The Epitome

A life in rewind

“Babe, I don’t mean to tell you what you already know, but maybe you need some more nutrition, hai na? I know you’re more than capable of eating for two on a good day, but you know you have to do that every day, right now na?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but obediently pulled the plate closer again. “But this is boring food! There’s no taste to this!”

“Haan na, baby, itna teekha tum kha sakti ho, baby thodi khaayegi…”

“Why? I’m sure she’ll love some achaar… Let’s try na?”

He dropped his head into his palm and laughed, “We’ll try tomorrow. For now, eat.”

She grumbled and picked up the spoon, turning towards him for another complaint, but he was too quick.

“Mmm, now you can take your time with your food, and I’ll get a nice nap” he settled comfortably on her extended legs, a pillow between her thigh and his head, “Go on, take your time.”

She sighed, sniggering to herself, and got down to finishing her food.

***

‘The mornings came too quickly these days’ she thought to herself, as she stretched and heard him already putting on his belt. The unmistakable clink of the buckle told her she’d missed the morning banter.

“You’re not coming back in, to bed?”

 He glanced at her in the mirror and smiled at the routine they’d carried on for years “No, sweets, it’s late today. Gym mein thoda zyaada time lag gaya. But I’ll come home early, and we’ll do coffee and Bournvita”

“Can I have beer?”

“Can I first have my baby?”

“Take her now only, she’s a bore, just like you. She wants to go to work.”

“Just like me, or just like you?”

“I’m a lazy ass, you’re the one who won’t come back to bed.”

“Mommy darling, you’re dying to get back to work, and you know it. You’re probably already drafting an intro mail for your daughter and setting her task list up. Okay, I’m off. Kiss?”

“Ew, no! I need to brush.”

He leaned down and kissed her belly, then grinned up at her “I wasn’t asking you.”

She began to laugh.

***

The door opened and his perfume drifted in to her before his voice did. He was on the phone.

“Hunjee, abhi ghar aaya hoon. Just got in.”

She mumbled into her pillow “You can get off the phone now, at least.”

His voice smiled out from her earpiece, and his breath tickled her shoulder “But then I won’t hear your pretty voice say ‘I love you’ over the phone na?”

She growled in response “I love you”

“Okaayy bye…”

His hand was rubbing her back now “What happened, bad day?”

“No. I’m just surrounded by idiots who don’t know their hands from their feet.”

“So, bad day.”

He was making noises with glasses and all.

“No, no! Wait! I’ve made you filter coffee. Thandi hai, bas thodi garam kar do.”

He paused, and turned to her with a frown “Why are you making me coffee at night? Don’t tell me you have work to do yaar…”

She grimaced. He wasn’t going to be happy “Not much… Just a little…”

“Yaar toh din mein kar lete na, why would you leave it for after I get home?”

“Arre abhi shaam ko aaya…”

“So, we’ve talked about this na, why would you take up a project at night?”

“It was important…”

“No yaar, you do your project, then I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”

He walked off, cup of coffee left on the table, a plate of food in his hand.

“Scoot.”

He looked up at her “Jaldi kaam khatam karo, and sleep. Don’t waste time. Again, you’ll stay up late, and be tired tomorrow.”

“No, I’m done.”

“Done with work?”

“No, work is there, I’ve pushed delivery time to tomorrow evening.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to spend time with my husband. He’s quite sexy, you know.”

***

“Pastels look gorgeous on you”

She stole a side-glance at her almost-husband “You know what a pastel is?”

He nodded, under pretence of straightening his glasses “Like the signal is a green, the pista ice cream is a pastel green; I remember.”

She stifled her laughter as her father gave her a look from across the mandap. Probably not the best time to get in touch with her sense of humour.

“Babe, suno na…”

“Hmm?”

“Aapko mujhe prompt karna padega. I have no idea what anyone is saying. Thoda distracted hoon na. Those pastels and all.”

“Damn it, I was hoping the fam would do that bit. Mujhe ghanta pata hai, what to do…”

They both stopped laughing as the pandit gave them a dirty look this time.

