Runaway Child

Even after all these years,
I don't know what to do with your memory...
The other day I heard your story once again,
This time from someone else...
There are a lot of mes and a lot of yous,
And I keep making the same mistake...
Tell me how many times must you leave in a hurry,
Before I get back to you in time....
Just once, midway, as you scratch your note...
"I love spring. Spring is pretty,
When she comes, forget me."

What the Shore Said To The Waves

Come as you are, stay as you want, leave if you must...
And if it's okay with you, I will be just here loving you...

My Hopes For You This Year

I hope this year you find you are happy to be living in the present,

You get enough hours of sleep,

And discover a new dish that is exceptionally tasty,

I hope this new dish turns out to be healthy,

And goes on to become your winning recipe.

I hope this year, you find your family worth celebrating,

And your friends, refreshing.

And that every time your days cloud over, you know it is only a matter of time before skies clear...

I hope this year, you learn to forgive humans for being humans,

And find yourself no longer "in waiting", for whatever it might be...

I hope this year brings you new music,

And the song that gets stuck in your head, is still groovy replaying.

I hope this year you find your job pleasant,

And routine, less trying.

That whenever you decide to try something new...it ends in a delightful surprise.
I hope this year you decide to try something new...

I hope this year you argue over clothes and TV shows,

And that newspapers are boring accounts of scientific advancements and clean-up drives.

I hope this year you find...you are you, and who you always wanted to be.

And most importantly, I hope this year...you find yourself loved and in love, 

And grateful for the experience of both.

Wish you love and luck,

And a great new year.

Old Friends

"Why do we need this photograph again?"
"Just to remind ourselves....
 When we are eighty and old and woolly in our heads..."
"Remind us of what?"
"That we were so perfectly young together."

Here We Begin Again

And perhaps the only way to begin again is... to just begin,
Awkwardly,
Stumbling,
Without polished charm or grace,
No more sure of your footing than a toddler on his first escapade,
No more wiser, than when you left....
Just begin again,
With a soft "hello, I'm here again...
Hopefully, you'll want me to stay.
Here we begin again."

The Last Blogpost: Goodbye and Thank You

Dear You,

I have been meaning to say goodbye for a while...
And I haven't known how to,
I still don't know,
But, I'll tell you this...
I'm tired, and I am happy and I am sad,
But I am not the same tired, the same happy and the same sad I was four years ago, when I first wrote this blog.
Hence, I must move on and try something new.
So before I take your leave, at least for now,
If only to return at some other day in the future,
I'll just tell you about a few inspiring authors you might want to read (for they are certainly more fascinating than I), and people in my life I feel I should thank...
Most of you who know me, know where I borrowed inspiration from,
Who I wanted to sound like...Iain Thomas
So, first and foremost, to Iain Thomas,  Thank you,
For writing some of the most beautiful and loving words, I have ever read...
If you haven't read his blog, here's a link
http://www.iwrotethisforyou.me/
Do give it a read,
You will find much of my introduction to this blog and its layout is like his,
Next to Neil Gaiman,
Who taught me it was okay to sound like a lot of other people before I began to sound like myself,
Here's a link to his brilliant commencement speech...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikAb-NYkseI
Next to J.K. Rowling for her extraordinary writing and magic,
And lessons in failure, kindness and imagination,
Here's a link to her inspiring commencement speech
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHGqp8lz36c
Teaching one that rock bottom can be a solid foundation on which one can build.
Next to Sarah Kay, who is perhaps one of the youngest and most talented poets of all times...
Here's a link to my favorite poem by her, with perhaps, some of the best advice anyone can give their daughter
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0snNB1yS3IE
For there are times when the very people people you want to save, are the ones standing on your cape,
And for, there is nothing more beautiful than the way ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times its sent away.
To Abhishek Roy, my oldest and most amazing friend and poet,
I wish you'd write more often, you really do write better than you think,
He and Richa authored one of the most beautiful blogs I had ever read,
It was called Ihopeyourememberme.
I was heartbroken the day they decided to discontinue writing,
But they used to say...
The shortest distance between two points is not measured in a straight line,
But, in a heartbeat.
To my two friends,
Rolly and Gunjan,
For your patience and kindness which often far exceeds my deserved quota,
And for being the only people with enough love for me to not have to muffle my words or ever feel small.
And lastly to you,
For reading this far.
For living,
And hopefully loving,
And making me feel not alone.
Even if you'd rather not,
Even if you claim you aren't,
Even if you don't know me and don't even want to know me,
You were always a part of my story,
Thank you,
And I wish you love, as I always have...
And I always will.
I might post here again, if I ever decide to come up with something new, or return again,
But for now...
Goodbye.
Miss you.
Love you.

