Colors.

If the old grey crescent moon comes peeping to your window, please let it know that I’ve left.
I have waited too long in search of Silver.

If someday we happen to meet again, you will know how long I’ve waited. Long till my Silver turned to Grey. And on moist mornings, when you thought the White replaced all. It was only me in hurry-scurry tucking away your Grey. Lest you find them.

I’ve seen you in colors. As Red melted into White crafting Pink, I’ve seen you softer. Tender. And as Sapphire blended into Black, I’ve feared you.
From darks to lights. I’ve seen you through each one of them. In colors. Or pallid. Of yesteryears and today.

And I’ve loved you through each one of them.
Through Rusted earth and fiery Gold.

In my own rustic way.

It's like making a note. A life-note. Of never coming back to this point. Of never again closing your eyes so shut and clasping your hands so tight, that you can see fear.

Of never again being this helpless. Life is bigger than this.

Na jaane kisi se kitni mohabbat karne ke baad kuch aise alfaaz janm lete honge. Na jaane kisi ko kitna paana hota hoga. Na jaane kisi ko kitna khona...


Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo
Yun hi pehlu mein baithe raho

Haaye mar jayenge
Hum toh loot jayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo

Tum hi socho zara kyun na roke tumhe
Jaan jaati hai jab uth-ke jaate ho tum

Tum ko apni kasam... jaane-jaan
Baat itni meri maan lo

Waqt ki kaid mein zindagi hai magar
Chand ghadiyaan yehin hain jo azaad hain
Inko kho kar mere... jaane-jaan
Umr bhar na taraste raho


Kitna masoom rangeen hain yeh sama
Husn aur ishq ki aaj mehraaj hai
Kal ki kisko khabar... jaanejaan
Rok lo aaj ki raat ko

Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo...


PS Farida Khanum makes it sound divine.

It rained yesterday afternoon. For the second time this year. I was absolutely overjoyed. As soon as it turned grey and I heard the first growl of nature, I jumped out of my bed, put my Pamuk book down and pulled all the curtains. The cool rainy breeze hit my face. I closed my eyes. I love the feel of rain on my skin.

I got P the Lonely Planet’s guide to India for his birthday. It’s one must-have for anyone who loves traveling. Of all the things I want in life, I want to see at least 80% of what’s there in that book. Needless to say, with P. :D

I so envy those people who have these super cool travel blogs with amazing snaps of all the places they have traveled to. Every time I see these blogs, there is this intense desire to get there too. To feel what’s it like to actually be there. In those wonderful places. To touch. To see. To soak in every bit of the place. Of that moment.

In between all this, college is nearing its end. In a few more months under-grad college life will be over for me. And obviously that imminent question seems to be looming ahead of me as well. What next?
Well honestly speaking I am not absolutely clueless. I do know what I want. However, the enormity of the very question itself is scary. You know like when someone asks you what exactly you want out of life. Now, how is one supposed to answer that? How do you put all your wants, all your desires, your dreams into one concise answer? At least I don’t think I can. Aren’t all those wants, those dreams themselves sewn together to create the continuity of life? Like one stitched to the other to create your very own life…

There are so many things I want in my life. So many I cannot even begin to list. And I know all of them are not directly linked to my earning a degree, a job and eventually a social status.
As of now, I’m happy with the idea that I’ll soon be graduating. It feels good. Feels older. But good.

And yes, the rain brought with it these tiny ice-like particles too. I gobbled one of them. Just like that. It tasted like nature.

More than words

I now know why I have not been able to put together anything for a while. Not a word. Not a sentence. Nothing.

Probably you’ll laugh at it. Probably you’ll nod just the way you do, with small tufts of hair falling on your forehead. Or maybe you’ll pull me close to you and say in your very characteristic manner,

“Girl you are crazy!”

But then it’s true you know. For I see no other reason.

