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Beats in so many places

I read that there was a fire in Andover, near Boston.
I pinged her and saw the double tick
An hour later, a message, I am safe, don't worry.
The heart beats in such distant places.
People die long before they are dead.

Time

Can I borrow you
From a Feynman’s Future
And hide you in my memory corridors
Forever locked
In blocks of eternal presentness?

Can I be with you
Without actually having to be
For that would require of me
To consume time
Grow old and die

I don’t want to fight
Entropy
I just want to be
In space outside of time
Just you and me

Back to the source

You live in those places in me
From where memory is first born
Where thoughts unfettered by fate
And untouched by destiny
Takes birth on its own free will
And lives on with a single desire

The desire to be one
With you.

Nothing else that matters
Matter,

Empty Houses

In the little moments of conscious clarity, between muddled minds, huddled bodies and cluttered spaces of my everyday living, I keep going back to the time we met last and said our last goodbyes.

If I knew that you would move into the mist and be one with the fog and the darkening caves;
If I knew that the somersaults of your mind would exile me into the realms of the unknown, and that you would take my place, my face and my being in you
and consume it to an ancient memory …

Maybe I would have held you back a little closer.
Hugged you a little tighter, smelt you a little longer, allowed your entangled hairs to ease out of my fingers, a little slower.

Maybe, just maybe, I would have gone for that one last kiss...

Why does it not rain...like rain?

Why does it rain in little drizzles
And not just pour it's heart out
All at once and for all time, into all places
Into the roads the canals and the drains

Why does it not rain, like rain?

Why not just roar
And with a thunderous wail
Cause a cloudburst
Break a Dam
Deluge a city
Annihilate

Why does it not rain like rain?

If only I could think of you,
Just once
Instead of having to think
In drizzles and drops and sobs
And in between shadows
And all this chaos

If I could think of you
For the last time,
Like a cloudburst
And then
In one brilliant tragic flood
Be washed away and be gone
Forever, With all this slush
And all this mud.

Some lives

The dawn was breaking across the horizon.
I could see crimson orange streaks of sunlight getting scattered in the morning mist.
This was the time she generally got up and walked to the kitchen. The time when, with ruffled hairs and a wrinkled nighty, all dark and broody, she would look out of the balcony and breathe in another day. A day that would be broody or cranky or happy, depending on what mood she woke up with.

The Sunlight that streaks across the clouds of an oncoming monsoon would also be shining down her windowpane just now. Just now, she would also be looking up at the sky. Just now, she would also be alive in some other part of the world, thinking about everything but me.

I watched the sun hang in there for a moment, as if asking of me to move ahead and stop thinking about her.
And then I stopped thinking about her, and the day moved on.

The Space is a cold place

Were you two really close once?
I don't know. Never really thought about it that way. I always liked to believe that I was close to her. But then I will never really know, right?


And now?
And now I know that I am not. I am no longer a moon, and she no longer is my Sun. From where I live now, she is more like a distant star, and I, a satellite, unhinged.

Winds of Change

As you move from being an institution in my mind to just another person, all those definitions and all those expectations, too, transition through time.

You for me
Are like an old world Talkie
Where once, small town movies
Played to uncouth rustic folks like me.

I romanticize my pain
And I glorify my losses.
All movies that played here
In my mind,
Were blockbuster movies
And all actors
Were characters
From my little life with you.

Once we down the shutters
For long enough in time
Time would cure me
Of my countryside memories
Of whistling of the trains
And the running in the rain.

I will remember you
Like I want to
You will forget me
Like you are wont to.

If a drop could Color an Ocean

If a drop could color an Ocean
You my dear,
Would be that drop
And my life an endless 
                              Expanse of you.

The Long Sleep

In the little lies I tell myself
Lying awake late into nights
Between sheets as cold
As your last remembered gaze
I find myself thinking about you
In endless hellish loops.

Wind in your hair
The Sun in your eyes
The gloss, the glitter
And the sudden burst
Of laughter...

And then everything
Turns bitter

If only there was one Death
Like the last blip  On a matrix like screen
And then
N.o.t.h.i.n.g...

@The Agartala Airport

These Tribal colors are alluring. Bright reds interlaced with dark of the greens. The beads, the shimmer of coarse native silk and the anticipation of making a sale, in Pinky Das' eyes!
Madam will be very happy, she said. The stole will go well with the beads.
I keep buying stuff
Imagining
That someday you will walk in
And ask for them.
I keep living
Forgetting
That the leather case from last year
And the mustard silk batik from last month
Remain cocooned in their shells
Awaiting redemption
From their misery
Of being with me.

Absolution

I looked at the rampage on the pages.
Words scribbled in search of redemption
And stricken off by sins of despair.
Surely, this is not the promised road to Elysium.
Nothing would grow
Out of these half bled out pages
and an ancient pen.
I have to go out into the world and seek my redemption.

- - - -

These open windows
Let streaks of sunlight drift in
Reeking of her light

Dead Dry

The earth is so withered  From its longing for you
The reeds of your memories
Have shriveled dry and bled
Into parchments of forever tales.
Now my dear, There will no longer
Be any death for you

Objects in the rear-view mirror are…

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more. 
And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair