The Year I found Myself.

"You are so kind and full of love". While I have always been seen as a caring and a loving person, something about the way this was said to me yesterday overwhelmed me. Perhaps it was because that somewhere in the spontaneity of life itself I had forgotten to love my self. That was some time back and yet when I look back today at this year, I feel strong, I feel liberated and happy that in spite of everything that could have gone wrong in the past, I did the one thing that makes me who I am- I found myself

.

I still remember, how exactly an year back on this day, I was sad. I was unhappy as several things in my life were in chaos. My entire life seemed to be a chaotic mess- of people, of circumstances and all that could not be right. People close to me knew what I was going through, they stood by me and yet none of them could alleviate the pain that incurs when your soul breaks into a million pieces. Perhaps it is in the nature of things that they always tend to collapse and fall apart.

.

Only to be rebuilt again

.

And so I when I look back through 2017, I feel that I could have never been closer to myself before this. I embraced myself in the truest possible ways. I spent time with myself doing things I loved the most- reading books, writing, traveling, making crafts and volunteering at the museum. I often get the question that how do I manage so many things when I am a full time grad student and the only thing I can think of is that I love what I do. I have always done things that I truly love and that makes all the difference to me

.

I have realized that events will always be cowards. They will never occur singly, instead would occur in packs and leap out all at once. But even then, 2017 you will be special in a lot of ways. Years later when perhaps I'd have tell my daughter about you, I'd do so with a sense of pride and affection that will always be reserved exclusively for you. For you gave me a new beginning. I'd tell her how in the middle of chaos I found peace and I'd teach her never to compromise with her convictions and stand by what she truly believes in. That when we truly believe in the smallest of things we find the strength to be ourself. I'd tell her how slowly over time she will find a sense of peace and contentment that can only be felt and not stringed into words. I'd tell her that some day every bad phase would be overwritten by the good and the love inside her soul. And that love will always guide her towards all that is beautiful and infinite.

.

Like the shooting stars and the moon. 

.

And stardust. 

.

Thank you for being kind to me. I will miss your quirkiness and all that was good about you, for in you I found myself. 

-S.

The Baggage

Its been a while,

since I saw him on the flight I took to India. 

He was beautiful. 

his hazel colored eyes sparkling as he flicked away the tousled brown hair 

away from them. 

He was silent, that boy

his face a mask of monotony,

not once looking out towards the golden hued clouds

.

They must have fought- I tell you, and yet

his deep brown eyes stood out in the crowd.

His rugged breathing was hoarser than the sound of the baby,

 wailing down the passageway. 

Just as hard to ignore, 

and when once he caught my eye,

his beautiful smile almost broke my heart.

the flight was long, 

and I was tired

.

As i dozed off, i saw him resting lightly 

on the hand rest,

softly moving through the  turbulences.

But I tell you, he was worried,

for all the excess baggage he had boarded on with

-S

.

The Space Between Us

Could you ever fall in love with a place, even before you knew it existed? This is not a trick question. I'd genuinely want to know that is it possible to fall in love with something that might have not made its presence felt in your life, ever? 

Perhaps except in your dreams.

. 

And perhaps this is one world- this world of dreams, that opens up new and unexplored horizons- of possibilities, of knowing and of awareness. As a person driven by the language of the universe, I feel that our dreams tell us a lot, speak to us in different ways. Its been a while that I have been journaling my dreams, and what I find mysterious is how vividly the minute details stand out in the realm of my subconscious mind. Writing about love in her book, the Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri notes that falling in love with a stranger - is sexy, but the moment when I saw you in my dream- a part of that truth changed. Or maybe the equation did. You were no longer the stranger I'd never met, but in fact recognition dawned in as I was watching another me. Another half of me, that had been hidden away, whose presence had been revealed to me just as the mist of consciousness had lifted. 

.

Its beautiful, how in our dreams even the language of silence speaks loudly. There is nothing that is spoken and yet there is nothing that remains unsaid. Its just the awareness that matters- like parallel  worlds, mutiverses, where planes would just meet- only in this case it'd mean intersection of  our awareness. And amidst all this, amidst all the promises we had made to meet at the end of the world, between lines that which is truth and that which is just an illusion, it was not you I had thought of.

.

For you were always the drug that kept me alive-

the only addiction I ever had,

And even as I search for a place to hide in some far away galaxy,

that is place is just so far. 

That even if I did escape, 

It'd be the awareness of you that'd keep me sane;

For you were always My own personal brand of heroin;  

as we stay united,

even in our own disparities. 

-S. 

Blue

Blue-
is the warmest color, they say;
the color that fills one with life, and happiness-
scattered and refracted across the sky and oceans,
forging-
    that inevitable bond between land and sea,
   one that exists between life and death.

