do not want that and you must believe me for in this moment if you don’t then in the very next moment I won’t believe myself either for this is it, this is the last straw on the camel’s back. I know you aren’t here today, and it is just a mere coincidence, but what would I give to just see you one last time?

You know what, I have always thought friends are friends and nothing else and that there can be no reason to feel sad or happy about it for friends are just friends and they are just people and people are meant to come into your life and go away just like the days and nights and new mornings and seasons and fashionable clothes. But you, why did you come, you knew that this was not forever, I told you that on the very first day; you know I had to go, you knew this was not forever, I told you so, yet somehow what happened? Now that you aren’t here when I am going, and by the time you will be back I won’t be here; isn’t that just great, because I am sure I would have become teary-eyed at the last moment and all the drama that I have put up about being a stoic and not feeling anything would have gone to waste.

Always there is something. There is something that you have of me. A part of me to be precise. No this is not a love note, and I don’t want to tell you that I love you for I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved and I loathe myself for that for I can never become what I want to, and that is because you are not what you are and I am not what I am and this world is not what it should be for us but what do I care and what do you care? I could give up entire worlds for your smile but I do not know now that the moment is here if I will see you anymore. Will I? I really hope I do for you right now, mean everything to me. I have never known a passion so raw, and I have already loved many and have been hated by many and put down by others and thrown out by more and kicked out by lots and spit upon by the rest and yet I have been loved by some as well and yet this is entirely different and I know you wouldn’t understand what I mean for this is not what I have shown you I am.

Oh, the night draws close and I close my eyes and I can only see your face and your smile covers my entire brain like a blanket; oh what should I do now? I desperately want to get rid of your thoughts, no don’t get me wrong but I need to live and to live I need to breathe but your thoughts are suffocating me like water filled up to the brim of the buckets which might overflow even on the slightest movement. Oh how disjointed my thoughts are, what am I saying? Did I just confess my undying love for you? If I did, consider that a lie, because I didn’t intend to and I don’t want to, and I don’t want you to know that I love you, because in fact I don’t love you, or at least not as much as you are worthy of or as much as I am capable of. This is an unfinished story. I want to write more. I want you to read more, but I don’t know if this story will ever reach a proper end. This time it ended so abruptly. Oh no, I will definitely come back, come back to you, and give this a proper end. For I cannot live with this thorn in my heart which pricks me in the night and my heart bleeds and blood fills my gut and yet you can’t see for what man can see inside another when both are so parted away?

Lost

This is a story of all I’ve lost,
All those who believed in me once,
All those who I thought
Would stay here forever.
All those who were my people.
My people.

But there’s a river always,
And there’s the other bank,
And I’ve seen you go to the other side,
And there are beliefs there too.
Yet I’ll come there sometime,
If I’m strong enough,
To fight against the currents,
And to fight against the odds.

But what’s in store for tomorrow,
Nobody knows,
And the clocks go tick-tock tick-tock,
And I keep losing my faith,
And my people,
And they lose their faith,
And me,
An endless cycle.

But all’s not lost, there is a ray of hope,
Shining from behind the clouds,
Which cloud my mind presently,
Making me unable to see what’s across it,
Whether it’s a silver lining,
Or are there endless clouds,
Hiding the sun, my source of energy,
I don’t know,
And nobody can tell me, unless they go.

This is a story of all those who I have lost,
To love.
Because sometimes,
Love is a poison,
One which comes back to get you,
To destroy you, and to harm you forever.
Memories hit me,
Like cold gales lashing across my face,
Of things that had best remain unsaid,
That had best remained undone,
But were done, in the moment,
Not foreseeing the future,
And here I lie, in despair,
Thinking about it without a course.

And there are others that I’ve lost,
To time.
For time is like sand, forever slipping between fingers,
No matter how hard you close your fist,
People, memories, happiness, friends,
Dwindle out.
Like the candle, having served it purpose,
Reduces to wax, and a part of it,
Forever stuck to the floor,
Like memories,
The memories of my people.