Only me

Of Evanescent Dreams

And, you can erase me tomorrow...
But today, let me dance in your memory.

Speak Not Of Freedom

Speak not of freedom, if you must think thrice,
Speak not of reason, if you haven't twice,
And if you must bring your sticks and stones,
Speak not of love for your nation.

Panic Attack

I suppose there is no cure for such anxiety,

For I have tried...

There is still so much of you to discover,

And I am so unfinished, and running out of time...

Scars Don't Make You Beautiful

It does not help to romanticize sorrow...
If you must grieve every waking moment, do.
But, I will not tell you how beautiful your tears are...
Nor the smile that you feign so well, the way you wear it like an armour,
You should know...
Beneath the metal, there is skin, and it is just as soft.
So, I will not tell you how brave you are for donning an armour.
But I will tell you, you are beautiful, still
And brave, just for breathing.
And as you break and build, all over again,
I will tell you, you are beautiful,
You are beautiful.
And I need you to believe me.

All The Help They Need

And sometimes, all you can do to help someone...

Is let them help you.

The Friendship Clause

If I don't know you, and you don't know me,
How can we be sure, we aren't what we need?
If I don't know you, and you don't know me,
How can we be convinced, we couldn't be friends?

Lesson Learned

You still look like my first day of summer,
But now I know, not to gaze at the sun...

Of Paper Dreams

So, if you're okay with it,
Today,
I'll fly you off on my paper plane...
Wave goodbye to your stationery,
For we'll sweep right out of the window,
I think the wind will make for a slightly bumpy ride,
But you might like the touch of it on your skin.
We'll let the tall grass tickle our feet,
Before we land into the puddle.
And then,
We'll turn it into a boat.

Of Misplaced Pride

Do not tell me how you can move on easy,
Or how you don't care for mush.
Do not congratulate yourself,
For how you can now compartmentalize your brain and thinking,
And not be overwhelmed by life sometimes.
Do not tell me how you've mastered the art of not feeling,
Or how perfectly conscious you are at all times, that life goes on...
Do not claim as strength,
How grief no longer impedes your routine,
Or the world fails to excite you,
Or people, surprise you,
And how your eyes refuse to shine anymore...
Do not tell me how songs and words no longer move you,
And how much heartbreak you can take on, with a smile,
Or how people can never tell what you're thinking or feeling,
Cause you can hold up a straight front...
Have no pride there...
Or even, in how you no longer bleed for anything or anyone, anymore.
Do not think of it as a great feat...
I know how much effort it takes,
I am just not sure, its worth it.
Do not preach denial as rationality or balance,
Do not dress fear as courage or freedom.
Do not tell me how sensible you are,
Now that you hurt less the last time they cut you,
And how your arteries have now grown numb to pain...
You know you died a little then,
And you die a little each time you hurt less,
But growing up, isn't the same thing as dying...
Do not mistake incapacity to hope for wisdom.
I have nothing to learn from you,
If you cannot show me how to breathe...
I may not wear wisdom well,
But I am okay with it.
My life still halts with a jolt sometimes,
I get thrown right off the track often,
But I get on, back on, as and when I can.
I still crave butterflies and heartbreaks,
Silly laughter and mischief,
I am sorry, I am happier a child...
But I am, happier a child.
And I, still need things and people I love,
But its okay if they have to go sometimes,
I learn to make do with what I have,
And not need them to stay...
I still smile when I see something new,
And still try to be excited,
I do not forgo life for what I might lose,
And I will not have you tell me I should.
For you may be wise...
But I, I am alive.

No Redemption, Here

I still see blood when I look at my hands,
But on his face, you come alive sometimes...
I suppose you would still want to know,
So I'll tell you, the only thing I know...
You will find no redemption here...
Although,
I think, I have finally learnt to forgive myself,
I haven't forgiven god yet.