And yet, when asked to choose one,
to define my life-
 the only color that seemed warm
  was the hazel staring back at me-
    each time I look into your eyes;
like the warmth of a city-
   slowly thriving,
                throbbing and pulsating with life,
under the throes of a scary, cold winter;
this warmth -
     (yours')
      stays within me,
like the fire that burns in a Dragons' belly.

I'd known such hues,
 only in the color cards I'd choose my colors from-
to fill up my palette.

I remember,
   looking into them-
  once,
while you were ecstatic-
  and while you never intended to charm me,
 the veins within them were so distinct that i felt myself,
.
.
.
drowning-
  within a melange of a million kaleidoscopes.

Blue, is the warmest color they say,
   but my ochre-eyed angel,
   do you know,
    that hazel, could be warm too.. ?

-S.
   

The Story of the Fall...

                                                              (i)

How do you tell the story of falling in love?
 the story of the fall that-
never was the fall,
   that was slow at first,
      and then as rapid as a meteor,
shooting past the darkness of the city-
   that lay unaware of the celestial dance,
      we had inadvertently led ourselves into-
setting it ablaze,
      like the stardust,
      we were made of,
shimmering, glittering, leaving behind a trail,   
  of love,
of hope.

                                                           (ii)

How do we tell the story of 'us' falling in love?
     the story that had no prologue;
     we never said the word 'love'
     we didn't have to,
It was around us, in our laughter,
in the sense of wonder I found in you.
I saw it in your smile,
    the smile which was home,
    that turned a 'nothing' into 'everything'.
        
                                                       (iii)

How do I, tell the story of us falling in love?
When all that I have with me is a memory,
  nestled in my mind,
     waiting to be fragmented,
the one that awakens each time i close my eyes.
 "Us"
walking endlessly,
into the dark,
where the flickering lights gave way to the stars.
And amidst the conversations we had,
about nothing and everything- I remember the warmth of your touch.
You remember that too, don't you?
I sometimes wonder, if I was there at all.
And yet my heart knows,
that, 'that' was the beginning of it all.

-S.

    

That "No" Never Meant a "Yes"

This is the hardest thing I've ever written. Hard not because I don't have the right words to express my thoughts, but simply because I don't know where to start. When I'd been writing about how I have healed over the past year, towards better, I also realized how, many people have been a part of this journey of self healing, in a lot of ways. There were women, who supported me. But this support worked differently. I'd speak to a lot of women, discuss their problems, listen to them and the acknowledgement that I've helped them grow, in fact helped the growth in me. But that is not what I intend to write about, here. 

.

Over the past few days, with the advent of the #metoo campaign, the social media news feed has been bustling with stories of sexual abuse, people faced at some point of their lives. It is surprising, how a colossal section of us, have been subjected to abuse as children, when we were probably too young, too naive to understand, or contemplate things. It leaves scars, which probably would never heal, leaving a buzz inside our own head, "Was it my fault?" What is even more surprising is the fact that this feeling, of being at fault perhaps becomes a part of our demonic inner self. We however, have come a long way, in being able to share our experiences, our thoughts, claiming that we belong to that generation, where acceptance is virtue.

.

Or is it?

.

Abuse, in an form is not easy, to come to terms with- whether it be at our workplace, on roads, or even within the safe haven of the family. It becomes exceedingly difficult when the person in question turns out to be someone, you'd once respected and in some ways admired. How do you come to terms with the very fact, that someone meant to protect you, would ravage your existence each moment you are alone with that person? Thanks to my loving parents and my sister, I've always felt protected, safe even when they are miles away. Their very presence giving me the strength to go on with life, whatever the situation might be. But when something of this magnitude happens, your core is shaken up. And when I speak of acceptance, of women empowerment, I speak of women who have stood by me- supported me. But here it comes- acceptance.

.

In spite of all the support, I was questioned. I was asked why did I stay silent? Why was I being a disappointment? I resorted to the very thing I usually do, I wrote about it. To that, people said, stop romanticizing things! You should've done this or that. I can clearly remember the way I felt maligned when the person in question, was in the same room as me. The bile that rose in me, when he tried repeatedly to grope me, when he put me in awkward situations. Time and again. And to everyone, who'd question "Why would you stay silent?", let me tell you that it was not easy. Coming to facts with this- was not easy at all. 

.

However, over time, I gathered myself up and I confronted him, and then I was blamed, for saying a "No" that was not strong enough. My only question here, is that does the connotation of a No change with time? It does not. And people, men, women, need to understand that. Its great that people are being aware, of the vices others face, but by being judgmental, they are not offering any solace- they only end up aggravating an already serious issue.  