***

“Listen.”

“Hunjee?”

“If I quit my job, pick up my Rani of Jhansi sword and come off to your city, and convince your family, would you seriously consider spending the rest of your life with me?”

“Sure. But where would you get the sword from? And who would pay your rent?”

“Arre that I’ll manage. And rent maane, I’ll take over your business, siphon off funds as expenses, and make it vastly successful within the financial year, so you’ll never find the money taken out.”

“Oh, accha. But market down hai, and regulations are against us.”

“Haan, but I’ll probably pull a Richard Gere from Pretty Woman. Have you seen Pretty Woman?”

“What is the Richard Gere reference, but?”

“You’ve not seen Pretty Woman?”

“I HAVE, I don’t get the Richard Gere reference.”

“Oh. He basically buys big companies that are floundering and sells them off bit by bit.”

“So, you’re buying me out and selling me off?”

“Not you ya. Your company. And I’m not buying, I’m going to seduce you to sign it off to me.”

“You know it’s not really MY company to sign over to you.”

“Older people love me. That’s my concern, not yours.”

“Aight. Let’s see. My signature will come last, if you succeed in the rest.”

“Haan, but then you’ll spend na, rest of life with me? Even if I dissolve the company?”

“Kyun nahi? Raja ban ke jeeyenge.”

“I’m serious.”

“Huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“About?”

“Will you consider marrying me?”

“Babe, we talked about this…”

“I don’t give a fuck. Do you want to?”

“Yes”

“BRB, getting my sword.”

***

 

She packed up his shirt, and his t-shirt. And the note he had sent her when she’d won her major milestone. And the box from the chocolates. And put them all the corner of the cupboard.

The house still resonated with his voice. The city still threw scents of his presence at her. Her phone was strangely lighter now, and her inbox strangely empty. The ding of texts wasn’t as fun to hear anymore.

Maybe it was a coincidence that the rains had started when the final page of their storybook had been turned. Perhaps some lucky little girl in the future would read the child-friendly, happily-ever-after version of their story. Their original story was more like the German old wives’ tale version, with a gruesome ending. At least, it was gruesome for her.

‘It’s not like you’re a mermaid or a secret princess, really, what did you expect?’

She shook her head at her momentary lapse of practicality, and mentally put away the silly flights of fancy away with the clothes and the past few mementos she couldn’t bear to throw away.

Scents fade away faster than people do. But they hurt more. Scents remind you about love in a weird, integral way that kicks you in the gut and lifts you up, at the same time.

The collar, crook of the arm, and mid-torso of the shirt in her hands no longer smelled of him. It no longer reminded her of being engulfed in the protective bubble of their fairy-tale.

***

“Suno na.”

“Hmm…?”

“I think we need to talk…”

#AboutLastNight

Liquid courage, they call it;
A swig is all you need
To take life by the balls
And to chase your dreams.

One swig
And you'll stop being scared
Stop wishing you'd dared
That one time
When you ran away.

It's fight distilled from adrenaline

It's the balls to say what you mean.

Liquid courage
One swig and you're super human;

You're doing stuff they said you can't
You're breaking rules
You never believed in
You're saying words
You rehearsed
A hundred times in front of a mirror.

A sip to remember
That you're the boss
That it's your job
To take charge
Send that mail
And goddammit, ask for that raise!

Your best friend
Leading you to the dance floor
That lying bastard
Who says you're a bomb
When you're probably more a nunchuk
And that REALLY shouldn't be
Your song.

Your wingman
Who hates to see you crash and burn
But knows she's so damn far
Out of your league
That you probably shouldn't even dream of her.
A swig is all it takes

For "Hi, what're you drinking?"

That idiot
Who told you "You have a dream""
"You have a gift
Damn, you should perform your poetry
It really speaks to me"
Except they've been swigging
Pretty damn hard themselves.

Aged for years
With wisdom imbibed from
Oak casks, and brewing tanks
Microscopic bubbles of yeast-fuelled logic
Pushing their way into your mind
Telling you what you already know
Just don't have the impetus to go for.