Anyway, now that I’ve begun this, there are a few things I would like to tell you. You know when you leave me to be on my own for a while, while you sit down before me to make our coffee, I keep looking at you. At times, thinking but mostly for nothing at all.
And as you hold the coffee in between your palms and take in the aroma, I wonder…
‘Bout how this would all end.
You know how obsessive I am about conclusions. About closures.

Maybe you will wince. Or maybe you’ll ask me to shut up. But by closures I mean something else.
I know some things are never meant to end. They are forever. Yes, they are.
And so is this.
All I mean is the fulfillment of some desires. The answers to some questions. The conformity to an otherwise unknown destiny.
Actually, to put it simply...
The story of our lives. Yours and mine.

Probably, you think of it too at times. For I have often seen you looking at me when we are at a bookstore and you have an opened book in your hands. And when confronted, you safely choose to comment on my kohl or my ear-rings.
But then that’s just you.

You…
And your roses in that poetry book. They are safe with me. And they forever shall.

So now you know why I have not been able to put together any words of late.
I was only trying to write about you…

Haan shayad ek uljhan hai.
Ya nahi...

Na uska koi chehra hai na uski koi parchaai.
Jaise woh bas hai. Yehin-kahin. Aas-paas.
Shayad mere hi andar hai. Shayad mera hi hissa…

Jo chaloon main, toh woh saath chal deta hai.
Jo theher jaaun. Toh bas mere saath
Meri hi paas dubak kar baith jaata hai.

Mooh pher loon. Toh bhi nahi maanta.
Jaise hum-raahi ho.
Jhatak doon. Toh bhi nahi saath chodta.
Jaise mera ho. Koi apna.

Ek uljhan hai.
Yehin kahin. Aas-paas.
Shayad mere andar. Shayad mera hi hissa...

Apparently, there is no reason why I have been shying away from my blog for some time now.

Maybe I had nothing to say. Or maybe there were too many things. And too random. All of them.

I have been trying of late to not think of too many things together. I pick up books. Read a line or two. And put them back.. I plug in my ipod. Shuffle. Shuffle. And put it aside.

It’s like I want this. And then that. And then back to that again. It’s confusing. And tiring.

I am a little scared too. Of the work in hand. Cause as usual I’m not being absolutely honest with it. I want to. I can. But I’m not.

It’s weird how after listening to my favorite songs over and over again, I begin to actually dislike them. And want to never hear them again.

Also how close I’m getting to people who I thought I’d never be able to even get along with. It’s a nice thing. Yes. However, I’m beginning to dig too deep into it again. All but unnecessarily.

I should just let things be. For a while.

The best B'day ever :)

The Roses. The Water-candle. The birthday gift. The Chocolate truffle. You. Me.
And Love. Life is beautiful. And you make it so...

PS I love you :)

On the Way...

A pink dress Barbie-like for my 5th birthday.

A slap on the right cheek for losing my school cardigan in mid-January.

A we-all-fall-down at school during one of those lunch-breaks, smelling of tomato sandwiches and boiled eggs.

Bruised hands and feet after fighting Bhaiya over the remote and in the process almost replicating his favorite WWE show with ugly men in colored underwear.

Driving Mom crazy while screaming with cousins and running up and down the stairs, hands all up in the air.

Making untidy noises while slurping the cheap orange-flavored ice candy. And thereafter sticking out the orange-tinged tongues at everyone.

Running to dad with the minutest cut and then wailing till he kisses, caresses and soothes the cut.

Cuddling up to mom on dark rainy nights.

Talking to the little plants in the garden and watching the tadpole go up-up-up-and-down.

Dream

Trailing behind a seamless course, suddenly a dream lost its way. It flung itself far and wide.

And as the eyes close, it moves a little farther away, pressing into the darkness it transcends from slumber to grey. It twirls within and echoes outside. Slowly it moves from grey to a block-white to a block-black.

And as the direction of the beholder changes, the dream - it moves away, at times too far away. Sometimes like a recluse it seems distant.

On a day with no sun and no breeze, it might just die. With no flow and no bearing. And then the meaning of loss will not matter. For the formless-ness will take over. With no where to go and nothing to lose.