Works of RK

Long train journeys make me sad. The gentle lyre that plays some sad Chinese melody in the background of our everyday lives, suddenly comes afore. The notes from their pathos drown me. As in a trance, I find myself staring at concrete sleepers and iron tracks, my eyes brimming with ancient tears. I have often wondered why this happens. Maybe because long train journeys remind me of my childhood. Reminds me of a life full of beautiful loving people. Some have traveled to the edges of these railroads and faded out of sight, some have merged with these tracks and what remains of them are the sounds from these clanging wheels of an ageing memory and iron dust. This rattling reminds me of a journey that all of us have to undertake. This long untiring unending relentless journey on iron wheels, hooting, halting, changing lanes, always running. I bid goodbyes to those who have arrived. As I hurtle towards my own destination, I take a quick look at those who i travel with. When my time comes,

I have felt your heart beat At my finger tips I have felt the heightened fluttering In your being From my being. I carry within me forever the warmth From that near embrace The moonlight that lends a sparkle To the glitter in your lashes Reminds me of that night When I first realized That the heart that beats near mine Is just as mine Only closer.

Before I knew you, I did not know myself. Before I knew you, I thought I knew myself. I did not know that a stray wind carrying in its fold a faint fragrance from yore, would make my heart miss a beat, stop time and freeze me in its eternal moment. I did not know that a laughter from a stranger would reverberate across an ocean of full of shackled memories, and huge tidal waves of your thoughts, could drown me into eternal grief . I did not know that I will catch myself so often, intensely staring at strangers in red, for red was your favourite colour. Before I knew you, I thought I had conquered love and were immune to it. Before I knew you, I was barely human.

My mamma speaks of the time when I was a four year old. One day, I jumped on one side of an empty refrigerator stand, and the other side came and hit me on my face. The stand was made of iron and I hurt my eyebrow bad. I went about playing until the blood started clouding my vision and staining the floor. It was then that my aunt looked out of the window and screamed out of fear and surprise. It was her scream that scared me. I started crying as well, rubbing all that blood from my slit eyebrows all over my face. It hurt bad. The doc gave me 6 stitches to get my brow back in shape. I still have them right there. After the stitches, mamma says that I would play around all day and occasionally weep with the pain from the stitches. I will sing, laugh, run and fight, and then cry some as well. It was funny, watching me hop around with a huge bandage on one eye, it was also heart rending for her. I was all of four years old when that happened. Mamma, nothing much has changed. The pain now,

TWO SHADES TOO BLUE I watch the empty window-side table closely. For this used to be your favourite place. Here you would sip your half cup tea And pout and look out of the window longingly. You will point to people going about their everyday lives,  and like a little princess, you will weave stories, and chuckle and laugh Your presence had a way of making my little house Feel full. It was as if you filled my walls with shades That made then come to life. As if suddenly, Being a dining table was an important achievement, And that wall hanging Would acquire a personality, and indulgently Glare at me; as if this were its house, not mine. I now look at the empty space besides my window. Baby , it was your favourite spot. And watching you My favourite moment. First published in Muse India, Jan-Feb 2017

That constant pulse of missing That heightened anticipation of a change That would never come. I miss you so much That I could not even write these lines Until now For the fear that these lines will fail to tell The sadness that surrounds my soul And the emptiness that walks with me Reminding me Of just how much you will forever Mean to me. This shell of my being Is a soulless godless place And without you the colors fade As if they just gave up their shades Now that you are not looking. Its not your fragrance that I miss Its not the exquisite beauty of your being No I do not miss you The way people miss people. Baby, I miss your love. I miss your look. I miss you missing me.

I no longer live in your secret places.  I am aware that relationships change, perspectives change and so do people with it. But the heart wants what it wants. I look into your eyes and I don't see myself there anymore. You look at me and I know that you are not looking at me anymore. But the heart wants what it wants.

As you ride along long winding lanes of your life, And as you take each blind turn And live out its destiny; Remember my friend I too would have passed that way One car distance away, Taking those very same turns with you Ahead of you, For you. And if you ever feel lonely in the ride The seat next to me is empty And I would love you by my side. ------------ Inspired by NFS-The Movie,

Every once in a long while, I fall silent in midst of a roaring relationship. I wait for the clutter of last night chatter to subside and the noise from everyday thoughts to settle down, and then I watch how my withdrawing affects the relationship. Most times, the silence stretches uneasily. It is as if somebody has paused a Schwarzenegger movie. It is as if an icicle forgot to drip, a snowflake landed on another and I were in a dream where the bogey man scared me to silence.

I have never seen an ocean. I don't know anyone who has seen one. Growing up by the Ganges, I was in awe with the angry river that overflowed every year. I looked at Baccha uncle's marooned steamer and imagined the ghosts that lived within its iron soul. When I first saw the sea, I also sensed the roundness of the horizon, the fullness of its brims and the infiniteness of the waves. If I were to sing on a dark silent night, l knew that my song would not reach the other shore. The sea dwarfed me into nothingness. It made me feel like a handful of water held up to the sun as an offering and then running down the fingers, back into the sea. Like an errant stream, I run a crazy winding course downhill. But my dear, I know that when I am done, I will meander my way back to you. I can feel my rush as I fall into you. I know what awaits me, as I dive deep into you. I too, fill you. I loose myself so that there can be you.