100 Things I Know About Her

100. She still reads his every status update off his Facebook wall. Perhaps, even likes photographs of mutual friends once in a while, hoping she'd cross his mind and for just one second he would hurt.
4. She likes to sit cross-legged. Knows yoga, and a thing or two about posture.
23. She likes strawberry ice cream, cherries and orange tang.
42. She loves to sing and knows she has a good voice.
16. Her greatest fear is dependence, needing things or someone. So she sings of freedom, perhaps a little too often. She still debates if she'd be better off lonely, but growing old is something she'd rather not think about.
77. On an average, she washes her hair about twice a week.
51. She likes to discover new perfumes and sweet odors but can't stand the same smell over an extended period of time.
7. She wants to buy a fridge, the ones with two doors and stuff it up with colorful fruits, things she's cooked and ice cream.
8. She is a good cook.
69. She is wary and suspicious of words. Experience has taught her not to trust words, sometimes even her own, no matter how earnestly they're said at the time. So she hates voicing her own ambitions out loud.
78. She believes people in love are delusional. Yet, she cannot help but love him or at least miss him.
5. Strong, is an expression she prides herself for wearing well.
91. She has a thing for order, organisation and cleanliness.
38. She loves children. Somewhere, there still lingers hope. She had an almost daughter once. Almost, was the hardest part.
45. Her favorite color is white.
26. She hates the word 'women empowerment', as if  women are not born inherently equal.
72. She puffs up her cheeks with air every time she consciously changes the subject in her mind or wants you to change yours, to random lighter things.
55. She snores when she's tired.
19. She still looks for closure. The last argument, the last goodbye were all a little too unfinished. Like an abrupt ending to a war, with no graceful farewells.
84. She wants to travel.
31. She loves attention, but she'd rather be in a quiet place, bored, than in a loud company, lonely.
22. Her father bought her roshogollas whenever she fell sick as a child. Roshogolla is her favorite sweet.
47. She can tell who's been crying. She cries often, privately.
48. Shes tries hard not to feel anything, too afraid if she let the hurt kick in, she'd shatter in ways she could never pick herself up again.
93. Far too many songs still remind her of him.
17. She likes to write things down, formula and methodology, it gives her a sense of clarity.
54. She worries about everything. Parents, job, Phd, future, him among other things. So, she's trained herself not to think. But somewhere in her subconscious one leak distracts her from the other, and she can't decide which leak to fix first or how to fix them all.
60. She still dreams. In the waking hours, of building a life beautiful and useful, at night, a whole new thriller movie.
98. I could be wrong about everything I think I know about her. She is not easily understood. And she changes, constantly.
36. She is a liar.
25. When she gets mad, she gets really mad and passionately mad.
99. There are things that I don't know about her, things that I already love, but might never know... and that kills me.
10. She is so tired... But, she can still smile, for now.
2. She cannot love me and I cannot unlove her.
1. She is beautiful, so beautiful.

Guide To The Right Escape

And, if you cannot eat, 'cause you want to leave,
Cannot sleep, 'cause you want to leave,
Cannot work, 'cause you want to leave,
Cannot breathe, 'cause you want to leave...
Then leave...
But, the right thing,
So that you may want to eat, sleep, work and breathe again.
Remember, it does not help to escape the country,
If you leave with the wrong luggage.

Ordinary Love

She says she has nothing new to offer,
She is nothing extraordinary,
And no one you haven't seen the likes of before...
I believe her.
She says she is nothing unusual,
She may have one or two stories,
But, they are not unheard of...
I believe her.
She says she is no hero,
She may act like the protagonist of a movie once in a while,
Stoic and strong...
But, we all do, sometimes.
She says she is nothing extraordinary,
I believe her.
She says there is nothing exceptional in the way I feel,
That there is nothing new,
Even... in this sense of invincible joy,
Of having known true happiness and beauty like nothing else before,
Or in this pain...
Of sinking to a bottomless ocean,
Or having a thousand shards of glass,
Rip right through your heart.
She says there is nothing extraordinary in the way I feel,
I believe her.
But, there is nothing ordinary about love.