Liquid fucking courage.
Because for some reason
Without one swig
You have a duty to suppress it
You know what you want
But you're denied it
Flight fights back
Flight comes in first place
While you cower in the back
"Bhai daaru lao..."

Almost There

I’m not perfect and I don’t expect
To really ever be
I have endless flaws but that’s just how
I know to be me
I’m a fighter, undercover
As a quiet soul
Perfection bides away its time
Till it's unleashed upon the world.

I’m not perfect, not even close yet
And I’ll never be
I’m a warrior, undercover
Till something deserves me
It won’t be perfect, I can’t expect
Anything to be
But I’ll fight if I’m convinced I should
And that this fight, I fight for me.

I’m flawed for sure, I can’t deny it
But I’m almost there
The flaws are mine to hold for life
Not something I despair
I’ll find a flaw I can complement
And then things will be perfect
But till then I’m almost there
I’m not perfect yet.

How to Meet New People After Half Your Life is Done

As a product, you're a problem
A long-term investment
No guarantee
Prone to short circuits
And hell for maintenance.

But even the battered defects you own
Have been accepted by some
But when you grow, you meet many more folks
With whom you have to make things work.

Of course, you come with an instruction manual
But that's buried deep in packaging
Which nobody will try to open
Unless you're doing some tagda marketing.

So let's try to make sense
It's an easy enough process;
Just a few steps.

Step one.

Get out of your corner

And try, na, once, to talk?

You’re fun sometimes, you also acknowledge,

So, can a tentative introduction go too wrong?

Step two.

No, don’t run away just yet

You’re human, not on a final shoot for Seinfeld

Don’t let the raised eyebrows daunt you

You’re a star, your new friends should flaunt you

Step three.

Okay maybe that was a lie

Human beings never grew out of the playground

We were annoying little shitheads as kids

And there’s still enough of us around.

Step four.

But remember, you have some friends

And you’re fairly certain they’re going to stay

So maybe take some courage from that

And make the stage fright go away?

Step five.

FYI, they’re really not worth it

You’re not fighting the playground mafia here

You won’t get bullied now, if you don’t find a group

You won’t find that you’re out of the social loop.

Step six.

Who am I kidding?

No, this isn’t a commentary

Imagine, me?

Confident, stage-smart, street-smart, will-talk-to-clients-at-a-meeting

Me?

Commenting on introvert society?

What is this pseudo-sympathy?

So what if my ears are red right now

And my palms are sweatier than the last time?

But honestly

Have you seen those photo-series?

Behind the scenes of perfection?

The background to every airbrushed video?

The “seedy underbelly” of the show?

Did you wonder if that could be true

For people walking all around you?

Because here’s step seven, from behind the scenes.

Weigh your idiosyncrasies

Find which are okay with society

And if you play your cards right

You’re not weird, but quirky.

Which brings us to step eight

Wherein all you can do is wait

To either be found by, or to find

Someone who is of like mind

But this isn’t cause for celebration

Because then things hit new escalations

With step nine, you tread with care

You’re worried just how much to share

You’re mentally flipping through 25+ years

Of complexities, oddities and fears

And as you introduce each one

You’re fully prepped to see them run

Because you’ve watched these oddities take shape

And even you know you’re a little strange.

Step ten is for those lucky ones

From whom the audience didn’t run

Because now you can finally rest

You’re in the presence of one of the best

And you’re free to embark

On the next monumental task.

Step eleven is what we call sustenance.

It’s what forms the basis for everything else

Piece by piece, you build up on

Each step which has come and gone

So your marketing strategy is now in place
You're ready to launch; complete, with game-face...

But did anyone ever bother to ask...

Why do I need to strategize to ensure I get to socialize?
What even, are you offering as a prize?
The right to interact?

Where did it begin to go wrong?
How are we letting this go on?
Who gets to decide
Which person fits, and who is better off on the outside?

May I hazard a step twelve?
I've been using it, and it's treating me well.
Don't bother.
Really, stop.
Why should you market yourself at all?
Especially to just MAKE a friend
Because that's a beginning, and not the end.

