Wednesday, January 15, 2014

♥ Unbelong ♥

"Do you feel it?"

He raised his eyebrows quizzically. Soft music wafted weakly from the gramophone record playing in a corner, struggling to be heard over the clamorous laughter and claustrophobic conversations. The tiny little room, with its makeshift sitting arrangement of mattresses, dari and cushions was overflowing with people. Laughter boomed and trickled from every room of the house. The fairy lights and dimmed lamps threw a mosaic of shadows and sepia tones. Almost everyone was barefoot, breaking underneath their feet some chips that were spilled over a few hours ago and no one had cared enough to clean them up yet.

"This - everything. The choking warmth of this room, the white noise underlying all the borrowed happiness..."

"Borrowed?"

"Borrowed, yes - for it will all last till the cigarettes and the drinks do, till  there is no silence, no pauses. Everything and everyone is flowing in a rhythm, but it won't last forever. Nothing does. And they will smoke another cigarette or make another drink because it gives them something to do with their hands while they mull over what to do next.  It will end in overenthusiastic goodbyes and awkward hugs. And then there will be, once more, the silence to deal with, the thoughts to finish."

"You don't like being here..."

"Why should I? It all feels fake. Its like watching a bad movie over and over again - where the actors may change time and again, but you know their dialogues, you can imagine their back-stories and you can even predict almost accurately how it will all end."

"Sounds like fun to me".

An offensive silence settled around them, morphing itself angrily into uneasy thoughts and disquieted
reflections.

He finally spoke up.

"Congratulations."

She raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"You have shattered the illusion."

"So, do you feel it?"

"What?"

"The feeling of unbelonging".

He didn't reply, but simply stubbed out his cigarette.


Wednesday, September 25, 2013

♥ Hear a Whisper ♥

People don't listen. Not really.
But I do (or used to).
And that is bad.

Because when you listen to someone, you inhale them in. Their dreams, their sorrows, their little joys, their whimsy, their fancies, what irks them, what annoys them, what causes them to stay up all night. And they don't know this, but you listen. You listen so completely, so utterly, that all their thoughts and their dreams and their fears live inside you. They may not know this, but a part of them lives inside you.

Friday, January 4, 2013

♥ Away ♥

How many masks am I supposed to bear...
where do I go from here?


Due to certain reasons, I am away from Bombay.

Away from him. Away from my cup of lassi. Away from the warmth of my green throw. Away from the goofy grin of my schizophrenic plush tiger. Away from lazy afternoons...

Far, far away from his hugs. The companionable silence over the evening tea. The shared laughter during an episode of Supernatural. The knowledge that he is there - that made me shrug off my worst nightmares.

Away from the crinkled pages of a much-loved book. From the boxes full of assortment of glitters and papers and sequins and thingajims that I call my craft stuff. From the homeliness of my pyjamas, the comfort of a pair of blue jeans. From the possibility of a drag off a cigarette - if I wanted to. From the soothing pages of my diary in which I could doodle and write to my heart's content. From the simple knowledge of the fact - that I am home.
Away from freedom.

I feel as if life is passing by, as if I am losing precious hours cooking and browsing and cleaning when I really should be with him. Doing anything. Doing nothing. But with him. For we may have vowed to spend our lives together, but who knows how long these lives are? I have this crazy, silly, childish but terrifying nightmare that I will never see him again, that I will never go back. And I keep telling myself its silly, that I will go back, soon.

But sometimes, soon is not soon enough. Sometimes, tomorrow is tomorrow. Its not today, its not now. And that's so scary I sometimes feel my heart stop.

Like now.

Friday, July 13, 2012

♥ In Love ♥

I am in love with so many things...
Bombay rains. Nothing is as beautiful, as soothing. Quiet evenings at home with friends. Conversations, silence, a guitarist and a beautiful singer. Quiet evenings at home with him. Tea, samosas and The Doors. Making new friends. Walking through random lanes and streets in and around Fort. Discovering beautifully dilapidated buildings. The realisation that I can create clothes. The fact that my brother is just 3 hours away. After decade(s) of separation - in every sense of the word, this closeness is a blessing. Clicking bokehs Making perfect chocolate balls for a friend.Finally finding some method to my madness. Hope it lasts.


Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Words are winds and smoke

Today I finally wrote. 
I wrote about you, and I, and us. I wrote about the first kiss, the first touch. How we held hands the first time. How innocent and sweet yet scary it was.  The time when I had felt something flutter inside me while talking to you. And when I finally saw something in your eyes. From this to now. Everything. Each moment, each pause, each breathe. Every doubt, every thought. Every color. The sunsets and sunrises I saw with you and without you, within you. The nights we spent apart yet together. The days we had carelessly given away to passion. Conversations, thoughts, ideas, words, yours, mine, ours, theirs. Sacred secrets, shared jokes, hidden delights.  From the beginning till the end... or whatever one may call it, I wrote it all. 

And then I burned it and watched it go up in smoke, like scattered stars at dawn. 

I let it go.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

To-do

There are things that I have been meaning to do since some time now. Things which are not the normal, ordinary, day-to-day stuff we do. They are ordinary, but they are not something I would put down in my to-do list and then tick off the items one by one with some sense of achievement. I need solitude, I need a sense of space to do them.

I want to cry. To weep bitterly (I am not sure why it has to be bitter - but the word that comes to my mind every time I think about it is this), to let the imprisoned tears be finally free - let them escape and through them somehow find my own sense of relief, of freedom. Free myself of this choking feeling, free myself of this burden which I feel I have been carrying around since forever. I have no apparent reason to cry but since when have tears asked for a reason? The agony of tears is a secret they guard well. 

I wish I could say that one word which I can no longer say. I want to say it softly, reverently. To quietly scream it so my soul can break into a million scattered pieces - or perhaps its already broken and it may finally patch itself up. (I cringe every time I think of this soul-breaking crap - its too dramatic, too cliche. But it somehow feels right). Its strange how much power a mere word can hold over oneself. I still cannot comprehend why the fact that I cannot speak out this word annoys me so. Its like those thorns embedded in my skin. They are insignificant, small, pesky little things. They ought to be incapable of  affecting me in any way whatsoever. And yet they hurt - a dot of pain which has to be removed. But still I wonder, will actually speaking out the word help?

And now that I have some time, some space, tears have betrayed me and the word has gone back to sleep. Ironies of life.


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Silent Conversations



After what felt like eons, he finally held her hand. Gently at first, just the tip of his fingers caressing her fingers. Gradually, with every puff of his cigarette, his hold on her hand became more assured. And they sat like that, for what seemed like hours... 

She wished the evening would never end. To sit under the shade of a benevolent tree, letting their coffee go cold, and rain gently cascading from the leaves of the tree... Saying nothing, doing nothing. A beautiful, unbroken silence. As if the silence passed on a secret understanding between them. And they sat like that, holding hands, each afraid to let go. He wondered what she was thinking. That sublime, unfathomable pleasantness, which spread in his heart,did she feel it too? And all this while, she tried to read his eyes, read his heart. She saw a deep happiness there... and something else she could not understand. 

And still it rained, and they sat where they were, cocooned in their world of unsurity and delight, of  silent conversations and a feeling of nothingness...