Sorry, Thank You, Please

I know you are tired of me apologizing,
But, that's just all I have,
Usually when I say "I'm sorry",
I mean I'm sorry for existing,
I'm sorry for taking up your time,
And I'm sorry it's not always pleasant...
And I'm sorry I apologize,
I know it does not help.
But mostly, I'm sorry 'cause I don't know what else to say.
When I say "thank you",
I mean thank you for your time,
I never took one second for granted,
And I know you had a choice,
A lifetime is limited...
And I, I was never wasting time,
Even as I watched you tie your laces.
So thank you for your time.
But mostly, thank you, for you, as you are.
And when I say "please"...
I mean please is the only way I know how,
To stall goodbyes...
To let the magic linger, To keep you here,
Just a little longer, I know you're not mine to stay.

A Lucky, Lucky Day

You couldn't have known how those seven seconds mattered,
But they did.
They were extra and unanticipated,
They made the crazy chase up the stairs worth it.
I watched you blink one more time,
And the sun looked happy, playing with your hair.
You couldn't have known, but...
That was magic enough for today.

The Last Embers Alight

On most days, I don't feel anything, nothing.
The rain is just water on my skin,
Music is science with strings and decibel levels,
And you, you are no more than a memory,
Of a skeleton, with flesh and blood and nerves...
Until, on some days,
The rain comes crashing down on my skin with the force of bullets,
Music turns to exorcism,
And you, you are a miracle...that did not last.
On most days, I can deal with this.
On most days, I can shroud your memory in a sigh,
Or a word or a song,
I have no need to disrupt routine life.
But, would you believe me if I told you, that it kills me sometimes,
That I can go on with routine life...
Sometimes, I fear losing you all over again,
Like the first day when you will no longer cross my mind.
Sometimes, you remain, morphed in my choice of coffee,
Advice to friends on places to visit,
And the way I still talk in a tizzy or suddenly quieten down,
On the bus routes we would take home.
Sometimes you serve as an example,
A story, nobody needs to know the origin of,
Cause nobody asks after a theoretical construct.
Sometimes, it's not you that I miss,
But the couch in the living room, the western sun on the balcony,
The baking pan we bought one Saturday afternoon,
It was... so convenient,
The striped pair of socks I forgot in a hurry,
And the music collection I left on your hard disk.
Sometimes, it's not the loss of you that I suffer...
Your mother no longer calls me on my Birthday,
Your friend no longer thinks I am funny,
Your brother doesn't tell me which movies to watch anymore.
I did not just lose you, I lost more.
You were not all there was to you.
Sometimes, I worry there were more graceful ways to say goodbye,
Than, "I'm still here for you,
I just, shouldn't be with you."
Sometimes, I linger around places and people you still see,
Just to assure myself you still breathe the same air as me.
Sometimes, I still hurt... a lot, and wonder if you hurt too,
But, it's beginning to pass.
Nowadays, mostly, I just hope you know,
That it doesn't matter how or why...we couldn't be,
We couldn't have been.
But, every inch of you is still beautiful and worth loving.

Happy New Year

I hope this year, you suffer fewer blocked noses,

Discover new music and taste an incredible new dish.

I hope this year, you find that the ones you call family are worth keeping,
And all your friends, show up at just the right time.
I hope this year, you decide to look after yourself,
And find, that you are worth being looked after.
I hope this year, you find it easier to forgive,
Should you have to,
I hope this year, you won't have to.
I hope this year, brings to you odd new aspirations,
I hope this year, lets you fulfill them.
I hope this year, you rediscover why dreams are worth having.
I hope this year, you find goodwill in unexpected corners.
I hope this year, you love your job, your house and your neighbors.
I hope this year, it's less effort to talk, to explain, to love
I hope this year, you find yourself at peace, with yourself and the world.
I hope this year, you are surrounded by love.
I hope this year, brings to you whatever you are looking for.
But above all, I hope like I always have,
I hope this year, you find greater capacity to love.
Wish you a happy new year.

The Last Fight

Would you believe me if I told you I'd tried?
That I didn't get here in a day,
Or surrender in defeat,
That I really, really, really, did try.
That I'd started from scratch each time,
To build a masterpiece...
Only to watch it shatter, every time.
I did try.
Would you believe me?
I tried...
So this, this is my last fight,
This is the last time I try,
And, I hope you can forgive me,
When I say...
I'm learning how to give up.
I still haven't learnt, but I'm learning now...
I'm learning how not to trust,
I'm learning how not to love,
I'm learning how not to hope,
I'm learning how not to try...
But I promise you this,
With the very last ounce of strength in me,
I'm trying not to learn.

