Monday, July 15, 2013

The Love that was left of you

The following words were a reply to a beautiful quote shared by my sweet friend and blogger Saumya on FB. The quote is :

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.” ― Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli's Mandoli

Remember that day when I yearned for you,
Yearned, any clue what it means?
I cried for the distance,
Wept for the confusion,
Screamed noiselessly for the dilemma,
Tore invisible sheets in anguish,
Slept with tears as my companion,
Felt the spring turn winter,
The snow didn’t melt,
The colors burnt into ashes,
Anguish, Anger,
The emptiness of air……..
May be you do,
May be not,
That aching yearning
That missed completeness
That dead air
Is all that I recall………..

pic taken from here 


Sunday, July 14, 2013


Yeh joh shabd yahan hum bunte hain
Wahan door kahin kisi kone mein
Inhe lapet kar koi hasta toh koi rota hai
Gustakhi nai kijiyega huzoor, yeh shabd nahi jaan hain
Ink ek ek daane mein hai base kain lamhe
Kuch sehme, kuch darre
Kuch ankahe, kuch kareeb aur kuch gambhir

Yeh joh andikhe dhage hain
Woh dhage nahi kisse hain
Apke, mere, unke,
Zahir hue, chupe kisi kone mein
Zahir hue, tode kaeen rishte

Aj jab beete dinon ki yaad mein
Hum sang baithe hain, inke, apke aur apne sath
Kaeen kisse yaad karte hain
Jab shabdon ki pehchaan na thi
Kuch tohfe samay ke sath diye jate hain
Umar ka kya kahein
Apne mein hi ek paheli hai……


Sunday, July 7, 2013

A million travels in a single day

pic taken from here
If books were to be written on life, there would be never ending volumes and many a revised editions. You know why, so don’t ask. I remember this quote ‘Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer’. Indeed. You remember she had a piggy bank she would add money to every time? That piggy bank got transformed all of a sudden. It morphed its boundaries, contours, shape, form and most importantly the content. There are value- able assets and lessons added to it every single moment of her life. Seconds at times seem like eternity, like getting dissociated from your body in that split second which gives you a high. And as you come back in your body with the same soul that always belonged to you, you still stay in that dis- associated moment of thrill, awe and magnanimity.

‘ I’m magnanimous, I’m Agni, I’m Hermes’ said a voice to him. That ball of fire resides in all of us. Many a voices try to extinguish it. If you have never felt that extinguisher blast out on you ever before then the voices can really bog you down. Imagine splitting yourself in to two pieces, where one hears voices he believes in and the other part just smirks and feels pity, for he knows that all you hear is medically termed as ‘auditory hallucinations’.

Split Personality Disorder it was once called. Is it a disorder really? Don’t we all experience splits of different kinds? ‘Reality’, now that is one fantastic word, I say. Who decides what reality is? Is it static or dynamic? Your reality, your world is any way in all the possible ways different from mine, so who gives the authority to Clinicians to decide what is real and unreal. Philosophical, isn’t it? Are ‘unrealistic’ or so called ‘ab- normal’ minds always crippled? Are geniuses always the ones who are fantastically brilliant? NO! The phenomena of splitting oneself from the reality narrate many a stories. The family, the people, the environment, in short the psycho- social dynamics speak through it. The unspoken pain, tears, the harassment, subjugation, whipping, throwing. It’s like a dream within a dream. You peel one layer; other emerges, until you reach deep down only to find there is nothing, yet every thing!  

The tryst with that journey has begun. A million travels beckon every single moment of the day……

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Yearn that Hug

For a person who loves hug
If hugs have been distant
Something remains amiss
That something which is
Love, Care,Warmth, Security
That cocoon where words become silence
Arms, heart, beatitude….yearn your hug.

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