What The Stars Know And I Don't

The Lake

Beseeching
I look at the stars
Twinkling as scars
On the dark landscape of my memory.

Screeching
My words in my ears
Mere seconds converted to years
From the time you left me.

Pleading
My heart to for his love
For the heaven above
To pull aside the curtain of fury.

Feeling
The arrogance turn to dust
The soul poised to burst
Into a million shreds of agony.

PC - Mohit Tyagi

I sat alone, alone with the stars, remembering the tick-tock of his steps hurrying out of our house. The tick-tock of his leaving resonated till much later in the sounds of the clock. Time serves as a reminder of his love and my envy, his embrace and my pride, his loyalty and my doubt. I’m sitting, sitting along, gazing at the stars, to spot a speck of his reflection.

I know not where he is. Probably the stars do.

Winter Notebook - Saudade

At times, I feel like cleansing it all. 
All of it. 
The faces. The love.
The simple. The tough. 
The pleasure. The groans.
The kisses. 
The races, against time.
The words, which seldom rhymed.
The bonds. The myths. 
The cuddles. The rifts. 
The playfulness. 
The kicks
I got out of
Knowing I am the special one
For him
And for her. 
You know what they do? 
They shamelessly display glee. 
In tasteless pictures
Clicked in abhorrent corners of the world
Which now they call new zones
Of friendliness. Of love. 
I feel like cleansing it all. 
All if it. 

I'll just hold memories. 
You know, I own them. 
I can kiss them gently 
Or smother them in my imagination. 
They're fine, really. 
These memories I use to torture myself. 

Of moments that will not come back ever, 
Or which perhaps did not exist in the first place. 

Photo by Achint Mathur

I do not have great things to write about, but the irony between the word (shared today on twitter by Tarique Anwer, a dear friend) and my thoughts struck me. This irony was special and ironical, because all the thoughts of 'cleansing' are borne out of a 'yearning'. So, the paradox is actually the essence. Okay. I am losing it. But you get this story, right? At some point, it must have been your story too. Now, it is my story. 

Kitaabon Sa Rishta - Part II

Meri sard kahaani mein kahaani nahi
Chai ki chuski jaise aaya woh
Kitaabon par jo dhabbe chhod jaati hai
Mehekti adrak ki pyaali jaisa aaya woh
Barfeeli raaton mein rooh ko garmahat de jaaye
Behkaate, chuskiyaan lete lamho jaisa aaya woh
Har roz chai chadhaane ka hausla de jaaye
Subah ke zayke jaisa aaya woh
Dil kuchh khush hua, kuchh majboor
Uske paas ja baithi, khud se door
Ab usmein hi toh main rehne lagi thi na
Khushk haathon mein mehendi mehendi mehekne lagi thi na
Usne safed nahi, laal sehra bandh liya tha
Mujhe laal dupatte mein samete, saath dhaank liya tha
Uski athkeliyaan mann mein goonj uthi aise
Ki ris rahi ho uske hasi mein bachpan ki maasoomiyat jaise
Khayaal dar khayaal woh mere paas aata raha
Lamha dar lamha mujhse door hota raha
Aankhri saans tak saath nibhaana yaad raha usse
Woh saans mere aaghosh mein leke ka nata yaad raha usse. 

PS - This is part II of a four part poem. You can read the first part here - Kitaabon Sa Rishta - Part I