The moment that passed

A moment sealed by lips. His lips.

At that moment, the ring on her finger didn't matter, nor did the ring on his.

It lasted only a moment really.

As her stomach went up in a knot, she didn't want to believe that, that moment had changed her life; that she wouldn't go back to who she was. In her heart she knew, she never will. It was not that she was in love or even close to it. She had already been in it once, and she knew she would never feel the same way about any man ever again.

She knew she should feel guilty, but she didn't. She like it too much.

It was just the kiss that she had been longing for a really long time. That’s all. That is all there was to that moment.Secretly, she wanted more.

However, she realised she was herself again- unstable, unpredictable, selfish and calm- all at the same time. She felt empowered and stable in her instability.

She always knew how to stand on a shaky ground, but never had she mastered standing on a level plain.

Now, she was back on the familiar terrain. And loved every minute of it.

Someone had once told her that, that she created her own problems. What he didn't know was she thrived on them.

She liked the indecisiveness of life, and its problems it brought along with it.

Without that, she didn't know how to live.

Hiding herself in a corner, and thinking about it for days on end.
Could she face him the next day? She didn't know.

Would he want to face her again? She didn't know that either. She was exciting and scared all at the same time.

She didn't regret it. But may be he did. And that scared her.

The Next Day.

Her heart raced the whole time. She never thought she would feel this way again. It was a strange feeling of anticipation and fear- the ‘what-if’ fear- what if he is ashamed, because she wasn't. what if he is angry, because she wasn't. But the worst of all- what if, he hated it, as she definitely didn't.

The only thing they could do was laugh it off, and say to each other, “I had fun!” For once, her hands were warm. He knew that. He was cold.

She could see the regret in his eyes.

The awkwardness and the memory of the kiss that passed, lingered on in their thought, but neither could acknowledge it.

She knew the moment had passed, and would never return again.

Tears

Oh Tears! I say... Yes you....

You've been with me all these years, haven't you?

You were there, rolling down my cheeks, consoling and warm

When my soul left my side, leaving me guilty and unarmed

You went through my body, like the lump in my throat

You hugged me like my blanket when the nights felt cold

You went through my breath with the melancholic sighs

You stayed embedded in me, like crystals in my eyes

Now look! How my eyes shine because of you!

Loyal you've been, and you're still seeing me through.

Tears! Will you leave ever, leaving me alone?
Walk away like my world did, and be gone?

I fear the loneliness, which is ever so close
It is taking me into its shadows, and I lose.

Alone as I get more alone, I lose my soul.
I've fought battles and won, only to lose it all.

My strengths depleted, my support is but weak
I stand alone, and friendless as these words I speak.

A foreign land weakening my will
How I fight, I don't know still!

May be it is you who still stands by me
without you, I am as lonely as I can be.....

Looks like another day

The rain doesn’t pour
The noise doesn’t ring
The waves are quiet as ever
Looks like it’s another day for me

The glistening sweat on my tanned skin
The trampled, dusty roads to tread
More so, without songs in my heart
So it looks like another day for me

Sleep dims burdened eyes
Waiting endlessly for hope’s kind eye
Hungry heart, songless day
And it’s just another day for me

I look around for inspiration,
For days which uplift my soul
A door which would creak open
Another day for me.

Baarish

Baarish ki boondon men , sapnen dhul se gaye hain
mujhse nikal ke, hakikat men ghul se gaye hain
fizaa ko bulaa laao, vo bhi taras ke baahaar ban jaayegi
par baarish ki boondon kaa kyaa, aansooon si barsee jaayegi

main sapnaa nahin, hakikat nahin, unke beech ki raah tay karti hoon.
gilaa bas yahi hai, aapke saath nahin, kisi aur ke saath chalti hoon.
mohabbat ke raste par mod kaee aaye, aur maqaam bhi
doharaaye gaye ghamo ke kisse, aur dil kaee toote bhi.
thokar bhi lagi, par jane kaise kabhi aas tooti nahin
raah kuch lambi hai shaayad, manzil kaa pataa nahin
aaj bhi vahi baarish se bheegti raah tay karatii hoon
gilaa bas yahi hai, aapke saath nahin kisi aur ke saath chalti hoon

They Say, these are strange times

I must warn you before you proceed, that I do not believe in feel-good factors. I can’t write in feel-goodness state-of-mind. This is not about hope, love and happy-endings. This isn’t about the how the world is so beautiful. You have fairytale books for that. Read on…

