With every conversation you take a part of me,
With every smile you piece those parts together,
With every song sung you settle in the deepest corners,
And With every word written you dwell in me.
You create a me that only knows you.
And all I want is..
To sit forever in the shade of your sunshine
To swim forever in the melody of your voice
To walk hand in hand with you all the way
To live by awakening in your eyes every morning
To travel with the scent of the rose you put in your hair
To sip chai from the cup that drowns our sorrows
To dance forever in the rain that ignites our night
To laugh forever in the echos of your heart
All I want is to create a universe with my own constellation of stars where our hearts shine the brightest
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Everything around us
My love feeds off your love.
For my soul is intertwined with yours.
Like a vine, which grows
rising out of the wind
with its buds sprouting
and blooming into those delicate flowers
which you play around with
and place in your hair.
Your love grows out of mine
Like the air and water
nourishing my presence.
So that I may thrive
and let those flowers bloom.
And with every blush of colour
your smile reverberates
and stirs me higher.
As if these elements of life
are present merely to amuse
our whims.
We are weaved into their existence
as they are into ours.
For my soul is intertwined with yours.
Like a vine, which grows
rising out of the wind
with its buds sprouting
and blooming into those delicate flowers
which you play around with
and place in your hair.
Your love grows out of mine
Like the air and water
nourishing my presence.
So that I may thrive
and let those flowers bloom.
And with every blush of colour
your smile reverberates
and stirs me higher.
As if these elements of life
are present merely to amuse
our whims.
We are weaved into their existence
as they are into ours.
How to forget memories.
She left her umbrella,
old books of forgotten love,
tragedies and comedies
Her fragile heart.
days of silence.
corners built for reading
and locking the world out.
corners of joy
She left that carpet on the floor.
where she would sit and play endlessly
she would make-believe
lie down
and dream
She left the memories of those dreams
behind.
She left her dirty converse
That old blue jacket,
Her favourite hairclip.
on the dressing table
that she didn't take.
She left those comics on the coffee table.
and the little notes
she wrote to herself.
Her puppy's collar
and the fish bowl.
She threw a white sheet
over that worn down sofa
where she would sit and watch
silly romantic comedies
till her eyes grew heavy.
The picture frames were turned
down, with those pictures
still nested in them.
The swing her father built
on that tree in her garden
was abandoned too.
She broke away from it all.
Save her emotions.
and as much as she tried.
her being trapt in those moments.
old books of forgotten love,
tragedies and comedies
Her fragile heart.
days of silence.
corners built for reading
and locking the world out.
corners of joy
She left that carpet on the floor.
where she would sit and play endlessly
she would make-believe
lie down
and dream
She left the memories of those dreams
behind.
She left her dirty converse
That old blue jacket,
Her favourite hairclip.
on the dressing table
that she didn't take.
She left those comics on the coffee table.
and the little notes
she wrote to herself.
Her puppy's collar
and the fish bowl.
She threw a white sheet
over that worn down sofa
where she would sit and watch
silly romantic comedies
till her eyes grew heavy.
The picture frames were turned
down, with those pictures
still nested in them.
The swing her father built
on that tree in her garden
was abandoned too.
She broke away from it all.
Save her emotions.
and as much as she tried.
her being trapt in those moments.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Building that melody.
The muse is chosen.
The thoughts are thought.
The sentiment cultivated.
The page is opened.
The pen is drawn.
The coffee is sipped.
The words are written.
The words are crossed.
The words are rhymed.
the words are thrown around.
The stanzas are filled.
Love. Lust. Passion.
And the dirtiest of dirty words
Promising.
The guitar is placed.
And the chords are set.
The mood is shaped.
And the tune is built.
The tune is forgotten.
The tune is reinvented.
The chorus is ready.
and so is the bridge.
The voice is sung.
The voice is recorded.
The track is ready.
The melody formed.
The star is famous.
No autographs please.
The thoughts are thought.
The sentiment cultivated.
The page is opened.
The pen is drawn.