.

The only thing that will help, is the awareness, that it is not our fault. That  no is meant to convey a certain aspect, which people chose to ignore. That we, as individuals, are not answerable to the entire world, for the choices we make. That its okay, to protect ourself,  even from our own loved ones, if need be. That in the journey of self discovery, and healing the only thing that matters is our own faith. 

.

Being strong does not mean having to accept things as they are. Being strong also doesn't mean shouting out to the entire world, what we are going through. Being strong is as much about holding on, there when its all about to collapse. 

.

Stay strong.

- S.

The Power of Healing

Halfway across the globe, away from home, from the country that is basking in the lights of festivity and celebrating the joy of enlightened souls, I sit down, brooding with a cup of tea. The only thought that crosses my mind is the realization, how another year has passed- away from home. Certain things in life, should never happen. Like being away (from home), on Diwali, right? I am digressing from the point, and with this dawns the fact that how an entire year can morph our lives into a new whole.
.
The peculiar thing, about distressing events is that, they are particularly coward; they never occur singly, but always in packs and leap out as us all at once. And before you even know, you'd find yourself slipping- through the cracks of reality, landing in a void, displaced and lost.
.
Displaced- and you'd be stuck in a limbo- waiting, for that closure, which may never arrive, putting everything on hold. Putting your life, your dreams, your sustenance on hold. This closure, is such a paradox, a veil that separates acceptance and reality. An imaginary boundary, which, when crossed calms down all our demons. I've seen people trivialize the insecurities other's may/may not express rendering them too emotional, too naive, too connected to things that happen around. But I believe that love, that connections touch our souls, bare them, and they stay- in some form or the other- sometimes as memories, sometimes as heartbreaks or bitter experiences and build us up. I feel that in each moment that I've moved on, from people, from situations, I'm still stuck. While I choose to leave behind parts of me, there are parts that I carry ahead, and these I have realized helped me heal. Helped me be better, every day- in smallest ways.
.
There was a time, not so long ago, when I'd look back and still sink- within the abyss of hopelessness. But each day when I accepted my own vulnerabilities, my own pain I learnt acceptance. I learnt that pain could coexist, with immense happiness. And that to live, to survive we need not become different from who we started out as. That bitterness need not change the core of who we are. And that when we heal, we find that beautiful sphere of happiness, where we grow, evolve and be our own true self.
.
Always.
.
Happy Diwali. Lighten up your soul. <3

Gateway to the dreams

Only last night, the gateways to the world of their dreams had not seemed that unreachable. They'd spent scores of nights, right under the starlit sky , dreaming of things that they's later remember as remnants of a forgotten life. Dhrubo'd be sent away, having been discovered, into a realm far beyond her reach. And Ashima'd wait. For days. For Months. Perhaps, for years, harboring the thought that he'd come looking for her. Just once. She'd get married eventually, letting the incandescent flame of love burn somewhere in her existence. 

.

She'd be happy, in her new life, learning to accept the aphorisms of her common sense. She'd learn to accept the processes of the nature, still valorizing the love she had once been a part of. She'd believe in the possibility of an alternate universe, a parallel existence, when they 'd been careful not to leave behind the red and yellow hand woven blanket on the terrace that night. The same blanket, which had seen the transition of their love, which had seen the transition from the quivering hands to the deep sighs of peace as they had reclined together. She'd continue to live a dual existence, fulfilling all the responsibilities of her matrimony and harboring the nascent thoughts of her love from a previous life. 

.

Years later, when she'd have emerged from a shy, vulnerable young girl to a stronger version, the austerity in her starched cotton draped sari, doing no justice to the demons she had overcome, she'd see him suddenly, in a market place, a fleeting glance. Her heart'd skip a beat, praying with fervor for a single glance in her direction and as if the Gods unknown would conspire and

hear her prayers, he would look up. And at that one moment, the realization would dawn upon her, that the entity she had lionized all these years, was indeed never to be.That despite being hailed as the victim, all along, it actually was the choice, that he had made. 

.

Would the realization let her live? Would she go on with her life as ever before? Love, that has no boundaries, has no rules nor gender would  become a long lost memory, and stripped of all her illusions she'd perhaps find herself.

- S.

Core of existence (Part 1)

In the quiet of the early morning, Ved could hear his name being called with a clarity that was disturbing. He wasn’t sure what had brushed his consciousness in the first place, but he felt as aware as if the blood flowing through his veins were a distinct stream in the quiet of the dawn. Though he tried to go back to sleep, the restlessness he felt, refused to let him relax. He had been sitting beside the window of his room till the wee hours of the morning, when unaware, his eyelids had grown heavy and had fallen asleep. Now that he was wide awake, he decided to go outside his room and check for himself, if the indistinct humming he had been hearing was real. His house was deserted. He could not clearly remember, where everyone was. The silence and eeriness around him was exactly like the nightmare he had been having since the past few days. 