These are strange times. These are the days of full hands and empty hearts. We’ve succeeded in changing dimensions and definitions of life. With success defined my money and failure by emotions. These are the days of overworked worried heads, and nights of drunken fights. Yes, we live in strange times.
As we hope for hope in others, ironically, we still thrive in the hopelessness within. Existing is as easy as breathing gets difficult. Smoke and dust, treachery and lust fill our lungs like once fresh air did.
We, slaves of the very machines we made, have success spoon-fed to us. And we feel we’ve earned that so-called success.
The concept of wanting more from life, always translates into money. The hunger of success and ambition for that one-buck-more feeds on our lives like termites. Eating away life day-by-day, leaving our souls hollow and weak. We crack so easily nowadays, don’t we?
We’ve long existence now, but shortened life. Like moments have been taken away by the very nature giving us birth. One day going different is an event. Life’s squeezed out of our days. And we exist, and exist some more. But we don’t live anymore.
The rustle of notes replaced the rustle of leaves so damn easily. The pitter-patter of rains, drowned out by the bling of the clinking coins.
The essence of our whole lives can be compressed with in a single day. We’ve photocopied our days. No day is different than the other even when we can make every moment more alive the previous. Why don’t we? Coz we live in strange times now.
It is the last age. Before everything falls apart. The words in books have lost in the repentance of the dead and cynicism. We have nothing to give. And seems we feel there is nothing to learn. Why not squeeze more out of life? Why? Well- Coz these are strange times, aren’t they?

Bliss is a lost concept. Completeness and satisfaction are seen as signs of the weak. Contented hearts are shunned and blamed of a lack of purpose.
We see the dark in everything bright and happy. Sadness is beauty. And love is pain. Anything beautiful is equally hurtful.
Well, did someone say ironic? It is a cynical world, and this is an article for these times.

What the Love songs don't sing of

I look at you, and your hand holding hers
And I look into your eyes where I see only me
As I smile at the tingling pain in my heart.
This is what the love songs don’t sing of
Of the ironies, jealousies, and searing hurt.

We live in each other’s quiet distant gaze
We stay together, even as we stay apart.
We are still “we” and it is still “us”.
This is what the love songs don’t sing of
Of the separation and quiet togetherness

When we will grow old, and think of these days
We will pine to come back to each other as we do now
How life doesn’t change and holds still in time.
This is what the love songs don’t sing of
Of the life gone by through the still waters of time.

Of the dried flowers stacked away in the dairies
Of the lost winters, left cold by the fireside
Of the springs blown away by the autumn winds
This is what the love songs don’t sing of.
Of the silenced love and tears buried alive.

Of the music which trickled down the memory hills
Of the perfect blue skies, torn apart by sun rays
Of the dearness of emotions, and sameness of days
This is what the love songs don’t sing of
Of bitter, sweet, and tightly held good-byes.

She sings of lost seasons

She sings of lost seasons.
Of days that passed her by.
She- a mother of three today,
sings of seasons gone by.

She sings years when she thought that
Life was bubble-gum and candy-land.
And that Sky are made of ice lollies,
& feet touched sugar-kissed sand.

She sings of that shining armor
And of dreams of that white horse.
And that it all just stayed a dream.
And she sings of the lovers lost,

Sweet dreams, my children!
Sweet dreams, she sings today,
Go away to that land of lullabies
She sings to the three children, she tucks away.

Gray Winters

The hands loses warmth,
And though the heart breathes fire,
Yet, the cold chills the bones and the heart,
The winters seem nearer than ever...
These gray winters

Past present and future merge into an ever-shrinking black hole...
No clarity… no escape…
The mist of winters, settles too soon in our lives...
The haziness of these times...
Of these gray winters…

The summer clarity, the spring freshness melts
Into listless mornings…
The sun doesn’t help anymore…
The tantalizing sunshine touches the earthy skin and fades away…
The coldness of these gray winters.

The heart lies deep within…
Still, cold, and frozen…
The cold awakens the senses to the pain…
Yet, the heart sleeps
In these gray winters.

The love still left untouched…
Dormant, to death
Awaiting the sunny summers
Would it lie slumbering
throughout these Gray winters?

I still wait to see the blooms this winter…
The snow and the frail heat…
This winter… too grim…
Too gray a winter…
Long wait through these gray winters.

Dreams on the Racks

Running helter-skelter
To keep life’s clock ticking
No time to stop and stare
No intention to breathe
Life or existence- I ask myself
We- Apathetic robots.
Success defined by money
And failure by emotions
A suited, booted, tired crowd,
Walking with mobiles and laptops
We whiz around in those flashy cars
But we won’t stop to let the old lady cross,
Or stop the li’l urchin from crying.
We won’t stop to look at the rain,
Unless it gets us a traffic jam.
We won’t stop to feel the winter chill
Unless it stops our nightlife
We won’t feel the summer sizzle,
Well- we have our air conditioners
Family too far away…
Long-forgotten cousins and relatives.
Life is a clock…
We let it tick with the same pace…
Wishing we could turn it back
And the live the days we hurriedly passed.
And we realize, it is too late…
To pursue, those dreams
Which we kept on the dusty racks
Of our old cupboards.
Those sketches and paintings.
Those lyrics and poems…
Our monotony broken
Only by the iridescent memories
Of the dreams on the racks