Away from me (For Mon)

When your train trailed off a long way from me,
I stood still, watching it disappear into the distances,
I watched it until it was a speck of black on my now empty mind
I gazed at the last of it disappearing into the lushes and the bustling urban spaces
That I perceive you are too little for
Like a lost child in the illimitable woods

You are a long way away from me but the skies in my world are a pink and violet-
They make me hope and count the days on my finger
They rain on me large drops of pain and agony,
Wrapping me up in a milieu of glum and morose
Speaking to me in sepulchral whispers the truth I dread
I weep at the spaces I have to return to but void of you
A deathly silence rules my mind and the dungeons echo of a havoc

I push the time on the old clock by my bed but time seems to have frozen itself
The darkness seems to engulf me, the nights are empty and the mornings arid
I search for you every morning in our empty nest and on the branches if you have perched there a little early,
I seem to forget that you have flown away to distances far
To find your voice, climb your ladder and kiss the world
While I sit here watching the skies for you in forlorn hope…

Time seems to have gobbled up our childhood, leaving bits and pieces of memories under the table
It seemed to have grabbed at all the pastries on the table and the chocolates on the highest shelf
That we are empty of any of it now
As my tears trickle down, to a secluded heart and a crowded mind
Your voice cackles in my ears and your face flashes before my eyes
As I try to pick myself up and catch up with the train that lead you away from me

When I close my eyes I see you in the vastness of that place, lost and lone
It makes me want to run for you and hold you up
I see you climbing up a shaky ladder trying hard to get to the top to peek at the chrysanthemums there
So I run there to press the ladder to the ground, hold it firm as you climb higher to peek
And maybe throw down some flowers for me- I like the pinks.

I still watch the skies for you but as I soar higher                                                                                                                
I am afraid I will have to fly far, to distances away from you
But your memory is etched in my mind like a precious photograph on the pages of my life
They flew high above the skies like the kites we craved for in the beaches,
And yet it lives in my heart like the strings of those kites tangled on the trees
Well, I will let it stay tangled there, forever

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A memory on the back of my shelf.

In the solitude that you were lost in, trust me I found an attraction that was powerful.

In the mornings when I saw you, you hardly knew I existed, that someone observed and gaped at the little world you were lost in. I saw it all- the birds flying around in your world in little circles, the music sounding out a little bit sweeter and louder by the day, the blue skies that reflected your solitude and lameness, the warmth of the morning sun shining out your solitude to the world in dim, placid shadows- I observed it all. I saw it all from distances I considered, safe, perfect and fine yet in my space I wanted to plunge into your endless verdure and see through the blinding morning light that you were lost in and somehow be a part of the silence that you gave your mind into, so much so that uttering words out aloud and being part of crowds was hard enough. Those mornings were blur; I can hardly explain. Caught between the urge to jump right into your world and compare to the world I lost myself into and the mere timidness of my personality, I lost my way to find the deep silence and peacefulness that you caught yourself into.

Ten years is a long time. When I close my eyes, I know I have walked farther than expected. The memories of your somehow fascinating and magical world I left behind in the woods and now stays somewhere at the corner on the back of my shelves like an old fairy-tale I loved to read over and over again and listen from time to time. Yet I left this memory to rust in that shelf all by itself but trust me I have thought of it over and over again but how could I possibly come back to rummage through this rather packed shelf of mine to get to the back of it, to relish this particular memory again and again and over again. I haven’t cared to line my shelf in neat, orderly ways, beautifully or fashionably. In the past, I have come to care not for this particular dusty, rusty shelf that I so highly loved to organize, set up and order. I was thrown out from the highways of life, found myself stuck in the by-lanes and could not find my way back. So, I lead a tangled life that I packed with noise, chaos and blinding, garish lights- I knew I didn’t belong to. I lost track of that person lost in solitude, that person/world/silence that I so madly fell in love with but instead I stand in a by-lane crowded with voices that break my ears, melt my eyes and shatter my heart.

Some days I try hard to get to the back of that little shelf to search out that particular blurred-out memory. I close my eyes and try hard to swim and grab it and never let it go but I can hardly see through the mighty, blur waters. I do not give up but I swaddle through the waters to hold it in my hands and plunge right into it and never come out. To simply sink myself into those endless waters of memories filled with stones, fishes, pearls and weeds full of you and live in the silence that you lost yourself into and relish and live in the memories I have of you and never again feel nostalgias of gaping into your world but living right in it.

Worth it.

On some days when you want to simply peek at the far corner of the road, you should simply do it even when you know that it is a dead end and that it has nothing but thorns, thistles and bulrushes and nothing of high towering trees and low-lying flowers that can mellow your heart. I say, you should walk down there and do justice to your heart’s desire to peek. Just go, stand there and return if you want. If not, you can just stand there and decide whenever you want to walk back.

On some days it is simply okay to travel down far, not knowing the destination, not knowing your way back and the darkness that will hover in very soon. It is okay to keep hoping, laugh a little louder, bask in the sun a while longer and yet know in your heart that a mighty lash of rain awaits you that would leave you rolling into the oceans afar off and drowning in a very short while. It is okay to pick flowers as you go, kick at the stones, look at the skies sloshed with colour and sprout hopes in your heart that the far end is not a dead end after all. You can believe that the distance holds astounding things for you that will make your smile last a lifetime and that the far end is full of alyssum ground covers that blankets the dreams of your life. You can go on to believe that the person by your side is a mist that will drift above your life forever, for a lifetime maybe. You can believe all that you want and you can walk on and on. Because I believe that some places/some seasons/some people are worth breaking your heart for despite the reality that drapes it in vivid, bright colours.