.

It was still dark outside and he could hear the faint rustle of the leaves on the tendua tree that stood a few feet away from his house. The wind on his face, relaxed his senses and he started walking, in no particular direction. He just wanted to walk. After a while though, he saw something in the distance, white as an apparition. For some reason, unknown, he felt drawn towards it like a firefly towards a light source. The darkness made it impossible to see where the path led, especially across the hilly terrain. It was only when he reached the plain it became clear that he had been following a small group of people- a young boy in the center, holding a small wicker basket led by a young woman. The were heading towards the bank of the small stream that led to the cremation ground.

 He looked at the young boy again. His eyes were sad and empty but not a drop of tear escaped. Unable to take in the scene , Ved decided to leave. He knew how quiet his departure was, and how everyone had been unaware, of his presence around them.

.

 A few days later Ved saw the small boy again, walking past his house. Ved wanted to talk to him, to offer words of comfort, of encouragement, to make him aware that he had been there when they were at the Ghat the other day. What difference would that make?

 Saddened by the thought, he decided to follow the boy. He had been tired and bored of his loneliness, of hanging around doing absolutely nothing since the past few days. His mind, perhaps had begun to play tricks on him, how many days had it been, since he had first seen the boy?  He could no longer keep track of his days and nights- he would find himself doing something one moment and the next moment he would wake up to something completely different. He had been thinking to visit a doctor, just to make sure that he was not actually going crazy. Breaking the chain of his thoughts he followed the boy. 

.

 Ved tried to remember his name; just the other day, he had heard someone call out to the young boy. He almost remembered, but soon it slipped past his consciousness,to be replaced by a void. The boy had disappeared already. It wasn’t dark, yet all he could see were the lush green pasture of bamboo that sprawled like an unending forest in front of him. He felt himself become one with the stillness of the air around him. He was about to leave, when he spotted him sitting at the edge of the field, his tiny form barely visible against the lush green background when it came back to him.

Manan. 

He had had snatched the tiny bit of information from the depths of his memories, before it could escape this time. 

.

 Manan just sat there looking up at the sky, till the stars came up. Manan was sad, Ved could clearly see in in the way he sat, his back bent under some invisible weight, the shine and spark missing from his eyes. Ved went and sat beside him, and whispered into Manan’s ears, “Hey!? How are you?”. Manan looked at him, but did not answer. Ved thought that perhaps he was so shaken up that he did not want to talk. He decided to give Manan the silence that he longed for, but never left his side sitting there till it was almost time to go back. 

Ved again tried to start a conversation with Manan, “Won’t your parents be looking for you Manan?”

But it was his silence that greeted him. Again.

As if realizing that he should get going, Manan picked up his bag and made his way back into the city, with Ved by his side. The silence between them stretched like an eternity with nothing to be shared. Manan’s tiny steps back towards the city broke his heart, he wanted to ask Manan about the other day, when he had first spotted him at the Ghat, but all the efforts Ved made towards starting a conversation went in vain. Manan would just not respond. 

The loss had been more than a mere mortal’s life. The young boy had learnt to remain silent and calm at an age where he should be running around, demanding to be pampered and taken care of.  It was seven by the time Manan had reached his house and went inside without a glance at Ved, leaving him standing outside- thinking for a long time. 

.

“Where were you?” Arunima’s anxious face greeted Manan at the door. Before he could reply Arunima held him by the elbow and dragged him inside. “Do you realize how worried I was, to find out that you were not at school today? Do you think you are old enough to wander about on your own” Arunima went on scolding him. Manan stood there, his head bowed low, fat tears pouring down his face. Arunima bent down sitting in front of him, so that they were at the same level and shook him, “Answer me”. He remained silent and a wave of pity rose inside her and she pulled Manan into a close hug. “I am sorry baby; Maasi got worried for you”, wiping his tears she looked into his eyes and said “Promise me, you won’t ever go anywhere without letting me know”, Manan’s silent nod seemed like a dead weight to Arunima.  She realized how difficult it was for him, to have lost his dad, his best friend, who meant everything to him at such a young age. Arunima’s sister had long left a void in their lives when Manan was born. 

Manan was dearer to her, than any other person in existence. He was the only link to her past, her own childhood. After losing her sister, she had not thought that Manan would go through the pain of losing his only parent. But such had been the irony of life. Manan’s father Tanush, was a lively man, full of life and happiness. The news had shocked everyone. Arunima knew how badly shaken up Manan had been to see his dad, lay there all, the accident spot all bloodied. It was a miracle that Manan and Arunima had escaped unscathed from it. 