I’ve lost people, and I’ve lost time,
But that’s not all,
I’ve lost memories, so many of them,
In a chest full of gold and other treasures,
But someone robbed me of it,
In a dream one night,
And I have never found them again.
I’ve lost dreams,
He came one night, and told me so,
That dreams were only for those,
Who had their memories safe and sound,
But I had lost them.
I’ve lost wishes, which I had saved,
To demand of a genie should I find one,
But he came in the midst of a night,
And told me he wouldn’t grant me any,
‘Cause wishes were given to only those,
Who had big dreams, and I had lost them.

But lost things may yet be found,
Like toys of a child hidden in the cupboard,
And some day when I rush across,
The pages of time,
I might catch one at the end of a page,
Waiting, sitting there, just like me,
Trying to look out for those she’s lost.

Return – Chapter 1

As I sat there, watching the black of the sky fade into deep maroon, the sun rising between the clouds, more crimson than ever, and watched it light the sky into an orange, the chirps of the sparrows, and the caws of the crows who had left their nests already, the alarm in my watch buzzed. It was five in the morning, the iron bench on which I sat still cold, drops of dew settled on it, and on my coat, and the sun slowly started hiding behind the clouds, turning the sky into a black, and in a few minutes, the drizzle came upon me. The grass looked greener than ever, as if it rejuvenated in the morning mist and rain, the dogs running back into their shelters where they slept, and the road in front of me, empty. Only after the drizzle had stopped did I see old couples back on the road, some walking, and in some, one pushing the other around on a wheelchair. A guy in a raincoat rode a bicycle, had roses to sell, and newspapers too, but the papers were all wet already, and he didn’t have anything to protect them from the rain. He reminded me of a time long before, when I used to see someone else exactly this way, only the face was different, rest everything same. Or was the face same too? I didn’t remember. It was six o’ clock then, when I rose from the bench, and smiled at the guy who had been sitting beside me for the past two hours, never making an introduction, never saying a word. It was better that way, no one liked to talk early in the morning, he was out for some reason, I for some other, or may be the same, who knew. I had to return, I decided.

It couldn’t go on forever like this. I had tried long and hard for four years to stay away from her, and had thought that maybe we both would forget each other, get on with our lives, move ahead, never looking back at the path we had left. And yet, God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, you run so hard away from destiny that you don’t realize you’ve taken a full circle back to where you started. Maybe in a parallel universe we might have never met, and had been much happier than right now, but then, I needed to live in the present. I needed to be happy. Spring was around the corner, small green leaves on each tree, wet with the morning fog. I liked the winter rain. It made the surrounding slightly colder, and nothing could be better than going back inside, cuddle a quilt around, sip a cup of coffee, and get engrossed in a novel. However, right now, that didn’t seem the best option. In fact, going back didn’t seem a viable option at all. Going back now would mean getting back to square one. When one has read a story one didn’t like a bit, he is less likely to want to read it all over again. I was somehow the reader of this very bad book, and it seemed that someone had just thrown the book on my face again, only with a new cover, or maybe not even so much a new cover than a reprinted one. Yet if I had to read it, it were better I got started and get done with it already, rather than procrastinate it so much that it would seem to have gained more importance in my life than it should have.

I plied a bus and took a seat near the window. A few stops later, a man got up and took the seat beside me. He was roughly middle-aged, and smiled at me congenially, which was perhaps the first good thing that happened to me in the day. I was too flagged to make a good conversation with him, so I decided to let him speak if he wanted to, assuming he would get tired after a while and try to lessen the small-talk. But when he stopped, I felt miserable. It was nicer when he was talking, and so I started talking to him. He was a father of two kids, he said, had been living here for the past three years and found this city extremely affable. I laughed at my destiny. Here I was, listening to a person telling me how pleasant this place was, when it had succeeded in giving me nothing but nervousness of what was impending. A few stops later, he got up, we shook hands, and he left. A beggar got up in the bus, pleaded for some money, and I gave him some. I had always been lenient towards them, perhaps it was because of the way I was brought up, or maybe just because I had a soft corner for everything, or maybe, I really didn’t know what spurred me to spare something for them every time they asked for something. Perhaps deep inside, I wished that if ever I had asked someone for something, may be they would also give it to me, just as much as I wanted it, nothing more, nothing less. But life, strange as it is, hardly works in the ways you would have wanted it to. When I got down from the bus, the place was completely new. It wasn’t how I had remembered it, and not really how I would have wanted it to be. My memories raked up the old place, and superimposed it on the current. The entire scenery looked misplaced now. I realized that time indeed does change things. It might not have been weird to see it grow into what it was today, had I been through it entirely. But right now it felt as I had time-travelled into the future, and that somehow twenty years had passed since I had last seen it. There was no smoke from the chimney of the tavern, instead air-conditioning machines placed on the roof. The trees used to bear orange leaves perennially, yet now they were all green. Something was different about this place.

