Skip to main content

How well do I know you?

From the time we were together to this day when you live in me through my words, I have often asked myself how well I knew you. I have heard this spoken about myself, as to how hard it is to understand me, as if I were a mystery, a Dan Brown novel. I have known you just as well as I have known myself through you. In the fleeting moments of togetherness, I have heard my heart sync with yours and sing the same songs, dance to the same beats. I have felt two souls resonating, as if we were strung to two separate guitars but  strummed by the same cosmic guitarist. I have inhaled your shampooed hair and fell in love with the way you smell. You have breathed me in as I held you close, and from the way I could hear your heart beat, like that of a little humming bird, I knew how much you loved it with me around.

I have heard your Hindi poems late into night and I so believe that your lines are far closer to perfection than my meandering thoughts. I have crossed busy Hyderabad streets with you, helped you buy your lehanga and taught you better bad words to describe your boss. I have sat behind your Scooty and held on to you (and my dear life), and fought with cops and parking attendants. I have even suffered your seat dance through a Salman Khan movie.

Life is a roller coaster ride. The waves that peak and trough snare and separate. It is said that the sea keeps no secrets. Someday, she will return you to me.

Comments

  1. Someday - perhaps. But sometimes someday is just a code for never.


    What is DS diaries?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the visit Raajji. I keep saying that life takes a long time living. If you will long enough, all loops are closed. Life leaves no open endings.

      However, if something remains incomplete, you can always come back for more.

      DS is the name of one of my muses.

      Delete
  2. sigh...sigh........lucky woman..whoever she is....

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda,
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.

The Color That Blinds

Every time I close my eyes
I see the green of Kerala countryside
The dark greens of lumbering rubber trees
The even tranquil green of silent paddy fields
The light lemon yellow green from tender clover leaves 

And then I remember your dupatta
Deep red or possibly maroon
Standing out among the Kerala countrysides.

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known.And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these.Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.