The damage was however, deeper; since that day Manan had not uttered a single word. With each passing day Arunima was getting worried for him and had tried everything she could to make him talk. Today was the first time that she had the courage to send him to school and he had run away, without telling her anything.

.

“Do you want to eat? I made your favorite pasta today….”. Letting out a deep sigh Arunima took him inside , holding his hand and gently made him eat. Manan ate without a word; not once he resorted to the pranks he usually played with Arunima. She was his playmate and partner in crimes, the only person he loved and trusted other than his father. 

It was well past his bed time when he finally fell asleep. Arunima tucked him into his bed, and sat beside him, afraid to leave even for a moment. When she had found out that he had disappeared from school that day, she had gone wild with anxiousness. She had called all his friends at school, talked to their parents to know if they had any clue about his whereabouts. She had reached a dead end everywhere and she was about to go check the police station, when he had turned up. She felt , that some invisible angel had brought him back home safely.

. 

The last thought that she had before dozing off was to bring the old mischievous Manan back, from the land where he had wandered and seemed to be lost .

                                                                                   to be continued.... 

Love--Life ---Reality

Books, I believe offer us such solace that it is incomparable to any other form of respite existing on earth. I as an individual, have always been drawn to the concept of love. Love in any form, to me is like a divine connection, one that transcends the worldly boundaries placed around us. The last two books that I read- IQ84 and We the Living exposed me to two different facets of love, that I am brimming with thoughts and realizations that need to be penned down to help me make sense of it all. 

. 

Love and eternity, have so often be used together, probably to give expression to the timeless existence of this emotion. But what in reality is this eternity ? Isn't time itself a deceptive entity and so on what grounds do we use eternity as a measure of this emotion?

.

Where IQ84 set my pulse racing with the thrill of what the protagonists, two people deeply in love, but separated by parallel existence in alternate worlds would encounter, would their worlds ever merge to the singularity of existence. On the other hand, We the Living seemed like a reality check on how circumstances and life as it morphs love into something that is unknown. Set against the background of the Russian Revolution, the lives of three people who give up everything in the quest of love end up in circumstances they would have never envisaged themselves in. 

.

The female protagonist, once hailed as a feminist, who looks down on men, chooses to be the mistress to someone to save the life of her beloved. Two men, one whose principals and ideals were larger than life chooses to be the arm candy of the rich- the existence of whom he had detested and the other who gave up his very beliefs and ideals and ultimately his life for the one woman he loved.

.

Its difficult to say if they found happiness; what they did discover was the reality which in itself is like an illusion. And this is where these two works of fiction pull me in. Both culminated into a so- called reality. I get fascinated by how everything fits together.

.

Love.

.

Life

.

Reality

.

These alternate worlds that we imagine, aren't they part of our own physical existence, brought to the forefront by adversities and unrest. And if so, what is it that we all are seeking?

.

I realize that that for each one of us, there is a distinct reality- one that is defined by the present and the past, like two alternate versions of the world.

.

And the future, well that is the impetus for all the unrest inside us, isn't it?

-S.

Closure

Love, is a concept that is so warped up around existence and experience. The depth and intensity of this emotion, at times leaves us changed and broken. Being broken, however is a sign that we are still vulnerable and that our soul is still nascent in the way it connects.
.
Across boundaries.
.
There are so many people who are at the same time broken as well as strong, holding on, to the vestiges of sustenance. What surprises me is the mask of indifference that people often choose to hide their pain. Is it that easy - to not care, to be unavailable emotionally? These boundaries we have created to keep ourselves sane, scares and distresses me. When love is intense, so is the hurt that comes with it. And that, I feel is perfectly normal. Our survival, our existence- everything is somewhat jeopardized.
.
But what I find most beautiful, is our ability to heal - over time. That of course might take years and that indeed signifies how important something had been to us. But we heal - eventually. And that one thing which helps the process is friendship and love, one that is unconditional, non-judgmental, that which accepts you for who you truly are. People, who themselves have gone through the pain of an emotional breakdown, often end up trivializing problems faced by other people.
.
What I wonder, is why can't people be just there? As a support and not often words of advice. However great the purpose might be, its useless unless the hurt soul finds closure inside.
.
Closure- its such a paradox, you know. Its like a veil that separates acceptance and reality. Like an imaginary boundary, which when crossed calms down all our demons. I've seen and heard people mock others, who are too emotional, too naive and too connected to things that happen around them. But, love- that simple, divine connection one feels- might last for a moment or for a lifetime. They perhaps do not realize, how brave a soul has to be to accept that something that beautiful could not last forever.
.
Does it really matter, whether it was a moment or an eternity? After knowing love, which no human words can never tell, the distinction between the two ceases. I feel distressed to realize that even in the moment that I've moved on - from people, from circumstances, I am still stuck. As if I have parallel versions of my soul, each latched onto those memories.
.
The beauty of this distress indeed culminates into the journey of healing. Seeing a journey, that at one point was so unlikely, insurmountable in fact, like that incessant body ache which creeps down to the limbs, into every pore and cell of the body, refusing to go away. Over time, the pain kind of settles down. We learn to live with it, accept it.
.
And so acceptance of our vulnerabilities, our own absurdities, our need to connect is the one thing that perhaps propels us towards the path of peace.
.
The path that can turn a colorless void around us, into a beautiful, colorful sphere, where as individuals we can grow, evolve and be our own true self.
-S.