Don’t bother with making a case for you.

You’ll find your niche, like back in school

You’ll find that one other little girl

Who finds it fascinating to be in your world

And you in hers, and that’s all you need

Don’t  bother to bring her up to speed.

You’ll find each others’ oddities

Before you find the normalcy

Ideally, one day, we can all move on

And leave the marketing wars to Flipkart & Amazon

Because we're all broken

We're all oddities

Without a return policy

And why shouldn't we be?

Nobody cares what happens to perfection

It will be fine, it's programmed to be

We're all looking at the flawed

Because that is where there will be magic to see.

Recipe: Breakfast

Two mugs pulled sleepily off their hooks
Fingers fumbling where closed eyes can’t look
To see just where the kettle sits
Deftly concocting the perfect mix
Of coffee, sugar, doodh aur paani
Differing from mug to mug fractionally
Carefully chosen breakfast spread
Of a thousand dips to eat with bread
And then settle down quietly;
Two mugs, sister, toast & me.
The lull before our daily storms
Begin to rage & drag us along.
As a ritual for keeping calm,
Add some judgement, if you want
There’s no one listening in on you
Coffee, food & just you two.
Or three, or four, as per taste
But don’t add too many, or it’s a waste
Of the carefully crafted simplicity
Like with coffee, sister, toast & me.


A friendly tip; for best results, consume this mix repeatedly.

OCD

Routine to see.
Shudders from you
At my style
Which I refuse
To match to yours
Because I’m all odds:
Odd Socks. Odd Laces
Odd Rhymes
Odd Timing
Oddball Furball.

And your structure
Causes torture
Too fixed
Too matched
To match to my desire
For oddities
Among symmetry.

Straining
Against what we are, inherently
Built so differently.
Obsessive in our own degrees;
Your even keel & my extremity
Both out of sorts
With all humanity.

But we’re calmer
When we’re together
Because when two halves make one
They must fit
In symmetry
In equality
And here we agree perfectly
With each other.

Fitting cracks into cracks
Where we both broke
In unison
Where equal hurt
Rests quietly
Complementary
To the capacity
To heal

Till we’re fixed
On one reality
That obsessive-compulsively
We must be
You & Me.

#KadviKaakdi - A Bitter Tale

Like when you walk in on Friday with "plans for the night"
And find yourself right there when Sunday says goodnight.
Timeless thwarting of humanity
An out-of-nowhere whammy.
Evil hiding among friends
Revealing itself not till the end.
A toothsome treat gone badly wrong
Sorrow deployed with every dining gong
Sneaky devil in disguise
Kadvi Kaakdi... With the innocent it hides.
Like the spreading smog across the earth
That can't be traced back to its source
Rooted in pure disdain
Of anything but causing pain.
Kadvi Kaakdi crackles into the night
At every besieged diner's plight
Ageless evil is here to stay
From Birth of Nations to their Salad Days.

Narrative

You see & I see
Almost exactly the same things
What could be, or may be
But we’re never in sync
You’re half full, I’m empty
And neither of us wins
You say & I say
We see such different things.

What you saw, I missed out
I looked the other way
And by the time you turned around
My frame had already changed.
But this was your world and mine
Not a worldwide release
That you & I saw differently
Was an issue for you and me.
Your truth & mine
No longer what we meant it for
A connection for two
Not a skype call with the world

The world knows what they see
A unit despite disparity
You & I separated
From the common story.
What they read into me
And what they read into you
So different from what we know
So different from our truth.

But who can keep the world away
When they’ve picked their sides?
Now it’s about who saw it right
And picked the winning guy
You saw what I saw
For the first time, aligned
What absolutely could not be
No two ways around this time.
Both glasses half empty
A part empties away
As the world counts their winnings
And our story fades away.

Beating Retreat - An Empty Apology

Do me a favour & let go
Not of the love
Not the love, ever
Let go of the fight
The constant ceasefire
The battle scars,
The lost men,
The open wounds,
Let go!

