Seven Days

Seven days of love,
That was all we had,
And that was ages ago.
Yet I cherish them even today,
And have never been fonder of anything else,
It seems as if it happened yesterday,
We walking through streets under citylights,
Holding each other’s hands.
I remember the Computer Lab,
And I remember you saying,
“I want to give you something,”
And I had refused then, too shy, too frightened,
And have repented for it ever since.
It was the sixteenth of November,
And it was on Google Talk,
You would think I don’t remember anything,
But I remember every single moment,
Every single second etched in my mind,
Like engravings on a forlorn stone,
Which no one will look at again,
But the scars will remain forever.

Missing You

I just downloaded the list of hundred novels every person should read before he dies. This list that I got was published by The Telegraph, so I am going to believe there is some truth to the post. It was surprising to see that I haven’t read so many of them. This definitely means I have a mission to complete before I die. Hopefully I will live long enough to finish these books.

I want to dedicate this post to a really good friend of mine. I have been missing her a lot for some time, and as I was looking through pictures that we had clicked, some completely random, some nice ones, some so stupid I laugh even now, I realized that I was really happy when she was around. Now that she isn’t, all I can do is think about the wonderful moments that we had together. We stay in different countries now, and Whatsapp and Google Voice are the only two things that are even remotely close to what we could call talking. But I’m sure that we will meet again some day, and then hopefully we will create more moments like the ones before.

Then your smile was enough,
To make me happy on the saddest of mornings,
And now when you’re not around,
I imagine you all smiles and happy,
Your hair untied, unkempt, breeze within,
Your face gleaming with joy when you talk of swings,
Remember the first time you fell asleep on my lap?
Then your presence was enough,
To make me smile on the ugliest of days,
And now, when you aren’t around,
Even a single text from you is enough,
To make me happy on the saddest of mornings.

One

For this is the only one I have, and I cannot afford to lose it, for something that is worth nothing.

So many times in our lives, each of us has said this line, on different occasions, in entirely different contexts, but have meant it to be true, from the core of each one’s heart. There is so much I want to write in this post, because there are so many thoughts that spring up on hearing “one”. I don’t know how many of you have experienced this, but sometimes, very silly things happen, only once, that is it. They will never happen again, and when it happened, it didn’t even seem anything important. But now when I look back at it, I can’t stop smiling, I can’t stop thinking what would have happened if I took a different path at that point. That moment is etched in my mind, never to wash off. But about those moments, I have talked a lot in the past four years. So no more dragging old topics, and no more digging into grounds which are soft enough to walk on.

One chance. Sometimes one chance is all you need. One minute, and if you can get back that one minute, your entire life would speak differently right now. You could live an entirely different life. I will tell you a story, but only if you promise not to laugh at me. Recently, I sat for an interview with Microsoft. After a few rounds, when everything had gone pretty well, the interviewer asked me a very simple question: “What is the size of an integer?”

Now anyone who has studied Computers, (even if he did that back in his middle school), knows what the size of an integer is. For those who don’t, the size of an integer depends on the compiler. And that is what I told him. I quote my answer: “It depends on the compiler.”
“So what is the size?”
“It depends on the compiler, if the compiler is 32-bit, the size will be 32 bits, if it is 64-bit, the size will be 64 bits.”
“So what is the size?”
“I don’t get you. I said it depends on the compiler. It is the size of a word.”
“Yeah exactly. That is what I wanted to know.”
“So the word is compiler dependent…”
The interview went on for some more time but I already knew I had hit the low, that I wouldn’t be able to clear this even if I gave my best. I wouldn’t blame the interviewer, because his job was to eliminate people, and this was only a case where our point of view didn’t match. But for that one question, and that one minute, if I could take it back, today I might have been living a totally different life.

One life. One heart. I wouldn’t make this drab and boring by talking of one love, that notion passed away decades ago it seems. But yes, what we should have, is, one dream. ONE dream. That dream. The dream which would make everything else seem nothing. That dream, after which you would say, “I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted.” That dream which keeps you awake. That dream that inspires you to do the stupid monotonous dull quotidian things you do today. That, one, dream, is what each of us should have. And you are already smiling, because you know you have that dream; and I have mine too. And I wish you all your luck that that dream gets fulfilled, and you should pray for me too. One prayer. That would be enough. Until later.

ZeroTwo

Sand in My Shoes

I remember the evening when we sat on the beach,
Waiting to see the sun set into the seas,
Staying there long after that,
Listening to the rumbling of the waves,
The foaming of it from black to white,
As it touched our feet, you retracting.

I remember you resting blithely on my shoulder,
Humming a tune that I will never forget,
The smell of wet sand, the sea, the saltiness,
The breeze, and all the joys it brought with it,
Earphones plugged in one ear of ours,
Your hair sweeping against my face.

I remember you speaking nonchalantly,
I lost in you, scarcely hearing what you had to say,
You were drowned in your whisky,
And once came this close to kissing me,
But then I turned my head,
And the peck fell on my arm.

We walked on the wet sand, creating footprints,
Sometimes tiptoeing to make children feet,
You sketched out our names in the wet sand,
And stood in front to guard it against the waves,
But the waves did come and wash it away,
And you came back, dripping and laughing.

