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.

I Am Her Cushion

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 miss her arms, her smell, her breath.

But I am not supposed to feel all these things.

I can't be vulnerable and lonely.

For I am her cushion.

Invisible

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 around.

But it broke me.

Something inside me died.

And I can never go back to who I was.

  Is that why adults are so damaged?
Because they hurt and they are hurt

On their way to the unknown

they kill a part of each other.

Living with a broken soul.

Is that what growing up means?