I am a Particle.

I am a particle.

 Constantly shifting its position

 without any preordained logic.

I fail to locate myself on the time-space axis.

I am never where I am.

I keep chasing myself.

I keep building myself.

 I keep traveling the world of my thoughts

Constantly building the next space or the next moment

Shifting between déjà vu and intuitions

 Like the way video games construct the maps

 Or the surroundings only immediately.

Humans live at an intersection

 of time, space and feeling.

You belong to a particular place

 Only when all three are justified

I could never find my third coordinate,

a sense of feeling something truly.

 I tried to feel as to how it should be

 Or how it must be

 to most people who ever felt it,

 but all I was doing was pretending

and assuring myself that I existed.

I hardly exist.

I believe when people say I do

I believe the mirror too.

But these are just reflections

Of thoughts and glass

And reflections might be illusions.

On winter afternoons

When rays of sun

Walk through the window

And flow on my forehead

In form of droplets of sweat

And my heart beats faster

I am confused again.

Sometimes

I wake up in the middle of the night

Waiting for the silhouette of reality

Emerge from the vestiges of dreams

And like a blind person

I begin searching

For proofs of my existence

My pulse awake,

I still feel an urge

To talk immediately to someone

Just to make sure I am there.

And all this is because

I have seen moments lose memories

As if they never were.

I have humans turn to bodies

And bodies turn to ashes

And I have seen the ashes

Melting in the river

And I have seen the bangles

Still stick to dead bones

As melted plastic.

I have seen blood

And the fear of it,

Kill revolutions

And I have seen revolutions

Erase reminiscences of blood.

I have seen love changing to passion

And swords swearing of love

Piercing the heart of the lover

While not even making a sound

Except the screeching silence

Of swords meeting flesh.

I have seen dreams being still born.

And so I have seen

Constancy becoming a variable.

While I was still searching my existence,

It changed. 

When I met smoke

                                                                                                          

For a moment,

The contours of his face were blurred

From the smoke rising from his cigarette,

which was a coil of secret desires.

That can only be burnt away

Lest they burn you from inside.

Ah! Either way they do!

My eyes ablaze

With the smoke that met me,

 and a curiosity born too suddenly

that I thought it would take ages to sort out,.

Could just see two beautiful eyes,

framed in the glasses of wisdom,

Behind a veil of his smoke and my breath,

 both merged in the air

Like things half hung, conspired to fall.

Those eyes weren’t deep.

They were beyond depth.

The immeasurable vastness that they held

Was like the black hole,

But one that had sucked itself,

And was now, powerless after self destruction.

In the process of finding something lost

It had lost itself

 as well as the power of finding the lost.

While they were still searching,

I thought I found what I did not know I wanted

A truth that I had hidden from myself too.

A secret revealed unwittingly.

A secret that should have remained efface

Like most secrets.

But I am not sure if he saw it!

He was too tired of watching keenly though.

Too tired of searching day in and day out.

His eyelashes restlessly falling from a red shore,

like waves that have been woken up

by the deadening lull like a horrid dream.

He might have known, he might not.

A secret whose recipients are unknown

Is no more a secret

But at the same time is a dangerous one.

And so

Our eyes spoke reluctantly in a language of truth

On the island of dialogues.

It seemed they had already held a conversation of ages.

When they had met,

Loved, fought, quarrelled, lost, and resigned.

Now they were tired.

But somehow the unfulfilled desires still sought vengeance.

Mine still pleaded for what they wanted,

His still spoke of a rejection,

 arising not out of choice

But out of no choice.

They knew not what the core wanted

And we stared and waited

For the universe to disturb us.

Until the thought of pity made way for fake pride.

And pride my dear friends

Is a fatal blow to all weaknesses

 including lurking desires of the past.

Except one-the desire to love

Which is more powerful

Than the desire to be loved!

And just the moment when

I was about to fall in love with the trance

The spell ended.

The winds of reality gushed in

to clear the mist of thoughts

and everything was gone.

.I could have materialized the shadows

But abstraction decided to remain abstract.

He crushed the remains of his cigarette

Under his feet

And the ashes of my dreams too.

Nothing was real

nothing was the same

and I thought I met him

but I had met only smoke.

You Were Always Here

How much I missed you!

For it seems after ages

When I finally found you

I found myself!

Centuries before

You were light.

And I was a star!

You filled me in.

I glowed when your rays fell on my golden hair

I radiated with your warmth!