The Hate Affair

Somewhere in my windpipe are words that threaten to come out in a scream,
I mutter them in my head, constantly.
"I hate me. I hate me. I hate me."
 I hate the way I talk, I act,
 I think and breathe. I hate me.
 Who do I think I am? I hate me.
 How am I this worthless? I hate me.
 How dare I think I know better? I hate me.
 How dare I believe, I deserve better? I hate me.
 How am I this conceited? I hate me.
 How can I feel sorry for myself? I hate me.
 How come I always forgive me? I hate me.
 How can I live with myself? I hate me.
 How do I get rid of me? I hate me.
 How come I don't get rid of me? I hate me.
 Does no one else see? I hate me.
 I hate me. I hate every living cell in me.
 I pretend I am hard on me. But I am just a hypocrite,
 And I hate me.
 Will someone please shoot me? I hate me.
 Will no one shoot me? I hate me.
 Is this what I deserve then? Live, to hate me?
 Is there no way out of this affair? I hate me.
 You know...perhaps, if you were to slit my throat,
 I could try one last time, to love me again. 

The Traveller's Daughter

Do not ask her where she comes from,
She will not know what to say...
She usually claims she is of the world,
Until someone hands her a form asking for her address,
And she recalls, she is not allowed to be at home everywhere.
She does not have too many friends,
But, all her acquaintances think she's strange and sweet,
She's learnt of time differently,
Every second for her is urgent.
She's lived on the edge of enough time zones,
To know that it is possible to go back in time.
But if you did, you'd only make the same mistakes again,
And if you did, you'd relive your way back to today.
She's learnt that it doesn't help to go back in time.
She knows that the sun, is ever present,
And it's only morning when you face it.
That her morning, is someone else's night,
So every morning she prays the whole world sleeps well.
She's had conversations short enough to know that sometimes...
A momentary smile is all you get to contribute to someone's life,
No matter how much you wish to be a part of their everyday.
And that sometimes, you can't recognize the ones you loved,
The next time you see them.
That, that's okay,
If you can only remember how you loved them,
And love them, still.
She's learnt that people change and people grow,
And yet people all, stay the same.
That you can never make up for missed birthday parties or holidays,
Or catch up with years of changing taste in food or music,
But you can start off a conversation where you left off,
If you can find how someone's yesterdays led them to today,
And not hold growing up, or growing old against them.
She knows that far too many alliances fall apart, between nations and people,
Out of suspicion, lack of tolerance and loss of respect,
Than ever did for lack of love.
That even love is not enough to make her lover last,
But if you fall in love continuously,
It will lead you to the best version of yourself.
She has known beauty and seen beauty,
And found, that among all things beautiful,
Nature is the most sexy.
She has been humbled by the mountains and the seas,
So she knows...she is only small,
But believes she's part of some magnificent scheme.
She is a secret keeper, she collects memories and dreams,
Strangers trust her, cause she will only leave.
She could help you heal if you let her,
She has perfected goodbyes,
And she knows how to listen,
Cause she is usually the only one who listens to herself.
But if you want to know where she comes from...
Ask her about her parents, her two friends,
A cold winter night and her favorite spring,
Give her a place and a time,
And she'll tell you in whose heart she lived for a while.

The Scattered Pieces On The Floor

I see you are perfectly content in your brokenness,
I don't mean to fix you...
I didn't even mean to pry,
It just so happened I was there...as your world fell apart,
I was only a silent bystander, I could not have saved you, so I did not try.
But I'd hate to think that, that was all we'd remember, of each other...
That your world fell apart, as I stood on by...
I don't mean to ask you what happened or what went wrong,
Or what could have gone right.
I know it doesn't matter now.
It's over. And you tried.
And, I see you're not done grieving yet,
It's okay, take your time.
But you're letting slip fragments of you in this wind,
I'm afraid you'll lose them in time.
So if it's okay with you,
I'd like to keep these pieces of you,
I see, I'm not the security vault you had in mind.
I will not claim to be your savior, your hero or your lifeline,
I will not even try,
But  I'd like to keep these pieces of you, if you don't mind,
So, should you ever go looking for yourself,
With me, your pieces you'd find.

