A season like this

Dim lights of the study lamp dying in the morning
Heavy eyes and REM dreams
Old songs not remembered well
Broken drones of restless naps
Prayers tired prayers
Hands with nothing to clasp but brown lines
Pained smiles breaking with memories
Finished the quotas of teas together
No promises, no apologies
Nothing to fight on
Two acute angles equally opposite
Broken lines running parallel
The trigonometry theorems that you were never meant to master
Empty blue skies with dry winds
The distance between two stars with jaded lights
An autumn like spring never existed!

eyes of light

She twinkles in the moonlite like today's...
Sleeping in an alien city now..wonder if she has had dinner or has she dozed off on the bed alongside the books.She likes tea before sleeping( yellow label with very little sugar).Nights with her are like a balm...There is absolutely nothing that cant be paired down to perspective(except the temperature of the air conditioner..she likes to sleep freezing)

Everything has a proper place.You like me wouldnt know it until you know better from her!The big decisions and the small decisions are all in her EDL. Just press the button and you would know Just the right thing for you!You're a big fish or a small fish or a medium sized fish..she has a recipe for every disaster that you have tasted in life so far!(Really i am telling you!)

Lying beside her on nights like these,I have felt gawky and bumbling..like one feels while holding a little baby in one's big scratched hands. My smoothness has all gone where her shines bright! My courage is waning away while she still protects her dreams in a small wicked space...I bump into walls and reach her to ask why didnt I see them?

On dark nights when the greys of the world leaave me blind with their details, I miss those eyes of light!

Bare essentials at 26

a single friend with a 24hour hotline
a reader who follows one's writing through and through
a purple chunni to cover oneself when there is too much grey in the world
some sweets in the fridge
a familiar author who has written on ones present tragedy in life
a promising upcoming project at work
old cherished memories that can be brought up without embarassing anyone
the promise of seeing a loved smiling face sometime in the future.
a few good pictures of one's own face

Salt~

If it doesnt taste sweet
If it doesnt change color
If it hasnt burnt to become something else
If it doesnt loose taste after all the warm concoctions and freezing indiffrences breathed into it
If it doesnt harm the insides after swallowing
If it tastes bitter compared to other things at your table
If it still sticks to your 'full hands'
If you cant take it back once you've given it
If nobody can buy it nothing can undo it
Its salt!
The little salt that turned into an earring from your hand into mine...

Sand in my bra

Sipping chai at lonely stations
Sleeping with lights on in sickly cold railway compartments
Passing by the lights of the cities which have been home once
Wearing salt earrings to not forget what I have taken from the world
Fulfilling the promises made to random gods
Smiling at strangers kinder than you
Squinting and looking hard
Passing thunder and lightening on the way
Remembering the life I had prayed for
Living the life I have been given
The sand in my bra singing as I run...