How I miss feeling my sun

Dance over my body

And every pore in my body

Being happily ignited!

When I searched your eyes

I found years that we had traveled together

Sometimes I’d chased you.

Sometimes you’d followed me!

Centuries before!

As vibrations that pretend to be lost

The moment they are created

I may have hidden you in my strings!

Your first touch was so familiar!

I was immediately reminded of

How I drank up your innocence

And thought I’d usurped you!

It reminded me of you.

You were always here, right?

Yes!

 Whenever the wind touched my ears

I could here a faint husky tone

Whispering “I love you”

Like you always did

Centuries before

When we sat near the French aishe!

When the sun kissed my face

I should’ve known it was you!

Like you always did

Centuries ago

When we used to lie on the beach!

And the music I heard was planned by you, right?

For sometimes I was transported

To a familiar place

And I could see my hands putting food in your mouth

And you would suddenly start humming a tune!

How could I not gather these hints!

And before I forget

That day when I was breathless

Climbing the hill

I found something strange in the way I breathed

I remember it very clearly

How I was panting inside

But pretending to be calm

Composing my threads

When you first came too close to me!

The feeling I had when I reached the top

Resembled when we would travel there often

Centuries before

You would carry me sometimes

And on the top

From where the earth seemed a painting

You’d melt me and craft me

As an artwork of clay!

And so I found you now

Still with me

Still untouched

Still my conquest.

I missed you.

Wait for me, naani.

I know you’ll be waiting for me

At the other end of this world.

I'll meet you there.

Relieved from absolute pain

Will you be standing still?

Calm and patient

Opening your arms wide

For me?

I search for you

In my dreams

I run after you

But everytime I am lost

Into the dreariness

Of hollow thoughts.

And in the end I return empty handed

With neither you nor myself.

You might be for searching me too?

Is there no power in my search?

Are my thoughts redundant?

No power is greater than the supreme power.

True.

What a hypocrisy!

What use is his supreme power to mankind

If it cannot get back loved ones?

I wonder.

I wonder helplessly.

O’ vastness of this space

You are shorter than my thoughts.

And o’ supreme power

Someday I wish

The power of love equalizes you

At the other end of this world.

My peace of mind !

It was here

Until few days

Where is it now?

My peace of mind.

I search for it.

In cupboards,

Behind doors,

If it is playing hide and seek.

I search for it.

On the pillows

In case it poured out with the tears.

Under the pillow

Where my secret diaries lie.

Yet in vain, I search.

I uncover the bed covers

If it has slept with my sleep

I might find it there.

In the wind that stealthily enters the sides of window panes,

And peeps into my room in the middle of the night,

When the world sleeps

And I am awake still searching,

Makes me skeptical

It might have eloped with the blue winds!

Finding that I may not prove to be a good caretaker.

The wind chime tries it best to warn me whenever this breeze arrives

But I too engaged

Fail to decipher the music.

Yes.music.

What if it lies with Beethoven

Composing new melodies?

I rummaged around all CD’s that carried

My childhood beats

My first love songs

But It isn’t there too.

I followed the butterfly.

Out of the garden it flew,

In the dreary roads

Lined by naked trees

With leaves at their feet

I search there ebony barks

But they are as dry as refusals!

It is not there.

What if it lay dumped with my old bicycle

So I hunt like a kabbadiwala!

Searching for some junk,

In the backyard

Maybe it too has dusted away its soul

Like all old pieces there.

Where is my peace of mind!

To my old library I rush.

Books might have intrigued it to run

Away to serene and naïve lands

From my bedtime novels!

A Silverfish  looking at my desperateness

Quietly whispers to me

It isn’t here, that what you are searching for!

I still search for it.

In Endless wait.

With Hollow eyes.

And Empty heart!

I am sorry.

I shout

I cry

I throw things away

I break them away

And even hearts

I do not hear

I do not want to

I am rigid

I am angry

I am a big pessimist

I’ve hurt people

I have spoiled  relations

I sulk

But out of the pillow

When I take out my buried face

In my dead red eyes

If you ever see

If you ever want to see

Is pure love for you.

When I shouted

I wanted you to be soft

When I said I hate you

I wanted you to love me instead

At all times

I said I don’t want to listen anything

I wanted you to understand me first

At all times

I told you not to talk to me

I wanted you to hug  me tightly.

Leave me alone

Had always meant don’t let go of me!