A Letter To The Beautiful Stranger That I Didn't Write

Dear Stranger,
What is your story?
It doesn't have to have a complicated plot,
I can make do with boring...
Dear Stranger,
What is your favorite song?
And your favorite movie?
Do you ever dance alone?
Or sing?
Do you think you would make a good singer?
Or a teacher?
Or an actor?
What did you want to grow up to be?
Do you believe in ghosts and fairies?
Why do you play Candy crush?
Did you ever fight over candy?
What did you love to play as a child?
Did you ever have imaginary friends?
Did you ever steal your sister's clothes or pull her hair?
What do you like to eat?
Have you ever tripped on your shoe laces?
Are you clumsy?
Do you keep your room squeaky clean?
Do you ever waste time at the last minute?
Are you afraid of a bee?
Do you believe in perfection, are you a perfectionist?
Do you think it helps to be a perfectionist?
Have you ever pulled a prank or made mischief?
Do you think love pays and is worth it?
Have you ever known heartache?
And true happiness?
Do you ever pretend you were in a movie?
Somewhat like a brave protagonist?
Do you think there is an afterlife?
Or a God?
Do you think you're smart? And beautiful?
Can you be mean, like really mean?
Do you think its okay to have dreams?
Do you have any?
Do you have many?
Do you think life just goes on and none of it makes sense?
Do you think life just goes on and all of it makes sense?
What do you think?
Do you think you'd rather not think?
Dear Stranger,
No matter your story...
No matter your scars and fears,
Your faults and regrets,
I think you have one of the warmest smiles,
You know the kind...
That make you happy and sad and hopeful at the same time.
I hope you find enough occasions to smile.
You know, I'd stop by just to watch you for a while.

The Lesser Equals

We do not merit your interest.
We do not make history.
We are who rules are made for.
We know how to keep our voice low and speak softly.
But we, we make the best parts of any story.
We make gods and devils of you and me.
We, we make a people.

The Hallways Know Your Name

Sometimes, when I hear footsteps,
I have heard them sound your beat...
Sometimes, when I whisper your name loud enough,
I swear they have echoed it back to me...

Why I Took The Stairs Today

I was told it is fun to be a fitness freak,
Actually, I don't believe that at all,
But, I thought...
If you were one, it must really mean you like to live.
Today, I was trying to rediscover wanting...
I was hoping for a happy accident, you know,
To see a smiling face come down the stairs,
As I was climbing up.
I was hoping... I'd accidentally bump into someone,
And we'd share an awkward little chuckle,
And maybe I'd make a new friend.
In fact, I will not lie...
On the first few stairs, I had even found myself wishing,
That I would fall in love...
What with the light shining down on your face,
Through the window...
How pretty you'd look.
I wish I knew who you were.
So, I took the stairs today.
Don't usually do post lunch,
Just don't feel like it,
But did today, anyway.

If You Have Any Time At All...

If you have any time at all,
I hope you find it.
I hope you do the things you always wanted to,
And do them the way you wanted to,
And not think about the lost time.
If you have any time at all...
I hope you know it,
I hope you know that you have time,
Not much of it, Not a whole lot of it,
But right now, as you breathe, you have time.

Hi And I Miss You

All I want to say is 'Hi' and 'I miss you'.
I'm sure you're up to pretty things in life,
I just wish you were more alive in mine.
Hi and I miss you. Hope you're up to pretty things.

The Perfectly Insured Loan

Lend me a smile today and I promise, someday soon, I'll echo it back to you...

Perhaps with a rib shattering laugh or two.

The Hardest Thing You'll Ever Do

It is hard to find what you want, when you don't know what you're looking for.
But look, you must.

The Almost Believer's Conundrum

"Do you believe in God?" you ask.

"'Only if he believes in me." he says.

When I'd Rather Not Awake

On some days I don't know how to lift my head off the pillow,
Or how to to remove my blanket,
Or face the sun...
Like gravity won't let me climb out of my bed...
Like I am nothing more than the sum of my failures,
The weight of my miseries,
A tale of my misfortunes,
Of everything that should have been, could have been, but hasn't been...
And then, I think of you...
Of your face by the bed post,
Of your smile and how the ghost of it would find me in the day...
And then, I get up, get dressed and get on, just once again,
Cause I know I'll make it kicking and screaming to the end of the day,
To wake up to your face, once again...