The coffee is sipped.
The words are written.
The words are crossed.
The words are rhymed.
the words are thrown around.
The stanzas are filled.
Love. Lust. Passion.
And the dirtiest of dirty words
Promising.
The guitar is placed.
And the chords are set.
The mood is shaped.
And the tune is built.
The tune is forgotten.
The tune is reinvented.
The chorus is ready.
and so is the bridge.
The voice is sung.
The voice is recorded.
The track is ready.
The melody formed.
The star is famous.
No autographs please.
What if?
What if the world around us would collapse and crumble. All those dreams we built over these years would atrophy.
Well, we would draw the curtains and make our own wonderland. Wrap each other in a warm blanket and think of new things. We'd keep those evil eyes at bay and wipe out those monsters from under our bed. In fact, we'd lie under the bed just to make sure.
We wouldn't ponder over the past or worry about what's to come. We'd just have those songs on loop and play our silly games. There would be happiness, and chai. This would be our own fairytale. No villains, no complicated plots, no sinful apples or suppressed emotions. All there would be is strawberries and cream. We wouldn't have to worry about the candles dying. We'd create our own light.
We'd secretly write letters and stuff them in nooks and crannies. Discover what's written for us. Smile and make paper planes out of them and see which one flies the furthest. We would fly with them, of course. Into the clouds. And build those castles, and slide down the bean stalk, with those golden eggs.
There would be no alarm to wake us up and no moon to put us to sleep. We wouldn't care about the milk or sugar in our tea, because it would be perfect with us. We could make believe. Jump. And mess up our hair. Walk on our tip toes or stomp the floor. Listen. Sit in each others silence, and look at each other for hours. Only there would be no one to count those hours or days..or years.
There would be no phones to bother us.Or bees to hide from. There would be no winter to make us shiver. No weeks of the day to irk us. No time to bind us. No virtues. No vices. Only romantic movies.
We would make our own colours. Mix Magenta and green. Throw the yellows and reds. They would be our colours, our paintings, our life.
So what if the world around us crumbles, We'd build our very own. Yes Mam, indeed!
Well, we would draw the curtains and make our own wonderland. Wrap each other in a warm blanket and think of new things. We'd keep those evil eyes at bay and wipe out those monsters from under our bed. In fact, we'd lie under the bed just to make sure.
We wouldn't ponder over the past or worry about what's to come. We'd just have those songs on loop and play our silly games. There would be happiness, and chai. This would be our own fairytale. No villains, no complicated plots, no sinful apples or suppressed emotions. All there would be is strawberries and cream. We wouldn't have to worry about the candles dying. We'd create our own light.
We'd secretly write letters and stuff them in nooks and crannies. Discover what's written for us. Smile and make paper planes out of them and see which one flies the furthest. We would fly with them, of course. Into the clouds. And build those castles, and slide down the bean stalk, with those golden eggs.
There would be no alarm to wake us up and no moon to put us to sleep. We wouldn't care about the milk or sugar in our tea, because it would be perfect with us. We could make believe. Jump. And mess up our hair. Walk on our tip toes or stomp the floor. Listen. Sit in each others silence, and look at each other for hours. Only there would be no one to count those hours or days..or years.
There would be no phones to bother us.Or bees to hide from. There would be no winter to make us shiver. No weeks of the day to irk us. No time to bind us. No virtues. No vices. Only romantic movies.
We would make our own colours. Mix Magenta and green. Throw the yellows and reds. They would be our colours, our paintings, our life.
So what if the world around us crumbles, We'd build our very own. Yes Mam, indeed!
Closer Home.
"You can never tell what people have inside them, until you start taking it away"
I never thought I'd understand how relevant this statement is when I read it in Shantaram, until now. I was walking back home in the bitter cold, with layers and layers of warm woollens piled up on me, with these Bollywood songs blasting in my ears, when it hit me.I realised how much I miss my people, my food, my humidly annoying weather,my family, my overpopulated buses, my spicy food, my bollywood dramas, My Country. Its funny how I've had to come so far away from all this to realise its worth. How I've had to be thrown into another country, forced to eat their food and mingle with them, to realise how much my country means to me. No, dont get me wrong, its not an aversion from any particular country that has drawn me towards mine. Its the love and respect thats surfaced, because I can't take my country for granted.