Ever

Every time I said u ignore me

I needed you the most

I am sorry

I cannot say everything

My heart sinks when I write this

My hands shake

But to all those I have hurt

I want to say sorry

I am inexpressive.

I am not perfect.

But I love you.

And I cannot afford to lose you.

Let the clouds dance madly.

She was walking barefoot amidst the tall green grass in a white flowing dress that reached her knees, with her head on her shoulders adjusting the tight strips of the new dress that had already left a red mark on her sensitive skin. The wind was flirting with her free flowing hair gently swaying them such that the golden streaks reflected the sun’s gold. With one hand kissed by a ring on the third finger, she carefully handled her windy skirt, a faint smile on her face as she found a place to lie down in the shoots that were rising till above her knees. She bent to place her coffee mug and her book down, two things that were the only respite she was left with. She would come here often when she had lost all energy to fight, to protest. She would lie down flat on her back and keep staring on the vast blue sky for hours and hours together. Today was another personal meeting between her and the blue skies; she was lying with her thoughts speaking to the blueness, searching for some answers. At other moments she painted her imagination on the blue pastel canvas. Others she would join clouds to make faces, some known, some unknown, untouched, new whom she didn’t know, who had never hurt her.

And this time she wanted it to rain. So badly. So desperately. She viewed the picturesque purple mountains around her as an infant views her mother while lying in her lap, trying to gather as much as she could in her eyes. But they too seemed to be sad, as if the scorching sun had tormented them. They too needed rain.

The wind had picked up its pace. Lying at the grass, in that position she could actually see it moving, swirling twigs, fallen leaves, crushed flowers. But where were the water drops? The drops of hope, the drops of peace. The drops that heaven pours for the parched souls. Drops that are sometimes more alcoholic than any other neat beverage Where was the rain?  All that she could do was imagine the clouds coalescing together, sharing their treasure and blessing her with the shower. The grass was struggling against the wind, bending over her, covering her, as a mother protects her child with her dupatta , a scarf of the Indian lands.  But the cruel currents of air were managing the protest effortlessly, in no time a twig almost blinded her. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the energies of the world.

The very next moment she got up and sat, as if she had seen a nightmare. Tears rolled down her cheeks, sweat moved swift on her forehead. Again, she felt weak, her legs shrugging beneath her, life moving out of her in patterns. This pain wasn’t new to her. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep peacefully, he was there, right in front of her, something that she always wanted. Reels of the time they had spent together rolled in front of her eyes. The endless talking on phone echoed her ears. Her loud laughter, his faint smile; her humming melody, his soothing guitar; the moments of fighting over favorite bands and books, the hours spent lying drunk on the open terrace watching the night sky full of stars, everything whizzed past her face.  Everything so perfect. But this uncalled perfection made her feel helpless because of its undesirability on both ends. He had never said he loved her. She hadn’t imagined it either. It seemed obvious. It is the roar of the waterfall that makes its height obvious. It is the vastness of the white snow that makes its serenity predictable. It is the intensity of a relation that makes love obvious. So, she hadn’t imagined.

‘Rain through the clouds I said, let the clouds dance madly’, she shouted. ‘Why don’t you make it rain? Why don’t you drown me?’  She was floating in love, drowning in madness .Her body felt cold.’ Immerse me in a tub of chilled water that could freeze my nerves. Make me fly or bring him here.’ As a fresh stream of tears blinded her, she felt something warm near her, a comfort, a wished respite. It wasn’t as cold as the cruel wind. It was his warm breath. He was sitting too near her that with her eyes wide open she could see only his eyes. The pastel hue of his blue eyes was identical to the ocean she had once seen, in turmoil. He wasn’t quiet either. He wasn’t not in love with her.

He bent closer. Now she could see nothing except pure love, if pure love follows exactly the dimensions as it has been told to, if pure love was the pure love of the century old stories, the Cinderella like fables,  and the love stories she had seen after they were crafted into movies. She wanted to kiss him. But more than that, she wanted him to kiss her first, with an intensity that makes her forget whatever she had lost and sucks out all the negative energy she was falling prey to. She wanted him to kiss her in a way that no longer makes her sick to submit to wander in lust. A kiss that is enough to make her understand that love is devoid of reciprocation if it is pure love. Love can survive in solitude for it has survived through the hollowness of the space. It is here that it travels between the planets and the sun, the sun maintains an adequate distance from the planets for it knows that its proximity might burn them. Proximity is just a preferable but not a necessary condition for the survival of love, as  distance is.