Rules of the game

Dear Stranger,

A time will come, after you've known me for a few days, that you would start to think that you know me well, so well that you would think that I am an emotional and predictable mess. My emotional rawness and impulsiveness, at times will confuse you, for I am not the kinds who would shy away from wanting to get the stars for you. I believe in equality, but I am not the kind who searches for an opportunity to try and prove how feminist I am, by being condescending towards you- if you do not pull out the chair for me. You might think, that my ability to love fearlessly, is a sign that I am needy. But you'd be wrong- just like so many people I have met before; who chose to see me how they wanted to and not once, for who I really am. If I can love, I can bend all forces to be with you. That, though wouldn't weaken my resolve to walk away if you can't love the entirety and chaos of me. I would want you, all of you- with all your darkness and the secrets that you think are yours alone. 

.

You would label it as lack of trust and comfort that would come with time. But love, my sweetheart, binds us in ways that time and comfort become redundant and obsolete. There is something in the way I will love you, that the metaphysical distinction between our souls would cease to exist. People say that we fall in love several times, but its never the same love twice.

.

I differ, for I do not know, how to love halfheartedly. I won't look into your eyes, thinking of my first kiss, or the first time I held someone's hand. All of these moments- morphed me into who I am, made me fearless enough to believe in love- one that transcends time and space. I will not shy away from telling you how a heartbreak seemed like the end of the world and yet how I healed- slowly, putting myself back into the whole I once was.

.

And if I am giving you my love, you will know that a part of my soul will have found a horcrux- that I will continue to grow, evolve and bloom as long as me and you are scattered across this vast infinity of life. And when we part, I promise you'd not regret it; because one of the things about love is that it can bring out our worst and our best.

.

And you would hate the worst, I would bring out in you. 

.

So, play- shall we?

-S.

The chaos that is us

Big bang 💥
.
Before life began,
there was chaos and the Big-bang.
We stayed afloat,
Holding onto our existence in the
interstellar-
fragmented and broken
 like the mirrors of kalaeidoscope,
knowing that the world would make itself whole.
.
It was like the premonition
I had when we met-
of a finality,
of knowing that we both belonged together-
like the specks of stardust
which was once whole.
.
Yet, this cognition dawned,
after our cosmic collision;
As we hurtled through time and space-
Brought together for a moment.
.
To be separated again for a lifetime
Or
More.

.
-S.      

बदलते रिश्ते

शाम होने को है,
क्षितिज के पास एक जामुनी पर्त सी जमी है-
बिल्कुल वैसे ही, जैसे मेरे मन में तुम्हारी यादों की पर्त जम गई है।
उन काले, घिरते हुए बादलों को देख- तुम याद आ गये।
.
तुम्हारा और मेरा रिश्ता कितना अजीब है ना?
वक़्त बदला,मैं और तुम भी बदल गये,
कुछ वक़्त के लिये -
और कुछ वक़्त के साथ!
पर अब भी जब बारिश होती है,
मुझे तुम ही याद आते हो।
.
वो पहली बरसात, जो हमने साथ बिताई थी,
याद है ना?
अजनबी थे हम, पर  उस बारिश से बचने के लिये हम इतने क़रीब आ गये,
कि तुम्हारे गीले, सफ़ेद कुर्ते पर मेरे जामुनी रंग के दुपट्टे ने एक धब्बा-सा
छोड़ दिया था।
उस कुर्ते को देख,
क्या तुम भी मुझे याद करते हो?
या उसे छज्जे में पड़े किसी कपड़े के ढेर में बंद कर रखा है तुमने?
.
अरे देखो तो!
बारिश भी शुरू हो गई है!
उफ़, गीली मिट्टी की ये महक...
"सुनो! तुम्हें ना लोग पागल समझेंगे!"- तुम कहते थे,
और अपनी नई बुक को सूँघती, मैं -
नाक सिकोड़, ग़ुस्से से, तुम्हारी ओर देखती!
पर तुम्हें हर बार पता होता था
कि मेरा ग़ुस्सा तो बस दिखावे भर का था।
.
फिर क्यों तुम उस बार मेरा ग़ुस्सा नहीं समझ पाये?
हमारे बीच के हर अनकहे रिश्ते को पीछे छोड़, जब मैं आगे बढ़ी,
क्यों नहीं रोक पाये?
सब कुछ शायद तुम्हारी चुप्पी के साथ ही बदल गया था,
कुछ तुम बदले,
और कुछ मैं!
.
मेरे उस जामुनी दुपट्टे से आज भी रंग छूटता है,
शायद इसलिये मैंने सफ़ेद रंग पहनना -
छोड़ दिया है!
-
S.