And it has come naturally over these past months. My overenthusiastic interest in the IPL, following Bollywood with an even closer eye, dancing on songs I never imagined myself dancing on. These may seem very superficial, but these are the only strings that keep me attached to what I love, who I love and where I belong. Because you dont know what you've got till its gone.
And no matter where I stay on this globe, No matter where my wanderlust feet take me. It will be a journey to bring me closer home. Full Circle.
I never thought I'd understand how relevant this statement is when I read it in Shantaram, until now. I was walking back home in the bitter cold, with layers and layers of warm woollens piled up on me, with these Bollywood songs blasting in my ears, when it hit me.I realised how much I miss my people, my food, my humidly annoying weather,my family, my overpopulated buses, my spicy food, my bollywood dramas, My Country. Its funny how I've had to come so far away from all this to realise its worth. How I've had to be thrown into another country, forced to eat their food and mingle with them, to realise how much my country means to me. No, dont get me wrong, its not an aversion from any particular country that has drawn me towards mine. Its the love and respect thats surfaced, because I can't take my country for granted.
And it has come naturally over these past months. My overenthusiastic interest in the IPL, following Bollywood with an even closer eye, dancing on songs I never imagined myself dancing on. These may seem very superficial, but these are the only strings that keep me attached to what I love, who I love and where I belong. Because you dont know what you've got till its gone.
And no matter where I stay on this globe, No matter where my wanderlust feet take me. It will be a journey to bring me closer home. Full Circle.
i
I am Life
I exist between heaven and hell
flowing through your veins.
breathing sights
and colours.
I am magic
that white rabbit
with the ticking clock
taking you on a magic carpet ride.
The world stops
and time flows
I am that impossible escape
you want for yourself.
I am my muse
I am my thought
I am what you see
I am curiosity
tell me what you see
and I will make you discover
I am birth
where your thoughts emerge
where your mind stops.
I am sand
that memory you hold onto
that memory that wanes away
from the palm of your hands.
I am I.
Use me
destroy me
as I join the unbroken cycle of rebirth.
I am death.
I am mist.
I am sunshine.
that constant discord
in my world.
I exist between heaven and hell
flowing through your veins.
breathing sights
and colours.
I am magic
that white rabbit
with the ticking clock
taking you on a magic carpet ride.
The world stops
and time flows
I am that impossible escape
you want for yourself.
I am my muse
I am my thought
I am what you see
I am curiosity
tell me what you see
and I will make you discover
I am birth
where your thoughts emerge
where your mind stops.
I am sand
that memory you hold onto
that memory that wanes away
from the palm of your hands.
I am I.
Use me
destroy me
as I join the unbroken cycle of rebirth.
I am death.
I am mist.
I am sunshine.
that constant discord
in my world.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
This one goes miles
Today my friend organised an Anti Frown Protest in her University. They were people walking around in Bright coloured t shirts handing out candies to others and smiling at them. At first it came across to me as a rather odd thing to do. Why in the world would you have a demonstration over something as inconsequential as smiling when there are so many other issues that plague the world!
But when I took out sometime from my stressful schedule to see the pictures she uploaded, it struck me then. That no matter how rotten your day has been or how many deadlines you've got coming up, you just need that one smile telling you that's its all going to be alright, even if its just to calm you down. Its not an awfully exacting gesture to make, but it sure does wonders to how your perception changes. Its just as simple as a smile. When you show your pearly whites to someone, even a stranger on a road, its that one amazingly contagious thing they will reciprocate. It confuses an approaching frown, settles a feud and works wonders in beauty pageants!!
So there you go!
Smile, so that they smile back.
Smile, so that they smile at others.
Smile, so that everyone's smiling!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)