P's Notes

The corner of my bed lits up. I try to close the curtains, I wish to sleep some more. But clearly you, the stubborn light  falling on my face with all your warmth do not wish so. I get irritated and go to another side. Tossing and turning on the bed didn't help last night. But how would a morning visitor know that? And hence I don't blame you. You don't know the nights. And you hardly know the darkness.  Your continuous knock on the door annoy me at first but after a while I get used to the knocks, to your warmth. You come to me every day and give me these early morning warm cuddles I don't tell this to you often  But I like your stubbornness I like how you do not give up on me. You don't see the teary-eyed nights  or the soaked pillows  But my morning face, puffy eyes And smudged kajal tells you the story. You believe it and choose to not run away It takes courage to hug or cuddle what is broken, your

खुद पे हस लेता हूँ,  थोड़ी मौज ले लेता हूँ, आज के दिन को अगर,  मैं थोड़ा सा जी लेता हूँ, तो वो मासूमियत से पूछती है, कल जो तुम थे,  क्या वो फिर ढोंग था क्या?  मुस्कुराकर उसको मै, जी भर के देख लेता हूँ, सवाल के बदले, एक सवाल पूछ लेता हूँ,   भोर के धूप की रंगत, संध्या की तपन से अलग थी, तो क्या वो फिर ढोंग था क्या? 

I found you beautiful when I first met you. But I don't remember what I saw that day. Please remind me? The fact that I can't remember it now, is making me anxious. I liked the beauty. It calmed me down. Fewer thoughts were going in and out. Less traffic, less crowd, Inside my head, for a while. I won't lie. I wanted to get used to it. I belonged to you for a while. In this space, where I am constantly surrounded by people who come and go unceremoniously in each other's life, I thought you are the one who likes to stay. I thought you liked slow walks and long pauses. But then slowly and eventually, the magic started fading away. There was a charm around you on the first day. That made me feel better about life. About people. But then it vanished. I kept looking for that person in you. And failed miserably. Repeatedly.  The kiddo who was smiling to you that day, wanted you to smile back at her. Bu

I bared my heart in front of someone today, But I don't know how I feel about it. I visited the long-forgotten lanes yet again today, But I don't know how I feel about it. I took her along with me, on the lane that was once my home.  But it was different today.  For there was no lump in my throat  while I showed her the dead trees. There was not a tear in my eyes when I took her over the crumpled leaf. I was walking with her and showing her things, as if I was never there before, as if that lane was never a part of my life. I wish I knew how did this happen. How I grew over something, that once killed a part of me. I don't remember when did it stop hurting. But it feels hollow for the pain is gone. There is a deep void and I don't know what to fill it with. I wonder if the pain was better than the void. I wonder what would I choose if I had a choice.

Rains can't be romantic for everyone. While I am sitting here on my window with a cup of tea writing how poetic this weather is, there are other people out there on the streets trying to navigate through the city amidst this heavy shower. Not just streets, even the roof on my head that I am taking for granted is a privilege for so many people.  I loved rains till the time raincoats did not become an inseparable part of it. Not that it's important but I have always hated raincoats and mosquito nets. They are confining and somehow always end up suffocating me. Umbrellas are lovely though, but they were never an option because I used to go to school on cycle. I remember how every day I used to come home drenched in rain (happily) and then make the same excuse that I forgot my raincoat at home. This went on until the day my mom started keeping it, in my bag, by herself each morning.  Everyone has that one friend who always stays without asking any question. Rain, in my li

Every night she comes to me, hugs me and sleeps. I am her cushion. It isn't monotonous though. For the way she holds me is different, Her arms feel different. On some days, she clinches them around me tightly. As if I am her solace, her only companion. It feels good to be hugged like that. But I can't look at her on these days, For she is too lonely, too vulnerable. I feel helpless when it becomes difficult to comfort her. For that's my only job. I don't like the nights when I have to absorb her tears. On such nights I wish, I could cry too. She won't understand, but it's difficult when all of it builds up inside you. Or maybe she will, for she often can't vent it out too. But she has me. I am her cushion. There are days when she doesn't need me. I am thrown on one corner of the bed. And she sleeps with her phone. I see her smiling. She doesn't need me to comfort her. On such days, I miss her. I