Was I drunk too? I don’t remember,
But we trudged our way back through the sand,
My shoes were loose, and the sand seeped in,
Making slight bruises on my feet.
I carried you on my back, you were too drunk,
Until we reached the end of the beach.

Sand in my shoes, today they fall off,
I’ve washed them so that they no more remind me,
Of that evening when we promised to each other,
So many things that will never be kept,
But sometimes when I think of happiness that used to be,
I remember the evening when we sat on the beach.

Is Happiness Expensive?

There are so many things that happen throughout the day, yet go unnoticed and stay unwelcomed in our busy yet petty lives. Why is it that they go unnoticed? Did reading the above line make you think of at least one thing which you hadn’t considered noticeable lately but then it suddenly rung up in your mind? If yes, why didn’t it feel important earlier? The plausible answer that I got when I asked someone the same thing is that perhaps it didn’t add much to our happiness.

 People misinterpret the word happiness more often than any other word. Happiness is not necessarily something that makes you happy at that point of time. But as you go back through the leaves of your life, the fresh new green ones are seldom the ones that make you smile; the old, red, about to crumble but hanging on still there, those leaves are the ones you would want to keep preserved in your diary, so that whenever your flick those pages, a glimpse of it brings a smile, a wry one, a long one, a persistent one, or a frowned one, albeit a smile.

Of course, you may disagree with me. Of course you will. Happiness isn’t expensive. Money can’t buy happiness. Now your turn to argue. Yes, of course, money adds to happiness. But more often than never, money subtracts from happiness. It takes away your happiness. And I, as a middle-class guy, know about it first-handedly. Whenever money creeps into happiness and makes itself a prime importance, you are bound to lose on happiness. You are bound to frown begging for more. You may like the breeze and sit alone, but then you would want someone with you, and then you’d want a cup of coffee to while away the time whilst you sit in the breeze, and slowly but stealthily, the breeze would become a reason to do all other things; and though you’d argue with yourself that the breeze is still the thing you love, you know that the sides have taken a toll over the main course.

There are so many instances I can jot down right now where money would have made things worse. The concept of money is overwhelming. In an impoverished country like the one I stay in, money is the root of all evil. So many thieves are born every day. Yet what is it that makes them the ‘thieves’, and us not the thieves? It’s because they get noticed, or caught. We steal every day. We rob people of things every day. Lots of things. Most of the times their happiness. Yet no one cares. Why? Because it’s no more the most important thing in their life. In fact, it never had been. And so they don’t realize when you snatch away their happiness, because they get it again from some other thing, whatever it may be.

Yes, happiness is cheap. I am happy when I hug my friend. I am happy when I spend an hour sitting with someone talking about random things that happen around us and I don’t need to be in an air-conditioned room for that. I can go to the beach and make castles of sand and be happy. I can run in the rain and feel it pinch my face and smile for that very reason. And I can smile for no reason at all. I am happy when my mother smiles. I am happy when I cup my hands over the eyes of a friend and she guesses it’s me. I am happy when I bunk a tuition and sit on the roof of the building.

And why did I write this? I’d written two paragraphs of this many months ago, and today I just felt like finishing it up. Why? No reason. But I was smiling all the while I wrote it. It made me happy too. Look for a reason to smile, look for a reason to be happy. Look for one reason, you will get a thousand more. Smile today, and try to bring a smile on another’s, free of cost. It’s a happy feeling. 🙂

The Artist

We were in an alley, it wasn’t that dark,
And suddenly you turned into a bat,
And showed me the way out of it into the darkness.
I, the wolf, looking for prey,
Sniffing into the darkness, smelling blood all the way.
I looked up at the sky, the starry night,
And suddenly it was the roof of my room.
You were sleeping by my side, your hair twixt my fingers,
The warmth of your breath, the fragrance of your skin.

I woke up and as I put my feet on the floor,
It crumbled into air and I was falling,
Falling down, down, down and I felt dizzy.
Then I don’t remember what happened next,
But when I woke, I was on a field,
The grass was green,
A meadow of yellow flowers,
I seeped my toes beneath the soil to feel the cold,
And felt something rising up my shin.
It was you, only you were very tiny,
I picked you up in my hands, you smiled at me.
Then suddenly you were large,
Just like me.

We ran and we ran, until we lost our breath,
Then we stood, looking into each other’s eyes,
Smiled a shy smile, and your eyes closed,
As I heard your breath again, only for moments.
Then the ground drifted, and we started moving apart,
We were back in the art studio.
I painted you in red,
You painted me in yellow.

Yes I Do

I’ve hid it for long now, and this is painful,
To see how things could have turned out otherwise,
If only I’d told you how much you meant to me,
And that you realized, that they weren’t lies.
I said I love you, and you pretended to ignore,
Or did you intentionally ignore it, I don’t know,
But this is painful, staying without you,
Knowing how each moment of mine would’ve been happier.
Were you with me, the skies would shine,
The rains would stop, and love be blind,
I’d kiss the moon, and burn with the stars,
And at night, come back in your dreams.
My soul cries out each night to me,
Tells me to tell you to be with me,
But I’m afraid, so tell me how,
I’d be with you and not lose you still.
‘Cause if you knew how it feels this way,
Your eyes would shine and you’d come to me,
And for once your lips would curl to smile,
Smile at what you’ve done for me.