Picture Postcard

The necklace road was just as well lit as any other day. Its park benches occupied by lovers of all hues. The lake was full of sail boats and the Buddha as usual, held on to his smile. I remember that the rain surprised all of us. It came in waves, slightly slanting, beating down relentlessly. I would have run into the car, had you not stopped me that day.

That evening, I walked in the rain with you. Hand in hand, you holding on tight so that I don't take a shelter to save my buckaroo leather, and I taking delight in watching you dancing in the rain. That was the first time I got wet in the rain...and did not mind it all that much.

Moving On.

I open my door and almost see you sitting there, angry that you could not get the air-conditioning on. Is that small speck of red on my yellow tea cup a stain from your lipstick? I ride my car and I can see you sitting next to me, glaring at those jealous guys staring at you. There are six strands from your hair that I saved from the last time you were home. A green elastic band sits lonely in my bathroom shelf.

A bindi stares at me from my dressing room mirror.

So much of my memory is stained forever. I am no longer what I remember. All I remember is you.

Rain on my window sills

As the rains drum down my windows
I open them a little to allow a sprinkle
Of the showers you so loved
Wet me once more.

There is nothing that i write
That can bring you back once more.

One Wave at a Time

I can hear your voice on the other side of the phone. Its like some lonesome wave spent from a long voyage crashing unto my shores. I love it when you crash into my world. I love the overwhelming sense of being drenched by you. I love the mysterious stories you tell me of magical lands. I love how you try to make it up for all the time we lost by speaking too fast, running out of breath.

I love the way you explore yourself around my loneliness from you. I love the faint sense of unease in your tone, as you try to find out if I am the same edges you rounded off from all these years of random onslaught.

I love the saltiness of my soul that you leave behind.

My Silences

Don't judge me by my silences. They don't divulge the whole story. There is a story that runs in my mind. I carry it's lines in my thoughts and live its scenes in my life. I am the Macbeth and the Othello. I am also the Romeo in my story.

You are omnipresent. It is as if the script revolves around you. You are in each scene, ever chapter every line.

And as the curtain comes down on me, you dissolve into my mind, like a dark cloud of my own making. Taking weird forms of my own perception.

Don't judge me by my silences. There was never a moment in my life, when I stopped talking to you.

आज़ादी

आज़ादी हम भी चाहते हैं
तुमसे आज़ादी।
तुम्हारे मांगों से आज़ादी
ये दंगों से आज़ादी
जिन शोलों में तुम हो लिपटते
मेरे आशाओं से भरे तिरंगे को
मेरी आन, मेरी शान,
मेरे ज़मीर के निशानी को
उन शोलों से आज़ादी।
जिस आक्रोश से मार गिराते हो
मेरे चमन के लाडलों को
मेरे वतन के सिपाहियों को
उस आक्रोश से आज़ादी।

आज़ादी हम भी चाहते हैं
तुमसे आज़ादी
जिस मिटटी कि खुश्बु है हिंदुस्तानी
जिस मिटटी में है सिमटी
यादें हमारी तुमसे कई पुरानि,
चाहते है हम भी आज़ादी
तुमसे
उस मिटटी की आज़ादी।

केहना तो बहुत कुछ है दोस्त
पर है हम पर भी कुछ पाबन्दी,
ये तुम्हे है अब सोचना
तुम्हारी मांग जो है आज़ादी
है किस्से ये आज़ादी
हमारे मिटटी से तुम्हारी
या तुम्हारी सोच से
है हमारी आज़ादी?
आज़ादी हम भी चाहते हैं,
तुमसे आज़ादी।

.... This is my attempt to voice the intense unhappiness that the state of affairs in our state of Kashmir is causing to every Indian. I wish our politicians and media would stand up for the country rather than help us burn down our own attic. The land from where flows down this ancient civilization, the land where our greatest sages once tread unhindered, and our oldest thoughts rest, cannot be lost.  Must not be lost, whatever the cost. Whatever the cost.