Tuesday, November 18, 2014

The End

And so it fell.
The last scab.
Scraped off by that impersonal message on Whatsapp. An app you claim to barely use. Because you don’t like to type.

And so I called a couple of times and they went unanswered.
I texted a few times… ranted even. Hoping you would see my message and respond, with an emoticon at least.

I started to feel really bad. Especially about how fucked up it was when I found out more than a month later that your grandmotherhad passed away. I had spoken with a common friend for a while and even he didn’t mention it. I fought back tears through meetings that day. I cried for you. And for her. And for what we had so obviously lost.  I trembled as I dialed your number. Hoping that yet again you would not answer.

Except for this flash… I know nothing about you. Nothing about your life for the past year. Nothing about any change in your eyes, your smile, your face.
I texted again. The last time, I promised myself. I wasn’t surprised to see banter in the comments section on posts on Facebook. I wasn’t surprised that you did not reply.

I was however caught absolutely unawares when I did get a message. A broadcast, probably. Impersonal. From you, about you, asking for inputs on a newly launched website. I feel happy for you that you finally did it. I know you will be successful. I feel that in the time that has passed you have made close friends that will help and support you with your quest. Much like I did the first few times. I know that you have enough people that you are close to to help you.

I realize now that that last statement is not about me being selfish or trying to make this about me. It is about the acceptance that I am no longer an important person in your life. There are others. There will be more. This is about moving on. Finally.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Twinge (n):

You remember that moment, that time when you thought you couldn't be happier...
You'll have that again.
With another person, in a different place. And no, you won't think of them while its happening.
But it will be OK.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Of letting go..

Our life is an amalgamation of experiences – a beautifully intricate collage where routines serve as fillers while important events provide character and colour and soul.

These experiences -  each moment, every smell, the little things you obsessed about, pure childlike excitement, the anger, the relief, the sleepless nights…  scarlet, magenta, orange, indigo,…  all come together in form of a complex design that you create. You know the glossed over bits, the imperfections, the exaggerations, the corners you cheated, the sections that mirror you… mirror you so that only you could spot the similarities. You produce your piece of art; one event at a time, unique to your interaction with the universe.

 And you've taken time out of your life to validate these seemingly insignificant bits and pieces, with the hope of providing a soul to something larger than yourself. Time, that you could have spent doing less engaging activities, those that would be assigned the browns, the neutrals and the static.  

Now Stop.


And start over.

Does it feel like you dis-own a part of you… trivialize an important part of your life? Disregarding what it feels like to be human and letting your head bully your heart, once again, into believing that it’s the grown up thing to do. You wonder if you’re trying to cheat fate… but there’s so much more you wanted to do with that design.

Because letting go is like giving in.  Like resigning to a stereotype that’s been conferred upon you; because according to the social order it’s the right thing to do. So you do. You stop. The paint is left to dry, the colours soak in. And as the colours soak in you realize that those shades and mixes can hardly be recreated, not with the same innocence and excitement from the first time. Not with the same exhilaration you felt when you first saw it, when it was most perfect. You can only imagine it. But you can never, really, start over. 

Sunday, November 25, 2012


That Person
To not obsess
To not give up
Satisfying Sunday evenings
Exciting Monday mornings
That half written piece to be completed
To be sorted
To just make that fucking phone call
To never think "What if"
To give it everything I can
To not be so strong,
Happy tears
Peace of mind.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

A Lover's Prayer

Close your eyes
And think of me,
Just a flake, a memory.
Our fleeting moments, our evanescence,
All neatly tucked, away from see.

Stay a while and oblige me
Stare me down, arrest my gaze.
Let your fingers lead me on
Stop my heart,
And then make it race.

Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow
Push those juvenile curls away.
Make the world melt
Beneath my toes
While you kiss me like it’s our last day.

And when the sun shines
Up on your face,
Your eyes adjust, you awake,
I pray you take this memory
And I wish you keep it safe.

Coz we’re the other people,
Those you won’t afford the attention.
Secret, unconditional
And constituted of recollections;
We’re the lovers you cannot mention.