I thought you would check on me  if I am okay; if I slept alright. When I told you, I am in pain I thought you would care to ask, what happened.   But you didn't. Neither did you. Actually none of you.  I suddenly became invisible to everyone around. You stuck by me in the happier times Then what changed now? You said I was fun and quirky And that you gonna be around always. How did that "always" end so fast? How could you not see that I was dying inside And I needed you to  just pull me back once. Is this how it works? Was I also not around, when you needed me? Maybe. But then what is the point? Of having people.  What is the point if you can't  find solace in any of them. When no one can be there  to pull you back, to heal you. You made me feel miserable, needy and clingy. I hated myself.  I wonder if I also did that to you. After a while, I became numb. I got used to the pain and to you not being aro

Every morning papa makes tea for ma and amma. Ma loves it. Amma not so much. I think amma likes the tea but she doesn't like the fact that papa makes it. This time when I went home for vacation, papa used to wake me up too for morning tea. I wondered why because I don't like tea. We used to sit and chat about random stuff. On some good mornings, he would tease amma till she has a giggly fit. After this morning dose of tea and chit-chat, papa would rush to get ready for work. Ma would be off to the kitchen and amma would go out to get flowers for "pooja". And I would slowly tiptoe my way back to the room to get some more sleep. "Shaam ki chai" is the time when all three of them sit together and discuss chores and errands. On most evenings, the discussion is interrupted when amma starts rushing towards the gate hearing the call of the vegetable vendor. I follow her too for the conversations that happen among the vegetable vendor, amma and neighborhood

This is about the days when abruptly anytime the ceiling fan used to stop working. The days when there were no "backups," no inverters. I used to run to my mother's room in the middle of the night and she would use my favorite handheld fan to help me sleep. That fan was handmade. Dadi made several for us. They were of beautiful bright colors, some had embroidery over them. This is about the summers when everybody at home would eventually go upstairs and sleep on the cot, beneath the stars, except my father and me. My father used to complain about mosquitoes and I had weird complaints. It was difficult for me to sleep beneath the stars. Those millions of stars had the company of each other and they made me feel alone. Alone in a strange way. I remember how difficult it was for me to continuously look at them while trying to sleep. It felt as if there is a hollow tunnel and as much as I would look at it, I would keep going inside. I was intimidated by the vastness.

Something just broke inside me. But there was no sound. No shatter. I don't know if it hurts. I feel too numb. Too distant. Too lost.  This looks like a dark box, filled with sharp broken pieces. Pieces that pierce my feet. I am banging all the walls, to find a door.  A door that can lead me out of this. To a place that doesn't smell like a chemistry lab.  To a place where there is sunshine to keep me warm. I keep trying for some time. But it seems like there is no door. Tired, I fell on the rugged mat. And went to sleep. Hoping to wake up in another place. In a place where I can breathe.

कुछ महसूस हुआ, और उसके बारे में लिख़ने गयी तो उस जज़्बात के लिए शब्द ही नहीं मिले | जीवन में कितनी सारी ऐसी बातें, ऐसे इत्तेफ़ाक़ होते हैं जिन्हे हम अक्सर याद कर लिया करते हैं | उन यादों में हम एक बार फिर से वो बातें, वो इत्तेफ़ाक़ जीने की कोशिश करते हैं | पर अगर अचानक से कोई दृश्य आपको अपनी यादों के उस कोने में धकेल दे जहाँ आप पहले कभी नहीं गए तो कैसा महसूस होगा? मानो जैसे वो इत्तेफ़ाक़, वो याद आपसे रूठ के शिकायत कर रही हो | ऐसे ही एक छुट्टी की सुबह अपनी बालकनी में बैठे हुए मेरी नज़र जब इस बालकनी पर गयी तो मेरी आँखों के सामने दादी की झलक आ गयी | वो थी तो मेरे पापा की दादी पर मै भी उनको दादी ही कहती थी | उन्होंने मुझे स्कूल जाते हुए भी नहीं देखा | वो उससे पहले ही चली गयीं थी | उनके कमरे में एक ख़ास खुशबू हुआ करती थी | वो खुशबू याद है मुझे | दादी चुटकी बजा के मुझे कुछ सुनाया करती थी | उनकी चुटकी याद है मुझे | उस समय मै सोचती थी कि जादू है, कि दो उंगलियों से कैसे आ जाती है ये आवाज़ | जब मैंने उनसे पूछा तो उन्होंने मुझे भी चुटकी बजाना सिखा दिया | फिर हम दोनों बाहर धूप में बैठ के साथ मे

That fragrance reminds me of you. That melody reminds me of you. I zone out for my mind wanders, to far off places, to far off people. To everything that is miles away. Is it like an alternate universe, where memories reside? Yesterday it looked like a castle, that led me to a good night sleep. Today it looks like a cave, Where do you think it's gonna lead me?

