I'm the air that blows on your back on a sticky summer night,
I'm the skip of a heartbeat on your first frightened flight,
That comforting warmth of a sip of whisky in the winter cold,
When you thought life was but hopelessness, I'm that flicker of hope,
I'm the tease of a smile in your child that is 3 days old,
I'm the wind that's blowing you towards unfound gold,
I'm the last strand of strength when you thought you can no longer hold,
I'm the best kept whispered secret that no one has ever told,
In the corner of a heart dying in disbelief and hate,
I'm the birth and survival of that hint of faith,
When the roof is caving in and the walls are closing,
I'm the earthquake that swallows you and saves you from within,
I'm the hand on your back when you need to go on with your fight,
The firefly next to you till you reach the end of a tunnel without light,
I'm the vision of your mother who no longer tucks you in to sleep tight,
And the twinkle in the angel's eyes that take away your bad dreams at night,
I'm the very last sip of water after your spiciest bite,
That voice in your head that's screaming not to lose sight,
I'm the miracle cure of your every lil' unwell cell,
And the magic in the first love that you couldn't tell,
I'm the sound of the first thunder when you are caught in a forest fire,
I'm the tune of the rushing river when you're weak with thirst and hunger,
I am not unseen yet not visible, though I do not hide or die,
You don't see me, you did not look, no... you didn't even try,
Recognise me for who I am... for I am greater than all that you can imagine,
I am that last force that has been with you from your very beginning......
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Monday, October 18, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
It's you that I fall for....
-there's a gleam in your eyes when you are cooking. you seem to be equally comfortable with a ladle in your hand in front of the stove... as you are with a mouse in your hand in front of a computer. Computer whizz or Indian chef....? I cannot decide.
-your eyes keep darting to my plate as soon as you finish your food. your fingers are waiting for my "want some..?". are you a food stealer or my personal weight watcher? I cannot decide.
-a smile breaks across your face at the mention of cricket. you sometimes bowl an invisible ball in our living room. I can imagine you as a red-mud covered 10 year old boy, fielding like a pro. A child that never grew out of the game or a religious cricket fanatic? I cannot decide.
-with a worried look after finding a single strand of white hair, you stand and stare at the mirror, troubled. Should I tell you to laugh it off or tell you about the other 10 white strands at the back that you can't see? I cannot decide.
-the destitute look on your face when you have to iron a shirt. you can wash the car, do the dishes and clean our house, all in a blink of an eye, yet cry to iron a shirt?? is it a new undocumented phobia or some kind of selective laziness? I cannot decide.
-an amaaaaa.....zing voice. And amazing speed at which you create your own lyrics (as you sing along) when you forget the words of a song. An undiscovered lyricist or an amnesic singer? I cannot decide.
-the loud laughter I hear when you are watching a silly comedy. Yet you did not see the "funny" in our accident, when our newly serviced Civic was "accidentally" parked upside down on the hill. That was a funny "crash"! Narrow sense of humour or natural defence mechanism? I cannot decide.... lol
-stubborn, splenetic, stoic silence when in hunger.... loud, cuckoo, maniacal when with cousins... comical, philosophical and multilingual when sloshed. Multiple personality or manipulative? I cannot decide.
so many things yet to discover.
tiny details of another september that I'd remember forever.
a man of principles, complex contradictions, a shy smile and great hair. :-)
you made it so easy for me to fall in love with you....
my floor has been slippery from the day I met you....
..... you make me fall... again... and again.... and again.....
happy anniversary, D.
-your eyes keep darting to my plate as soon as you finish your food. your fingers are waiting for my "want some..?". are you a food stealer or my personal weight watcher? I cannot decide.
-a smile breaks across your face at the mention of cricket. you sometimes bowl an invisible ball in our living room. I can imagine you as a red-mud covered 10 year old boy, fielding like a pro. A child that never grew out of the game or a religious cricket fanatic? I cannot decide.
-with a worried look after finding a single strand of white hair, you stand and stare at the mirror, troubled. Should I tell you to laugh it off or tell you about the other 10 white strands at the back that you can't see? I cannot decide.
-the destitute look on your face when you have to iron a shirt. you can wash the car, do the dishes and clean our house, all in a blink of an eye, yet cry to iron a shirt?? is it a new undocumented phobia or some kind of selective laziness? I cannot decide.
-an amaaaaa.....zing voice. And amazing speed at which you create your own lyrics (as you sing along) when you forget the words of a song. An undiscovered lyricist or an amnesic singer? I cannot decide.