Exit Route

If you must...
Then,
Fall apart...
Burst into flames...
Brilliantly,
Violently,
Beautifully.
Blazing across the night sky,
A thousand eyes trailing after you,
Wishing upon a star.

The Wrong Classroom

It doesn't matter how long you survive...
How many subjects you ace,
If you're in the wrong classroom,
You will always fail.
And you can scream and shout all you want...
"I don't belong here!!!"
But you will find no applause,
Only condolences...
When all you have to do, is walk out...
Walk out. Today.

Please Don't Fall For Me

I know you think this is presumptuous.

But then again, you know what I mean.

I know you, like you know me.

You, are my perfect adversary.

Please, don't fall for me.

Cause this time, you'll find what you're looking for.

This time, you'll get what you deserve.

This time, would be the last time...

I'll kill you, I promise.

And you'll kill me.

You know how this ends,

Don't you?

With two people in love with destruction,

Two people who would rather be broken,

Just to see if they would live.

Please, don't fall for me.

Don't do this.

You, are a masterpiece.

Every crack, a new story.

Every vein, stitched,

And re-stitched.

Please, don't fall for me.

I understand you don't mind bleeding to death,

I believe you.

But, do we have to?

I know how you got there,
And what we would be.

And you know, how you and I would be.

I just don't think this world should take another explosion in silence.

I'm not sure there are many left of you and me.

So please...

Please don't fall for me.

The Other Half Of The Lesson

I suppose you've been told....
You can't make someone fall in love with you.
But, I don't know if they remembered, to tell you this.....
You can't make someone hate you, who is hell bent on love.

You Know Something?

All love. Any kind. Always, welcome.

A Note To Her Killer

She says she feels too much,
Much more than she should,
That her heart constantly threatens to spill out,
And there is only so much it can hold.
I guess one of the first things she ever learnt....
Was keeping a safe distance.
She can't make up her mind if she's proud of it,
But, she survives...
Else, she would fall apart at the tone of someone's hello or goodbye,
Don't worry, she doesn't.
Should you be concerned, she survives.
It's still trouble though, you know,
When your greatest weakness and strength coincide.
She is cruelest to the people she loves the most,
She calls it, self preservation.
What if, they were to find out she was capable of kindness?
Or worse still, love?
Or just how far she would go,
And how deep she would dive,
If you gave her so much as a little bit of hope.
She will not tell you her dreams,
She claims she's barely capable of any.
"What if, they don't come true?" she says.
I don't believe that though, I don't believe her.
I think she has dreams, and makes them all beautiful.
That they lie unadulterated, somewhere underneath the surface.
A secret mission to be accomplished,
No one needs to know of,
Sometimes, not even herself.
She's protected them well, even from herself.
Do me a favor will you?
Do not show her what she's capable of,
Or tell her things she doesn't know about herself,
Or give her a taste of what she's been looking for,
I know you for who you are...
A wretched thief,
You only have fun, when you break into security vaults.
The kindest thing you could do, is stay away from her.
Do not give her that smile.
Or promise her life,
If you intend to kill her.
She survives, you know.
She doesn't need to live.
But I want, so much to hear her glorious laughter.
Extract the last of her wishes, out of her.
Take her places she's never been,
Maybe, just maybe, show her love.
Guess I'll stay away from her.

Ode To You

Days like these are momentous...

I don't know if that's the right word to use,

But this, this is how you shape me...

On days like these...

Dipped in languor,

And callous laughter under the sun. 

You could screen the whole world twice over,

And never have this, never find this.

I owe you more than you will ever know,

I do....

Just this, to know this,

That the fire that lights you, lights me,

You have to be one of the luckiest.

I would call this love,

Only love, was never this easy,

Love is a little unruly.

Days like these...make me happy,

Make me sad, and then,

Make me grateful.

For I probably have more than my share.

There's a song I could hum, only you'd understand,

You're the world, I do.

Of all the secrets I'll ever keep, you by far, are the holiest.

Haunt Me

For a long time now, my mind has been vacant.

My thoughts, unoccupied.

My heart, free to play with fire and ice.

So haunt me please, if you will.

Haunt me, if you dare.

