to you both.

there are two women in my life. two women i love very much. they are two people with whom i've shared drunken pleasures, the cold of shimla and the pinkness of jaipur, the feeling of being perpetually broke, heartbreakes, car rides that made us feel like 'bad-ass' boys (!), regrets about the lack of men in our lives, good food, bad food and a lot of food in general, good times, bad times, and the last 8 months of my life. they are not people whom i can relate to much. they are not people with whom i have a lot in common. they like noida and clubbing, i like north capmus and the sound of a classical guitar. i like frank o'hara, they don't like to have much to do with poetry. they will crack very, very silly jokes and roll over laughing while i would look at them incredously. point is, that i am very different from them, and they, from me. but they are my friends. friends without whom i could not have spent the last few months in this unknown city, friend i can always count on, to make me laugh. friends who would call me over their place so that i get good food. friends who probably wouldnt understand what i am talking about or how i feel, but would nevertheless listen. friends, whom i love. of course that sounds like a repition in itself because if they are my friends then it is because i love them.. but well. so when i see a list of 'dearest friends' on one of their 'profiles', i expect to see my name in the list. and it mildly surprises me when i find that i feature nowhere in the list.and i realise, that the three of us are not really a trio. it is more like this- the two of them, and me. and while i cannot lie and pretend not to feel hurt, i understand, nevertheless. i understand the two of them are a source of solace to each other and their friendship extends beyond just college, and car rides and cigarettes. perhaps it is because of the lack of display of affection on my part, or perhaps it is because i like being with myself than anyone else, but what remains is this- to them i am not what i used to be. and that saddens me. but this post is not about me, it is about them. 'them'. i say 'them' because i can no longer think of each one of them in isolation. when i think one, the other's presence is immediately felt. like two peas in a pod. like two leaves on a flower. like two friends. they are not like my other friends. most of whom, are either writers, musicians or some kind of 'intellectuals' in their own right. these two women, are different. they are fun. that is the only way to describe them. somehow, it is very difficult fot to imagine them sad or depressed, for i have never, ever, seen them without a smile on their faces. on the hottest day, on the most upsetting day, on the most stressful day, on the most horrible day, they would wear a smile on their faces like its a part of them. like their eyes, nose, lips, the smile is just there.

so while i may not post kisses and 'i love you's on facebook, and turn up for college just to meet you, i love you. for you are two people in my life that i would not give for anybody else, anything else. for you two, are my friends.

On a February Night.

If I think of you, should I

not have the liberty to hold

you close? And if I am far away

with distances and nonsensical

aspects of life, such as growing up

separating us, what more is

there to be done, than to pick up

that mundane telephone and

give you a call.

"Hello.." "I called you to tell you

how much I miss you." "Oh, sorry,

I am _____, she has fallen asleep.."

Words dont do justice to my err.. ,

jealousy. Of course, that is a very

poetic way of putting it. What I feel,

on the other hand is nothing poetic.

Should I wonder what you were doing,

before slumber took over you ? I

can imagine the two of you in that

blue-walled room, that smells of you,

and rains, and trains. Did you sit

on that window ledge and smoke

a cheap cigarette or two, while

her eyes ran all over you like

she was caressing you with

her fingers? Or were you talking

of things you love the most--

films, art, Cal, life and death ? Or

did you just sit in each others'

arms, quiet, letting your hands

do the talking?

I will never know. If I ask you,

then you would perhaps laugh

it off, or be offended. But then,

I will never know. If I think

of you, should I not have the

liberty to hold you close? If I

think of you, shouldnt the heavens

above send you to me? They

have been known to perform such

miracles (!) If I think of you,

should I not have the liberty

to love you?

An Ode to Writing

i

have

been

told

that

this

is

wrong

.

(to all those, who could not.)

"And in short.."

Should I stand in a corner

Fold my hands and wait

Or,

Should I plunge into this life

Whatever this life maybe

This life that made me walk
on maddened, nomadic roads

Roads that lead from one city,

a City of Joy to another, a city

That looks like a dark green bowl

where all, in sixes and sevens

just pour in, hoping

to embrace one another.

These nomadic roads

They lead somewhere - of course they do

but I do not want to know where they end.

Who is to say what

I am

I am not lost

I am not found.

I once saw a sunrise

and a sunset, standing

On the terrace of the

Nandan Cinema Hall.

The night came, and

with it brought something

else. Truth is, I never found out

What it was. I once saw

A sunrise and a sunset, only

This time it was from a

French window in a

posh restaurant in Connought Place.

Do sunrises and sunsets change ?

Do skies change ? Did the air

I breathe change ? Yes, they did.

They all changed.

The scenes, the sights,

The roads, the smiles,

The tears, the villages,

Their sounds, he dreams

The vows. They all, all

changed.

"Change is the only constant"

Some madman had once said

I dont think he knew

He was speaking the Eternal Truth.

If you are confused, then so am I

Come, let us hold hands and

Walk these nomadic roads

I do not want to know

Where they lead, or end-

I like their mystery.