Dear Hugsy, Did you ever feel at home in a strange place? Did you ever feel like this is where you have always belonged? A place that completes your incomplete jigsaw puzzle. A place that makes you cherish your existence. This feeling might be difficult for you to comprehend but I swear I am not exaggerating. I am home now but this doesn't feel like home anymore. I want to go back. I want to go back and keep looking at the sea. I like how it goes till infinity and you can not see it's end. I like how it makes you feel tiny and helpless. This helplessness, although, is liberating. It makes you realize that you do not have control over a lot of things in your life, and at times you just need to let go. Do you know, the sea was meeting me for the first time but it wasn't shy? It was spontaneous and crazy. Loud and clear. It never whispered. As I saw the waves coming towards me, I wondered how can people decide if they are a mountain person or a beach person. H

Do you remember the e-rickshaw ride that we had back to the campus? I was wearing my pink kurta and I guess you wore one of your breezy shirts. Do you remember how there was something wrong with the rickshaw and it was unimaginably slow and how weird it was to see everyone overtaking us, even the pedestrians? I am having all those flashbacks today when I am here after two years. Did I tell you that I didn't want that ride to end. I don't remember us speaking a lot that day. Silence did all the talks there. But I know you understood. Did you feel the electricity too? As I go on, I feel thoughts rushing through my mind as storms. Storms that carry people; people from the past. I found myself entangled amidst the storm. I feel so much, suddenly. As I enter through the gate, I see the older me. Me who was young and stupid and naive. I see myself rushing to the class every day. It felt surreal. Like I was back in those days when life was all about the struggle of attending t

I will never know what makes this video so special. Is it John & Jenny, the kids, the dog, or the snow? Or is it just the fact that everything in their life starts changing from this very day. I could so relate to "the list" that Jenny had in the beginning. All of us have a list. It's just that some of us are vocal about it while the others keep denying its existence. John and Jenny get married, move to a new city, get jobs but their life actually begins when they get Marley home. Marley, the dog or the devil who took the face of a dog? HAHA! It was hilarious to watch Marley getting expelled from "the obedient school." I laughed when Marley tried to crash through screen doors or run away with Jenny's undergarment or start eating everything he could from sofas to jewelry but my heart went out to him when I saw him getting restless and scared in the thunderstorm.  Marley was a mess, a beautiful mess, and I don't think he could have found better

Take a deep breath. This isn't the end of the world. It's okay to feel hollow It's okay to feel the void The pain might be gut-wrenching It's okay. Take a deep breath. Do not hold back. Cry. It's fine if you break down. Do not punish yourself. Your pain is yours as much as your happiness is. Embrace it. Let it be. Hug your pillow, curl up inside the sheets and go to sleep. It isn't your fault. The next morning will bring a better day. A day where the pain might still be there. But you shall be better prepared. Do not push yourself but keep at it.  The pain must not wash away, the memory of good times. Do not let it ruin your soul It shall not make you a bitter person. Take a deep breath. This isn't the end of the world.

He was bogged down with all the worldly responsibilities. Amidst daily chores, kids, and family Somewhere he got lost. I wonder if he ever found himself.  For his childhood was no different. Destiny made him an adult. So soon. The mind that was supposed to think about games, Was worried about earning a living. The thought that there was no one, to attend his parent-teacher meeting, to wish him luck before his exams Makes my heart ache. There was no hand on his shoulders, Nobody to back him up. No one to pick him, if he falls. He has learned to walk alone. For he has been doing the same for a while now. My heart aches when I think of the innocence that was killed. Does he think about how his life would have been different, Had there been an adult in his home.  Had there been someone by his side. I want to take him to woods and make him listen to the call of that bird he loves. I want to buy him his favorite jacket, he could

I dread the time I go home, and sit alone with my cup of tea. I wonder if the tea also thinks the same. We are left alone at each other's mercy for quite some time. I wonder if she likes my company. As tears roll down my cheek,  I see her questioning my eyes. My cup of tea wants me to talk As the steam touches my eyes, I can feel her wiping my tears. Her warmth trying to reach my soul. The soul that has been cold for a while. Her efforts do reach my soul, but I still don't feel warm; I try to fake it  for her disappointment worries me. She is the only one, I've got for a while. I fear losing her. I fear losing her efforts.