The constant reminders
Of how we could be better
The recaps, reviews
Let's put it behind us.
The armies are tired
Weary & worn
Battered, bruised
Beaten & torn.

So let the wounds heal
Though the scars remain
Let every heart beat
Wash away the fresh pain
Let the skin stitch
Where we broke it
Let things go back to the flow
Stay away, heartbreak.
Please, just let go.

Take Flight

Steps.
Rhythmic, periodic
Like pendulums ruled by formulae
Hypnotized, hypnotic
They never question; on they sway

It doesn't matter what time of day

You'll take off and land anyway

Just follow what the uniforms say

And if you'll please step this way..

Step by step like they are told
Isolated crowds though they fly alone
A social parody, a dark comedy,

Run without a flaw
Check in, security, the final boarding call

Willingly strapped
Into a place not of your choice
Hushed & Muted
Scared to make a noise
And break the sound barriers set in place
Unspoken rules of airplanes.

Someone else's flight plans
And some other man's rules
Veiled do's & don't's
That you "Choose" to don't & do

Step by step
Filling into stiff packaging
Conveyor belt compliance
Disguised as travelling

Or travel reminding you of airplane-discipline-life
Where pretty faces & authority guide you through the skies

A prisoner of pseudo independence
As you fly & feel "Free"
Periodically strapped back in
In the interest of your safety
Suggestions politely made
Cannot, do not, I'd suggest you don't
Of course you have a say!
The final 'choice' is all your own

Only do remember
If you fail to comply
The tinfoil prison you're in
Could combust mid-flight
And God-forbid the structural hit
And the sheer volume of loss
All because you failed to listen 
And pay attention to us

As you subside into your seat
In willing submission
The slow lethargy steps in
The stagnation of oppression
Fly by night and close your eyes
Dream of when you'll be free
One day you'll close your eyes like this
And head to an epiphany

Structure & Rules work for a start
But once you're in the air
Fixed, unmoving guidelines
Are better off not there

Once the doors close & you're wished a safe flight
Just how you land

Is in your hand
A perfect 10 
Or a blaze of light

#PartOfAWhole

"Shuttered against storms
Holed up in the dark
Removed, Forbidding
Nothing would pass"

...

They warned her
As she set out alone
Told her
It could not be done
The elusive, the flighty
What she tried to find
Didn’t really exist
It was all in her mind

But on she went
Undaunted
She knew what she’d seen
What she wanted
The flashes of light & the shutter removed
That’s what she aimed for
What she wanted to do



*This poem was originally about something very different.
But it could so easily be something more.

Asleep

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
When we curl up to block in the heat
When arms touch arms and chest to cheek
New rhythms awaken as we breathe.

I wonder who listens to that new beat
Lungs expanding & contracting peacefully
Fitting into crevices like they were made for me
Arms tightening around you more securely

I wonder who reads my mind just then
And knows what hasn't been spoken
I wonder who slows down time a bit
Without either of us realizing it

I wonder who's watching when we sleep
Who sees me struggle to keep
My eyes shut tight a little longer
Determined that morning will not conquer

I wonder if there's a way that they
They could find a way for us to stay
Undisturbed a little bit
Curled up together just like this.

Flight

We flew, the two of us

Our wings

Took us higher

And higher,

Soaring on thermals of sniggers

And stifled laughter

Snide remarks 

Sarcastic chatter

We could spot them from afar;

Our twin minds tearing them apart

Finding the humour

Where they found their sneers

Not one of them had a chance

Back to back, we were fierce

Nobody could touch us

Anyone who brought shadows was banished

Broken down

Bit by bit 

Punished

For daring to divert the sun

From a face that was made for sunshine

Made of sunshine

We weren't wrong,

We were protectors

Of the sunlight

Of the brightness

Of each other

Untouchable

Unreachable

Un--

Till a breeze at my back woke me

Till my wings lost strength

Till, tumbling to earth

Surrounded by silence

I opened my eyes

And saw you miles below

Disintegrating

Dust to dust...

We were so busy fighting the world

We forgot to guard ourselves.