Wild flowers and vine

To me it sounds crazy.

First for the fact that I even thought of writing this down and second for the mere thought of you lying down far, far away not having the slightest, faintest clue that somebody somewhere is putting down her wild and mismatched feelings for him.

Hallo, this is craziness in its purest form ever.

Ten years ago on a strange Sunday morning there grew wild flowers and vines on the walls of my mind for someone I barely knew and yet ten years thence the flowers and vines continue to grow as though watered by a supernatural force on every other day I noticed they were being taken care of. Why, when I see you I still feel the butterflies in the depths of my stomach and the flowers yield fruits and the vines grow thicker by the day. When exactly did I water, nurture or care to even look at this wild garden that grew within me, that which I named after you and for you. I am trying hard to figure out when exactly. The date, the time, the extend, the reasons and why again?

This grows wilder now.

Ten years is a long time and considering the number of times I have seen you, these flowers and vines aren’t supposed to grow any wilder instead die away a long time ago. Well, I did grow other gardens that I genuinely took care of and watered all day and night with a rigour that was so true and pure. Yet they dried away and gave way to parched, dry grounds but this one stayed on and wild and fresh when I cared not to care for. The last time I saw you in the distance from a space that was close enough to me, the butterflies did flutter and the flowers did bloom a little more. I thought that garden died but it lived and waxed a little bit more strength and energy.

Do you have flowers and vines grow for me?

I bet not, I somehow am sure about that. Why would you care to think of me? You probably had better flowers and vines grow on the walls of your mind that you have taken care of and loved. When you see me, you probably want to rip and dig me out from the grounds of your mind and never think of me again. You probably look at me because I look, because you know I have wild flowers and vines that pop out of my head and that go crazy when I see you. Or do you care when I viciously observe you from safe distances and subtly look for you amidst the many people that crowd and gather? Do you or is it just my mind playing tricks on me again, giving me away to think that you care too?

Again- this is craziness in its purest form.

You are probably pursuing madly after someone right now. You are probably depressed, sad or alone. And yet far in the distance here I am penning down my thoughts for someone I think I love, for someone I would consider worthy for the time I spend over thinking thoughts like this.

With love,

The girl you barely know

A little honey on my chilli flakes.

(For Marcia, Mark and Melvin)

Perhaps I would like to have a teeny bit of honey on my chilli flakes simply just to mellow down the rush and roar of the heavy spiciness that would linger on my tongue for God knows how long. I love the spice that excites my slithering tongue but it is long and I am weary of this monotonous spice and hotness. How long and how much more of this spice? Can I have a little change in the normal way of my things? Perhaps, honey on my chilli flakes? They say your flakes you have earned and all that spice and fire in your tongue you deserve for the works of your life. But can I please have a change of my menu here? A little honey maybe on my chilli flakes? I have had this spice for years now- on chicken, sandwiches, burgers, curries and fries. I am forgetting to mention but I have had flakes on sweets as well. Inevitably they land everywhere and whatever I eat as if flakes were salt on a normal basis of my life. While they have made my life a big era of boredom they have tired me, frightened me to the depths of the oceans and made my senses go haywire. I am done with these chilli flakes dawdling my life with no ultimate cause or reason yet messing my life in all the ways possible. Trust me, I try hard to sweep my life clean from all these chilli flakes that lie scattered all around and in every nook and cranny after a horrendous argument, unpleasant disagreements and harsh walkaways of people-spicy, spicier, spiciest and sweet, sweeter, sweetest. I try hard to keep me clean of these flakes that add an extra amount of madness in my attitude but they stick close, closer than ever.
Well, now I yearn for a little honey on my chilli flakes for the flakes refuse to leave so a little honey might calm down the rush and roar of flakes on my life and my poor tongue. I poured out a little honey on these flakes that stayed intact and they seemed to have silenced themselves now. I see the thick honey roll down the chilli flakes, embracing them together, passionately falling over and under each of them they hardly could flaunt their spiciness anymore. The honey trickling down and all over, smoothing out the rather ferocious attitudes of the flakes that for so long messed with me and bored and roared on my taste buds, I now wonder- “Why in the whole wide world didn’t I possibly not think of honey on my chilli flakes? ” I like it this way, the honey and flakes have embraced themselves and made love they can’t separate themselves from the beds of my tongue. As for my mouth, it gives them all the privacy in the world to love, look into each other’s souls and lose themselves in the intimacy that never happened in their lives. Why didn’t I think of honey on my flakes? The boredom I talked of earlier is far gone and the weariness and tiredness have walked a long way away from me now. It was honey that came to my rescue and that mellowed down the spiciness of the chilli flakes that specked on the pastures of my life. The redness of the chillies seem to be humble and quite when I pour out a little honey on them every time they mess up and roar on the grounds of my life and bang hard on the walls of my mind. The honey does the magic now, it soothes, spreads out its sweetness all around the madness and somehow melts away the havoc rising in me. So now when the chilli flakes roar at me, I simply order a teeny bit of honey to be poured all over. For when they meet, they seem to have a special way of calming down each other. It’s good you know- A little honey on the chilli flakes.