Perhaps it was time to embrace the change. Perhaps it would be better for me to go back to the point where I started again. Maybe this was the way it was all supposed to be. If so, then life was giving me a second chance. If not, it would be the most terrible mistake that I would ever commit in my life. I only hoped that this time the journey would not end so soon, like it did before. My mind was firm, and strong as ever, but my heart wasn’t ready to accept this fate. But when it saw the spring, and how the trees bore new leaves again, it sometimes found solace in nature. It realized that this is how life was supposed to have been in the first place. Make, break, make, break. It was an endless cycle, and how much ever you wanted to get out of it, at the end, it was inevitable to get sucked into it. Because that was the difference between God and us. We could not control everything. Because if we could, then we would have been as powerful as Him, as stoic as ever, never wandering from our path, and never being forced to choose anything. But now that I had made my choice, I would live by it, and live it good. Or so I wished. I would soon set things right, but before that I had one last thing to do.

Next

The Somnambulist

The rains came with thunder today,
Reminding me of a day gone by,
When you’d held me to yourself,
And sniffed and cried,
You were afraid of the lightning,
I remember.
Whilst I ran, getting wet in the rain,
My clothes drenched, my hair all wet,
You stood inside a building,
Making sure the rains never reached you,
It wasn’t until it had stopped thundering,
That you stopped sniffing,
I remember.
You were my dream,
I the somnambulist,
Walking towards my dream each moment,
Never realizing my folly,
Or what I moved towards,
Always being directed back to my sleep,
By others who thought they cared about me.
Today the rains have come with thunders,
I still remember that evening we spent,
And even now as I get wet,
I see you amongst the people inside the building.

Two Worlds

I kept walking though I knew,
I had lost my way a while ago,
But the crowd moved so heavily,
And in such vast numbers they walked,
That even if I wanted,
It was too late to turn back.
But then I suddenly saw your hair,
And though you were quite far,
I thought I might make it to you,
If I cut through the people,
And purge towards you,
But then you disappeared.
The sun was right over my head,
I, too tired to walk any further,
But were I to stand I would be,
Stamped and trampled by others,
So never stopping or missing a beat,
I walked the path everyone took.
No one seemed to care where it was going,
As long as there were others on it,
They had a belief in each other,
But looked at me with wary eyes.

Suddenly there was a fire,
And everyone started running in all directions,
I was lost,
The people I held faith in were all gone,
Every time I followed a path,
It divided into two and there were,
People on both the paths.
There was no road less taken,
And not one not taken,
All were stuffed, like raisins in a cake,
Finally we reached a river,
And some of us rowed a boat to the other side,
We will start a new world now,
And though now you aren’t there,
Though I can’t see you anymore,
I know somewhere,
You’ll start a new world too,
And maybe one day,
Our worlds would meet.

A Romantic Poem

I want to write a romantic poem,
One which has princes and princesses,
Write about a lot of love between them,
Which finally culminates into their marriage.
Or maybe about the romance of two,
Simple ordinary people from the streets,
How they met as strangers and fell in love,
And how happy they are today.

Or, how about the romance, the unkindled love,
Between two first-time lovers,
The inexperience, and the excitement,
The feeling of having loved the first time.
But no, I won’t write of all this,
Far too many poems already speak of that,
Maybe I’ll talk of other kinds of romance,
Those that are less spoken about.

I want to write a romantic poem,
But this isn’t quite turning out to be one,
Other than the romance between mind and words,
Which no one seems to care about.
So I’ll probably stop writing now,
Unromantic that I already am,
Leaving romantic poems to better poets,
And maybe go and have a nap.