Against ourselves.

The Tulsi

The gloom had descended before lunchtime.

Everyone around, adept at reading the signs of their world, started moving that much faster, in a hurry to reach shelter. He fought every urge to crawl into bed as the assault began.

The rain would stop, it would slacken and slow, at the very least, he was sure of it. 6 hours later, he was still chanting the same mantra... It will stop, it will stop...

Around him, there were rickshaws stalled, their drivers pushing them out of the traffic, drenched to the bone and losing money by the second. He knew he should be thankful that he hadn't met the same fate, but part of him wanted the excuse to stop.

Tired, exhausted and in the middle of a fight with his previous customer, at 8pm, he met her. Spurred on by habit, he responded with a "Haanji." when she asked him if he would take her where she wanted to go.

She got in, waiting patiently while he waited impatiently for his money. "Kya hua?"

That distracted him. Nobody usually cared... Who was this girl?

She was nice looking. Looked tired, but nodded in understanding as he told her his problem. Taking his money from the previous customer, he kickstarted his vehicle and they started their ride. "Ek kaam karoge?"

She wanted to go further, but wanted him to bring her back. She asked him if he minded. The unexpected kindness made him say yes.

It was a long ride. There was a mini flood. There was traffic. But she chatted with him... About his auto, about the tulsi plant he had bought that morning, about the traffic, about the rain... She spoke with him, not at him...

He looked back at her as he replied, once, and saw that she was looking right at him, interested in his answers, not looking at her phone or outside.

His vehicle had never felt like a chariot before. As he battled the waves of the monsoon, he felt like a warrior, taking precious cargo into a warzone. It made the day better; at 9.30pm, his day seemed brighter than it had at 2pm.

Dropping her home, he felt exhausted as he felt the vehicle get lighter, as she got out. With a light "Yeh lo bhaiyya, thank you!" she left, walking off, shaking her arms to get rid of the water.

He unfolded the notes she'd given him & stared at his meter. She'd overpaid.

He looked down at his tulsi plant, swaying in the momentum of the ride.

"Maante ho?" she'd asked him... If he didn't before, he did now.

Happy Old Year

There's nothing new about a New Year

Same messages, different number

Same resolutions to be broken later

Different settings on New Year's Eve

Same condition in which you'll leave

The year has gone, it's throwback time

To what you did with yours & I with mine

Did plans, resolutions & reality align

Different people, different friends

But it's the same. Every year ends.

It's not about the future at all

The turn of the year is nostalgia's call

To think of the past while you're enthralled

By the shining light of an unknown tomorrow

Your mind looks back on joys & sorrows

There's no other time for you to turn back

Once 1st Jan begins, you'll be back on track

Not that you don't want to, it's time you'll lack

So 31st at midnight, you look up to the sky

And think back to the year that went by

As cheers of Happy New Year ring out

It's a toast to all you thought about

A salute to the old, without a doubt

Because you would not be where you are now

Without the 365 you lived through somehow.

Inked

You'll be safe here
A memory. And a reminder.
Pencil fades, ink washes off paper
Ballpens... Seem to go on forever...

But soon we'll run out of ink
Papers will wear out, will rip
But you'll be safe, I know this
Because I can make your memory stick

I can't trust pen & paper to keep you safe
For years I tried, but always failed
Memories inevitably fade away
So I'll keep you safe in my own way.

This won't wash off, this will stay

Losing you now would mean
Ripping part of my skin away.

Last Dance

Save the last dance for me
The one where the band
Recycles all the old beats
The one you'll debate sitting out
The night is almost over, you admit defeat
Lose that argument
Get off your seat
Because you're dancing that one with me.
That waltz where the floor's almost empty
Where by now, it's only alcohol, not energy
And it will be just you & me
And a dance we'll share for eternity.
Not the first, with the awkward moves
Nor later, the beats pulsing through the room
We'll wait for it, there's no hurry
As long as you promise to dance with me.
We'll hum quietly along to the tune they play
A mellow, sepia end to the day
It won't matter who you danced with in between
The last one, you will reserve for me.
So at the end of the day, at the end of it all
I know it will be me you'll call
Together, you & I, we'll fall
Into a rhythm that will play on
And it will happen so naturally
I'll hold you & you'll hold me
Nobody, nothing else left to see
Because you're dancing your last dance
With me.