कुछ अनकहा सा

क्या चाहती हो तुम?
कौन? मैं ?
आप सोचते होंगे कौन है ये?
.
मैं - मीरा।
या शायद शबनम!
नाम में क्या रखा है?
तुम्हारे लिये मेरी केवल एक ही पहचान है- कि मैं एक स्त्री हूँ।
जब चाहा रौंदा, जब मन चाहा खींचा और फेंक दिया।
तुम मुझसे व्यर्थ में प्रश्न कर रहे हो।
.
क्या तुम समझ सकोगे कि थोड़ा सुकून चाहती हूँ!
अपने ही घर में बिना किसी डर, बिना रस्सियों में जकड़े सांसे लेना चाहती हूँ।
मुझे आदत है।
सम्भाले जाने की- कभी बाबा ने सम्भाला तो कभी भाई ने,
पर क्या मैं सक्षम नहीं, अपनी रक्षा करने में।
दूसरों से तो हर पल लड़ी मैं ,
पर अपने घर में - हॉ इन चार दीवारों के भीतर किस तरह छिपूँ मैं ?
.
तागा तागा कर जब मेरी पोशाक उतारी जाती है...
जब उन नज़रों में अपने लिये स्नेह नहीं, लोभ देखती हूँ -
उसे अनदेखी करना चाहती हूँ ।
जब साथ चलते उनके हाथ ग़लती से ही इस क़दर मुझे छूते हैं कि मेरी रूह कॉप जाती है,
उस गहरी सॉस को वहीं रोक देना चाहती हूँ।
.
मुझे घृणा होती है- कि क्यूँ मुझे स्त्री बनाया!
क्यों माँ बन पाने की अनमोल भेंट दी?
क्यों मेरे अंदर इतना प्रेम दिया कि सर्वोपरि सबका भला सोचूँ?
यही तो मेरा काल हुया!
.
मैं मीरा!
या शायद शबनम!
पर तुम्हारे लिये मैं केवल एक जिस्म ही रही।


-

S

Paradoxes Inside Us

My reflections are you.
All these years,
All this while-
I'd survived-
not knowing how a part of me is
connected,
to you.

And then one day,
You catch me-
unaware.
Serendipity. Deja-vu.
Yes.
That's how it feels.
You make me wonder,
how you know exactly-
how I feel.

I ask you,
And the simplicity of your reply,
"We all have a part of each other latched on-
to our own soul"
This!
Satiates my soul.

I feel complete-
in some ways.
Any yet a deep void,
blares its existence in me.
Me and you,
similar and yet so different.
United by our own disparities.
Me and you..... 

Illusion

These linear roads,
make me search...
and my eyes
they choose to follow you,
across this vast-
ocean of life.
And you,
like the Pied Piper of Hamelin,
Lead me on.
Without awareness- towards the unknown.

And here, I wait,
for the spell to break-
Just this once.
I want to be aware,
awake and still-
follow you,
in all my burning desires.

There-
there you are,
evading me,
against the turquoise of the evening sky;
against the deep blue that fills up,
my half-closed eyelids;
Lurking, waiting,
taking flight even before I have a chance
 to give form to your presence.

Your Presence in me

As Tara sat waiting, alone in the hospital room, the only name that reverberated in her mind was Shlok’s. She thought of calling him and seek the comfort of his presence on that dreary day, which was about to change their lives. But the anger and pain inside her stopped her from doing so. She couldn’t bring herself to eve dial his number, let alone talks to him. The voice in her head screamed out to her once more if she was sure of what she was about to do. The peach colored walls of the hospital room seemed dreary and lifeless. For some reason, the colors in her life had ceased to exist. Hardly few minutes had passed when a nurse appeared, a folded blue paper gown in her arms and reminded Tara that she was not allowed to eat or drink anything before the operation and asked Tara to get ready. Promising to be back soon the nurse left her sitting there, the cold of the steel chair seeping in through her skin. Tara wondered if the nurse had a child, how she felt to meet women everyday who came in there – signs of tender life glowing in their wombs to be to be scraped out

 Just like Tara had.