-the loud laughter I hear when you are watching a silly comedy. Yet you did not see the "funny" in our accident, when our newly serviced Civic was "accidentally" parked upside down on the hill. That was a funny "crash"! Narrow sense of humour or natural defence mechanism? I cannot decide.... lol
-stubborn, splenetic, stoic silence when in hunger.... loud, cuckoo, maniacal when with cousins... comical, philosophical and multilingual when sloshed. Multiple personality or manipulative? I cannot decide.
so many things yet to discover.
tiny details of another september that I'd remember forever.
a man of principles, complex contradictions, a shy smile and great hair. :-)
you made it so easy for me to fall in love with you....
my floor has been slippery from the day I met you....
..... you make me fall... again... and again.... and again.....
happy anniversary, D.
Friday, April 9, 2010
7 floors down.....
Sitting on the floor in front of the closet,
Looking at your shirts, many shades of russet,
Never did notice that your were so partial to brown,
Next to you I must have looked like a colourful clown,
I can almost feel you here as I hold ur soft cotton pants,
Remembering you wearing them during our last dance,
I'm folding your socks, the blacks with the blue,
Knowing if they're mismatched, it irritates you,
An intoxicating scent was brought in by this wind,
Your cologne was made to make women sin,
I see our bed at the corner of my eye,
A towel lies there, by now it must be dry,
Your Robert Ludlum's "The matarese countdown",
Is left at our nightstand, folded at page 121,
I'm still living with you in this room for two,
How I miss your constant instructions on what to do,
People think I'm crazy, sinking in suppressed sorrow,
I really am not that upset we didn't have our tomorrow,
You left me here with a roomful of memories,
I thought I could go on living like this for centuries,
Sometimes I can still feel you hugging me tight,
And those careless and clumsy, sleepy kisses at night,
Just coz I love you, it doesn't mean you're off the hook,
I'm still angry that you didn't teach me how to fish and to cook,
What am I doing alone, answer me if you can,
What now mr perfectionist, what happen to your fool-proof plan,
Our account book is not done, but the bills are paid,
You know I hate numbers, oh! and I've sacked the maid,
Living like this, surrounded by everything that's you,
The temptation to come to you is killing me too,
One day in this room when your scent is not found,
I'll put my feet at the balcony railing to make my final jump.
Looking at your shirts, many shades of russet,
Never did notice that your were so partial to brown,
Next to you I must have looked like a colourful clown,
I can almost feel you here as I hold ur soft cotton pants,
Remembering you wearing them during our last dance,
I'm folding your socks, the blacks with the blue,
Knowing if they're mismatched, it irritates you,
An intoxicating scent was brought in by this wind,
Your cologne was made to make women sin,
I see our bed at the corner of my eye,
A towel lies there, by now it must be dry,
Your Robert Ludlum's "The matarese countdown",
Is left at our nightstand, folded at page 121,
I'm still living with you in this room for two,
How I miss your constant instructions on what to do,
People think I'm crazy, sinking in suppressed sorrow,
I really am not that upset we didn't have our tomorrow,
You left me here with a roomful of memories,
I thought I could go on living like this for centuries,
Sometimes I can still feel you hugging me tight,
And those careless and clumsy, sleepy kisses at night,
Just coz I love you, it doesn't mean you're off the hook,
I'm still angry that you didn't teach me how to fish and to cook,
What am I doing alone, answer me if you can,
What now mr perfectionist, what happen to your fool-proof plan,
Our account book is not done, but the bills are paid,
You know I hate numbers, oh! and I've sacked the maid,
Living like this, surrounded by everything that's you,
The temptation to come to you is killing me too,
One day in this room when your scent is not found,
I'll put my feet at the balcony railing to make my final jump.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
There's a stranger behind my reflection in the mirror.....
Suddenly you realize, a stranger is your everything, and with him with you, your can conquer anything. There is a storm of sms's. Your heart does a tango everytime his names flashes on your screen. You move away from your group of friends to answer his call b'coz you don't want the mushiness to embarrass you and you certainly want to flirt in private. There are flowers on every occasion, chocolates at appropriate times, "I love you'" and "I miss you" are the most used phrases of the day. You are allowed to be fashionably late, and his "you're late!!!" is said with tongue in cheek and a smile on his handsome face. All your thoughts revolve around him and you try to make time for other things, which includes your weighty 20 kg books.
The late night bike rides (slow rides, lest the wind will carry your words away) are filled with jests and jokes. There is too much to say, too much of thoughts to transfer and never enough time. You share all, important and miniscule matters. Your success and failures, how you scraped your knee in 10th grade, your first crush, why you worry abour your brother, why you fought with your mum, how you miss your dog. All the tiny details, he has to know. Because you want him to know you. What made and makes you ".you". And when he talks, you not only hear but listen to him. Because "he", you want to "know". The papercut on your index finger is his biggest concern and he remembers it the day after even if you have forgotten. Cooking together is a fun event, shopping was a chance to hold hands. You bake a cake with icing that is so ugly, yet he says, "But it taste so good. Seriously!". When he whips up something in your kitchen and waits like a pup for approval, you state the obvious, "Excellant. Unbelievable!".