Aaji's Fridge

We're all a bunch of nomads
We don't have roots, we have a family tree
4 daughters, 8 grand-daughters & assorted family
Who all set out to travel as far as could be
Festivals were different wherever we would be
Even the hours moved very differently
Days passed by at different speeds
Reunions became distant dreams
But there's one place we gathered at
One place that remained
Aunts, cousins, husbands cats
One place to which we came

Open the door and take a look
You'll spot all parts of the globe
Work, travel, business & fun
Snapshots from wherever we'd go
Spices sourced from Italy
Saffron straight from Spain
Chocolates from Duty Free
And achaar always remained
We never met all at once
What with work, life, college, kids...
But we still connected somehow
In the interiors of my Aaji's fridge

No matter who, or where they were
We brought back lovely things to eat
Because we knew, once safely stored
They'd be the way the family meets
That fridge is a symbol of the family
Each taste different, each choice unique
Each ready to partake cheerfully
Of the complete insanity

There was always something for you there 

Whoever you were, there would be

Something special just for you 

Included in the mix carefully 

You knew, whenever you rummaged through

You were where you had a right to be

It wasn't just another fridge

It was a tribute to family

I don't know where that fridge will go now
Nor does the machine matter to me
I only wish, somewhere, somehow
We find another excuse to meet
How else will we share the love
What else could we use to bridge
Time zones, people, countries without
The central point of Aaji's fridge?
Where will home-made bhaaji meet
The sinful chocolate of the Swiss
Where else will the fancy Cheese
Meet gharcha loncha in total peace?
Our melting pot is unhooked now
The shelves morose & empty
We'll find another, there's no doubt
And on those shelves, again we'll meet
But the central point will always be
The shelves of my Aaji's fridge
Where we returned religiously
Despite work, life, college or kids.

Sepia

She could close her eyes and it was all right there in HD.
His voice took her back to days she had wished would never end.
The tree with those trailing tendrils in one corner, the cats running in and out of view, the uneven feel of the stone seating. She could feel herself back in those magical moments as sunshine faded to cool poetry. It was like they were back there, meeting awkwardly for the second or third time, and she could see the clear browns of his eyes.
The breezes kicked up as she heard him telling her about his night. He ran his hand through his hair, unconsciously, maybe, as he relived his memory. She saw him close his eyes and touch his forehead with three fingers as he spoke of the emotion that had taken his by surprise.
The lights came on, then, and shadows flew around the space they shared... His voice fluctuated from laden with memory to brisk and practical. His surprise laughs were like stray winds that rushed to catch up with the breeze that had passed by. His clear eyes has a disconcerting habit of looking at her, and then sprinting around, wanting to catch as much as they could, finding more stories to tell, more hearts to touch... Till Silence began descending, slowly, softly, and she knew it was nearing the end of her flash to sepia. He began to fade, concluding their conversation much before she was ready to let it go.
She frantically tried to go back; she closed her eyes, fervently hoping that this was a dream, and that in reality, there were really back there, talking about coding and social media. She wanted another chance to meet him for the first time, the second time, the 50th time... Not like this, not virtually. Work was virtual, this was life, this was poetry, this was potent...
And it deserved more than a WhatsApp voicenote in return.

Space & Time

Millions of hearts flew to Pluto today
A journey of 9 years covered in a moment.
What better way to avoid Heartbreak?
They'll be far away when things end.
It's far enough away to keep them safe
So many Clark Kents to populate
Hopefully they'll return one day
Super-hearts that just love and never break
For now, there's a sinking emptiness
A feeling of approaching doom
I can see my world coming to an end
I can feel the pull away from you
The room stretches and morphs around us
The few feet are now so much more
Memories don't fade, your voice echoes
My heart's better off sent to Pluto