Taking a deep sigh, she got up from the chair and put on the gown the nurse had left there. The paper gown, felt cold against her skin. As she sat waiting, her mind started throbbing trying to drown down the voice of reason which seemed to be screaming at her every now and then. Tara was aware of her heart beating fast against her chest wanting to explode. Just then the nurse entered the room quietly and smiled at her. It was the signal she had been dreading, that it was time.

But to Tara, suddenly everything became clear. In that single moment, her mind attained a clarity that she had been looking for. Clarity of the choice she wanted to make and what she should do. She picked up the denim skirt and the white floral t-shirt she had carefully folded a little while ago and rushed to the restroom. When she re-appeared five minutes later she realized that the nurse was bewildered and shocked.

“The doctor is waiting for you” the nurse said.

“Tell them I have decided. I want this baby” Tara replied.’

And with that Tara rushed out. The streets were desolate and empty when she emerged from the hospital and dialed her husband’s number. The call went through after the third ring and she screamed into the phone even before Shlok had said hello.

“I didn’t do it. I am keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want to, but I can’t let a part of me go- just like that” Tara said hot tears streaming down her face, laughing at the same time. When Tara had finally disconnected the call, she felt her heart was at peace. My Baby she thought. And with that she felt a warmth fill her up. And for the first time she realized that she had fallen in love with a presence, even without knowing. Such was her love- complete and replete with the essence of peace; one that knew no limits and gave her the strength- to hold on.

The scent of a Wildflower

Oh! How I hated you for being so insensitive, for saying those things that I just couldn't hear. Each word bore its mark deeper than a dagger. Technically it was our first fight... But when you stood in front of me, all the anger, all the ego that had lurked at the brink of my consciousness faded away- as if its presence was a mere illusion. I never knew that understanding desire would be so contradicting - in itself. 

In that open space, sitting under the night sky, the tension that hung in the air, as our fingers barely touched, “Desire” was in fact the last thing on my mind. My entire body, my limbs, seem to shiver; yet somehow when amidst the crowd of hundreds surrounding us, you lean forth towards me, you somehow transfer all your strength in me. 

There are a million ways to make love, they say; but looking into your eyes and losing myself in the depths that exist within it, would have been the only way I would have wanted it. Desire, masks itself in various forms, and yet when you stop the car in the middle of the road, to let me have a peak into the night sky, your hands- gently touching mine to help me adjust the seat- I feel the gentleness in the desire that emanates from you. We both are well aware that this might destroy us- me and you, and still this forbidden fruit of passion and love is so alluring. By now we know that we can't spend the night away from each other. 

As I lay in your arms, I feel that no place is safer- safe enough to calm down my demons. Though my eyes are closed, I can feel your hands on my face- caressing me gently as a child, putting me to sleep. Uninvited tears try to escape the corner of my eyelids, and as you realize this and place a kiss on my forehead, I feel the seed of pure desire building up in me. Your lips trace the ink on my back, as I try to explain its meaning to you. "The soul is free" it says and yet in this moment, I feel bound to you- by love and emotions unexplained.  My head feels heavy and I am confused whether it’s my heart (the hormones could have been a better answer though- easy to understand). 

I have no clue, why this (us?) feels so right. All I know is that when you hold me down playfully, your eyes speak of depths, of love that can transfer me somewhere I know only you can take me. And then the realization dawns, that making love is not about being naked. Caught between my thoughts and the reality of your existence, I somehow drift off into a state of slumber; and yet I am aware that you have been awake the entire time. The moans of my own desire seem to reach me from a distant place. It’s the wee hours of the morning now, some uneasiness jerks me back to reality and a sigh escapes my lips. I am shivering and then I find you, holding me more closely than I would have thought possible, calming me down. I am afraid of the dawn now, for I will have to go away from you I know.

I turn my back towards you, not wanting you to see the tears that roll down my cheeks. But then I feel your hands on my back- giving me a sensation of peace that now I will always associate with only you. 

As I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes seem different- as if they belong to some stranger. What exactly have you done to me? Made me fall in love with you? My lips are swollen...And the marks on my neck, do not embarrass me. It feels fulfilling to belong to you so completely that even in you absence I can feel us together.

Me and you- so different,

You - so distant from me,

Yet your presence stays in me like the scent of a 

Wildflower.