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Showing posts from 2019

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