Don't Just Be Kind

Don't just be kind. Be kind, randomly.
Be kind, unexpectedly.
Rekindle someone's faith in humans.
Maybe, if everyone learnt to hope again,
You wouldn't have to destroy me.
And I wouldn't want to hurt you...so, so bad.

The Art Of Letting Go

Letting go,

Is about holding your palms outstretched,

And letting the sand slide off your hands,

So you wouldn't have to watch it slip through the fingers of your closed fist.

Letting go, is not easy.
I have tried to learn how, for a long time.

I have struggled with it, since I was a child.

The very first time, I had held on with all my strength.

Thrown my arms around wildly, just to hold on to the hem of my world.

Till I was thrashed from wall to wall.

Till my nails bled, and my knuckles, bruised.
With all of me, Till there was no sense of self.

Till my world slipped right out of my hands.

And it's shadow escaped me faster than I could chase after it.

I guess you must first learn to hold on before you can learn to let go.

The second time around, I knew not to hold on when I was to lose.

For nothing was worth such devastation.

So I let my lungs fill up with smoke from the remains of my heart.

And watched the world collapse quietly as I let go,

Till my throat was charred and I would cough up clouds of smoke,

And images in the fog. 

They would haunt me on the streets,

Lurk in coffee shops.

And, follow me home.

I guess you must first learn to appreciate what you let go, even if you must lose.

So the next time I let go,

I let them know, I'd bleed,

I went around with open wounds.

Left them to the sun and the wind to heal.

I was offered help, which I refused.

I could no longer afford any further damage.

But in the end, I guess, I succumbed.

And then, I healed.

I guess you must first learn to want to heal, to lose your fear of letting go.
I don't know if you could master the art of letting go.

Perhaps if you could, you would no longer need it.
But from then on, I knew....
I knew to let go with my palms outstretched.
With tears in my eyes and a smile on my face,
As my world fell apart.
And I, would pretend no less.
And I, knew that I would heal.
I knew what I would lose, and what I never, ever could.
That I was made whole, of all the things I ever let go.
That it was okay to have so many stories etched on your skin.
That I was only closer to what I had set out to be.
I guess the art of letting go is all about breathing.
Breathing, in and out. Exhaling the air your lungs can no longer use.
Holding out your palms, and letting the sand slide off.
Gracefully, gratefully and with hope that your world will find you.

Made Of Gasoline

Sometimes I wish you could break me.
That you could take me apart and smash me into pieces.
I long to be devastated, like I once was.
Sometimes I wish you could hurt me.
That you could make me bleed, like I once did,
But you can't. You're a sculptor.
You have not the skill, of a butcher.
Sometimes all I hope for, is a little bit of sorrow.
A little bit of pain, to get by the day.
And then I realize, a little bit is not enough.
Not nearly good enough.
No, you do not understand....
It is not that my breath is no longer heavy.
But that I can still live, and I no longer have to breathe.
I am not fond of sorrow. I do not crave it.
But I will take it over a vacant smile.
My trouble is, I have known happiness.
I have known living.
And now, nothing less will do.
And yet, this is not it.
Don't get me wrong. It is not your fault.
You are wonderful the way you are.
And I, am just not worth it.
It is nothing you did or could.
It is what you couldn't.
You see, I was never a girl who could make do with a spark or a fire.
I was made of gasoline.
And nothing but a conflagration would appease me.

The Thing About Compassion

There are people in this world who will tell you everyday...
That your kindness is your greatest weakness,
Your faith in people...foolishness,
That the world is a wicked place and it doesn't help to give a damn.
And then, there are people, who will nearly prove them people, right.
They will cheat you, everyday, if you will let them,
They will chip away at your heart from every angle,
They will hurt you in ways you can barely conceive.
But, do not let them steal your light with their darkness.
Do not give in to the voice rooting for you to give up.
Know that,
Compassion, is a virtue of the survivor.

Happy New Year

Wish you love and luck, as always.
And this year, wish you the start of something new.

The Truth About Nothing

All I need is you. If, you exist.

Falling In Hate

Until every atom of your body is consumed in misgivings.
Until your every bone is sore.
Until your every living moment is an act of conspiracy.
Hold on....
Love...is the warmth of sand beneath your feet. A sun kissed bed on a winter morning.
Hate is the cold hard floor.
You really do fall in hate.