The world is going to end?

Like people talk to themselves

in the mirror

I found myself talking aloud today

saying that it's fine

That this has happened to you before

Even then there was nothing to look forward to

Even then you kept looking for a silver lining

but couldn't really find one

yes, it did happen to you before,

where you felt like

the world is going to end

But nothing actually ended

you kept walking

and it kept getting better

I kept telling myself that

the pain in your chest will subside

that there will come a day

when you will look back to this moment

and smile

Smile because before it ended

it happened, and you lived it

you lived every bit of it

Bombay

I woke up today and my house was a mess. Aunty needed to cook rajma and there were no onions. Shreya was getting late for work. She was waiting for the upma to get cooked. I was strolling here and there unmindful of the time. I was getting late too. And hence I literally had to run to the stop to catch my bus. Every day I stand at the bus stop staring at the road and wait for the bus, 521 or 121. You never know when exactly will the bus come and hence it's always relieving to see it coming. There are protocols here too. There are two gates on the bus, one in the front and one at the back. You always enter the bus from the back gate. I didn't know this on my first day and hence entered the bus from the front gate causing a hassle. I wonder if someone noticed and laughed at me.

It's going to be a month now, I still don't know if I am settled into this routine though. The faces have all become familiar. They all come, put their earphones on, tilt their heads towards a side and sleep. In my not so good days, it feels like all of them are dead. Those are the days of existential questions too when life seems so monotonous that I wonder if all of us have worked our asses off to achieve this monotony. Some people call it routine; they like it. I don't really know if I am one of them.

I entered the bus and ran towards the empty seat. I don't get a seat every day so this might be the biggest achievement of my day. Conductor uncle was happy today. We shared a laugh when I finally took the station name right. Everyone on the bus knows him. I hear him chatting with people. They talk in Marathi though, so I don't really understand. I don't remember directions easily but it has been long enough to know that every day this bus passes through Chembur, Sion, Dadar and then Worli. I get down at Worli. Somewhere in between Matunga also comes. I guess. Dadar has the prettiest homes. Many of them are now covered in yellow flowers celebrating the arrival of Spring. It took me very long to notice all of this for in the initial days my eyes used to be glued to the screen. I hope and wish that I did not miss out on a lot.

The guy in front of me was reading Orwell's 1984. I was so tempted to talk to him. What would I have talked about though? 1984 was scary but these times in real are scarier. We could have talked about that. Anyway, I didn't have the courage to initiate a conversation. He got down at NC Kelkar Road, Dadar. It's silly of me to note down the details, but I feel wiser when I remember the name of the places. On my way, every day, I see a church and the Siddhivinayak temple too.

This is the first time in my 24-years of life when I am travelling every day for work. I leave home at eight in the morning and then come back at eight in the evening. In the evening, the bus takes longer because of traffic. I have never had this much time to just be, to watch people, to imagine having conversations with them. A year ago, I used to complain about how I have never travelled on a bus. A year ago, I was dying to come to Bombay and experience the life that I have grown up watching in a million of Hindi films. I am not going to romanticise the struggle. It's hard and there are no two ways about it. But there are still ways to make it better. Watching the spring flowers bloom in Dadar is much better than scrolling through Netflix and getting anxious and restless about what to watch. There is no comparison actually.

Had it not been for this, I would have never known Bombay the way I do now. I would have never known that from Worli, I can take a direct bus to Sassanian and then go to Marine Drive. I would have never known that Haji Ali is also nearby from here. It all might be silly but it feels so good to know these places now. To know Dadar and Worli. It feels blissful to navigate through the city on my own. I feel wiser.

People say that Bombay grows on you. I think it does. Slowly and steadily, but it does.

The Morning Visitor

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 wrapped arms can make it break down

or fall apart even more.

But you know how important it is to fall apart,

And hence you don't mind the ugliness.

Even when I am the most unwelcoming host

You don't skip coming to my window.

You are my stubborn early morning visitor

And I like opening my eyes to you. 

ढोंग

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? 

Lost and Never Found

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.

But you didn't for you were too busy for "petty" things.

I kept watching you looking away from the kid.

Trying to know what made you this.

Are you damaged or is it just that

the brick inside you is different from mine?

Something that I can't quite understand. 

For a while, your existence gave me a home.

You know how it is when you meet somebody

who looks like you on another planet?

It was exactly like that.

But then something changed.

And I lost the lady,

I thought I fell in love with.

Void

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.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

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 life, has been that one friend. It stays on a happy day when there are butterflies in my stomach while I am holding someone's hand, it stays during those warm random hugs that I give to my friends, it stays to make all these moments even more special. It also stays on those lonely days when I am walking back home and crying. These rain droplets fall on my face and talk to the tears on my cheeks. They don't console or try to make it any better. They just stay and hide my loneliness and tears from the rest of the world. They stay there to remind me that this too shall pass.