Days turn into nights, hot summer nights give way to winter & rain, you live through your exams and mood swings, you slowly move away from your girlish dreams. And the pink screen that you see the world through fades away. The flowers don't come so frequently, the number of fights increases in frequency, some dates are forgotten, cooking becomes a burden. You eat in front of the tv, the conversations are short otherwise barely, drives to work is accompanied by absolute silence from both, with the morning Dj cracking silly jokes. The only friends you have are the ones whom you occasionally chat with on the net. You are on your feet at work the entire day, so many things require your attention there, there are bills to pay and you forget the bread and milk on your way. Falling into a crazy routine, you attempt to make room for him. To your "splitting headache", he says have an aspirin, when you delay he says, "you're late...", he bacomes grim. Your jokes revolve around work, and somewhere between the lines of the scanty conversations, you hope there is still love.
When he starts about his promiscuous friend, you know how is "You won't believe what Rahul......" is going to end. He finishes most of your sentences or else he responds with a "hhmmmm...". When you hit the bed in exhaustion, all you look forward to is some comforting hugging and none of the passionate kissing. The butterflies have flown away to someone else's stomach, maybe a girl's who sees the world through a screen that's pink and her heart flip flops with ectopic beats.
Then, you realize a truth that has been staring at you all along. What you thought love was, wasn't it. What you have now is complex, yet it's simple... it's nothing but a crochet of responsibilities, care, honesty and loyalty made out of a single thread of love. You don't mind the infrequent flowers because this is a matured silent love that he showers. The "silence" is a verb, an understanding deed, when he knows a wordless comforting time is in need. You wake up everyday, and you make a choice to stay. You make a choice to be with each other, to commit to one another, to commit to this new life you've bulit together. This is where you find your unconditional security. You face your problems and you face your fears, because there is that pair of hands on your back, should you fall. Suddenly you realize that he who was a stranger is now your everything and with him with you, you can conquer anything.
The late night bike rides (slow rides, lest the wind will carry your words away) are filled with jests and jokes. There is too much to say, too much of thoughts to transfer and never enough time. You share all, important and miniscule matters. Your success and failures, how you scraped your knee in 10th grade, your first crush, why you worry abour your brother, why you fought with your mum, how you miss your dog. All the tiny details, he has to know. Because you want him to know you. What made and makes you ".you". And when he talks, you not only hear but listen to him. Because "he", you want to "know". The papercut on your index finger is his biggest concern and he remembers it the day after even if you have forgotten. Cooking together is a fun event, shopping was a chance to hold hands. You bake a cake with icing that is so ugly, yet he says, "But it taste so good. Seriously!". When he whips up something in your kitchen and waits like a pup for approval, you state the obvious, "Excellant. Unbelievable!".
Days turn into nights, hot summer nights give way to winter & rain, you live through your exams and mood swings, you slowly move away from your girlish dreams. And the pink screen that you see the world through fades away. The flowers don't come so frequently, the number of fights increases in frequency, some dates are forgotten, cooking becomes a burden. You eat in front of the tv, the conversations are short otherwise barely, drives to work is accompanied by absolute silence from both, with the morning Dj cracking silly jokes. The only friends you have are the ones whom you occasionally chat with on the net. You are on your feet at work the entire day, so many things require your attention there, there are bills to pay and you forget the bread and milk on your way. Falling into a crazy routine, you attempt to make room for him. To your "splitting headache", he says have an aspirin, when you delay he says, "you're late...", he bacomes grim. Your jokes revolve around work, and somewhere between the lines of the scanty conversations, you hope there is still love.
When he starts about his promiscuous friend, you know how is "You won't believe what Rahul......" is going to end. He finishes most of your sentences or else he responds with a "hhmmmm...". When you hit the bed in exhaustion, all you look forward to is some comforting hugging and none of the passionate kissing. The butterflies have flown away to someone else's stomach, maybe a girl's who sees the world through a screen that's pink and her heart flip flops with ectopic beats.
Then, you realize a truth that has been staring at you all along. What you thought love was, wasn't it. What you have now is complex, yet it's simple... it's nothing but a crochet of responsibilities, care, honesty and loyalty made out of a single thread of love. You don't mind the infrequent flowers because this is a matured silent love that he showers. The "silence" is a verb, an understanding deed, when he knows a wordless comforting time is in need. You wake up everyday, and you make a choice to stay. You make a choice to be with each other, to commit to one another, to commit to this new life you've bulit together. This is where you find your unconditional security. You face your problems and you face your fears, because there is that pair of hands on your back, should you fall. Suddenly you realize that he who was a stranger is now your everything and with him with you, you can conquer anything.
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