Life, a Bitter and Sweet Symphony

Sometimes, when you are gone, your smell and smile reside with me, and turn into a bubble that doesn’t burst for days. Sometimes, when you are gone, Spring suddenly turns into Autumn and every green memory falls red. Sometimes, when you are gone, all the happy days get lost & meaningless, just like a horse runs in the meadows. Sometimes, when you are gone, the green of the earth, and the blue of the sky, become hazy. Sometimes, when you are gone, your touch lingers in me, my hands take your form and doodle your name reflexively. Sometimes, when you are gone, the fetish of my passion that was, haunts me in my dreams. Sometimes, when you are gone, the courage veils too, the courage that I need, the one that I should become, and the one that should catch me.

Under the hazy sky that smelled blue, Her wet lips smelled my breath so new, I came closer and smelled her love, And both our breath shed just one fragrance. My eyes and her shadows, Then lingered into an invisible red, The red was so fresh, and smelled…just red. But now all that fragrance is lost, For she is not in love any more And for my nose, oh, it has fallen on the floor!

12:00 PM. She was leaning on the wall. The desire to kiss the clouds and touch the dew was overriding in her breast. What was once an adrenaline rush in her translated into a stagnant sea that now never moves. Only the ripples could be seen and heard. She oscillates in the room full of anxiety. Her only fear is that Ananya would wake up from the sleep and open her broad eyes to meet the cages. Her heart comes to her throat and the tiny lit eyes are now broken in thousand different pieces. The reverie busted. Some parts fell on the ground while she managed to hold some in her devastated eyes. “I can’t let my daughter be home arrest…” her heart whispered. She ran towards the bedroom to find Ananya woken up to the slumber. “Mummm..mumma”, Ananya coiled her lips. The words touched her heart like a feather touches our cheeks on a newly bloomed spring evening. But like a heartless mother, she forced her to sleep again. “With similar “mm-mmm” sounds, Ananya coiled her boat-like b...

O my Holy Mother, I want to gift You a pearl necklace,       That which is entwined with my saline water, And also wish You to wear it on Your breast. Regardless I know that this entire universe- The breezes, rains and seas, Bestow picturesque ornaments on Your Holy Self. Just as Stars offer You the anklets Made from their light that transcends on Your feet, Sliding through the kaleidoscopic doors of heaven. And just as the Moon casts is radiance On Your beatific face, figuring into studs on Your ears. I want to gift You still, A pearl necklace, That which is entwined with my saline water. On tenterhooks that when I bring this necklace to You, You would reward me with Your Grace, And melt the pearl necklace, That just beamed gloriously and survived a 2-minute life, After you garlanded it on to your breast.

And she does not crave for fancy dresses, Nor for the outdoor trips on Maldives. Visa and credit cards she never fancy in her wallet, ‘coz to her, money lies in familial bliss- The intricate, woven, familial bliss. And adventure in togetherness, Not separated by ‘my personal boundaries’. And she doesn’t welcome the ‘space and freedom’, That widens, widens and widens… …and drifts away the emotional streaks. And while people start enjoying that space, They forget that it has become a Frankenstein’s Monster. And she did not crave for a fantastic career, Nor even that gives her a chance overseas, Such bonus and promotions are bane and folly, she opines- When a husband sleeps away from her wife, And a daughter plays with her Barbie doll alone, And a son rides his cycle without his dad’s help. And she doesn’t enjoy drinking at parties, Neither neat, nor bottle nor pint. The love, closeness and expressions– That’s what she likes to drink. No wonder, people call her a mediocre! She is a m...

As I enter the boundaries of my office, and see people at their desks, I wonder. What is it? Some flat faces, some heavy expressions- somewhere it is an enlightened world of laughter, while the next neighbor carries a world of anxiety with him. Few love stories that go along with work, fleeting eye contacts and that momentary bliss! What is it? Greeted with smiles and eyes delighting, on the other side of the table is back-biting and spiting. Why are we often misinterpreted, and that which should to be told, is often dreaded? Conspiracies fly from desk to desk, and emotions are buried in drawers and chests. What is it? Some bright looks, some down moods; some opportunities, some threats, we talk about money, ledgers and debts…Why emotions make no sense, why sentiments lie on other side of the fence? Talking Enthusiasts win over hearts, and the Quiets keep thinking, “How do I begin, How to start?” What is it? Sharing meals at lunch table and eating from their plates, with people...

Sitting by my bedside, And watching the TV channel, you often sight, I thought of you. My eyes were filled, And my throat needed something to soothe the lump. I went to the kitchen and took out the mug, And while I prepared the tea, I remembered thee. Just as I was to take the first sip, I remembered how you used to do it- A dash of crushed saunf powder in the end You loved the aroma, it does extend. After the tea, I shed a tear or two, Because it just smelled like you! Oh! Why did you bid us adieu?