The Poetess and the Madman Who Loved Her.

So is it important to judge ?

Is it important to bring down a conscience and destroy a being ?

Are second chances never meant to be given ?

Forsaking everything you had, is it fine to pine and perish in the eternal hells of love ?

Once you could drink the stars holding his hand and walk on the seas.

Once you wrote songs together, creating and destroying worlds with your words together.

Once you saw all your life in that moment when you looked into his eyes.

Once reasons ceased to matter and life felt endless in every second.

Once you held hands and walked by the Ghats of a city that you both loved and named your children.

Once you argued Dali, Wilde, Ray, Tagore and returned to one another's arm as the night slept.

Once you dreamed dreams of a life where just the two of you existed.

Once you fell in love.

But now all that has changed.

and now, "love is so short. Forgetting is so long."

You bear a grudge against him, and he

On his part, doesn't care.

You dare not probe beneath the surface

For you wouldn't want to rekindle a dying flame.

Love is a strange word now.

Perhaps you don't remember what it means. How it feels.

And so,

It is important to judge.

It is important to bring down a conscience and destroy a being.

Is it ?

Here and There.

So suddenly i wanted to wish people hippy nu ear ! but couldnt think of anyone who would like to be wished by me.

then got down to business and started thinking about people i would be sad to leave if i died. or came down with flu.

whichever.

so here's a list. of people. here and there. that i love, with all my heart. and think about at least once a week. or maybe twice. and would even give 10 bucks to if they didnt have money for a bus ride. and would lend my pulse concert dvds. and my kajal. willingly. and let them call me names. and make fun of me. call me when i am sleeping. or stand in front of me when i am crying.

ma: reality check-life saver-ass kicker

dad: oh well.

guddu: my better half. she thinks i am her daughter. she is also going to tutor my children in math and science til class X.

she is also one of the most beautiful people (and i dont only mean that in a soul-full way. i mean it superficialy too. like, when you look at her), i have known.

neel: a storm of emotions.

a man who changed me.

shikhar: a friend. and that really, really means a lot.

malvika: one of the most amazing and most talented people i have ever had the fortune of knowing. very beautiful, i think.a wonderful musician. someday, i wish to be a like her (not much tho, just a little!).

abhisek: he's a bastard. but he's one of my best friends. i would never trust him with a good looking girl, but i would, trust him with my life.

rohit: though i dont talk to him much. and some of the things he says really makes me mad. but he would come all the way from hiland park to la martiniere to give a USB net drive in pouring rain and then text me- by the way, forgot to tell you. you looked very pretty.

mad man, i tell you.

abhro: "But baby, you're the right kind of wrong!"

an obsession. but love, nonetheless.

bushra: i would probably not remain in touch with this girl a few more months down the line. but over the last year or so, i have become very fond of her. and had it not been for her, i would have spent many a day in depression and isolation at school.

chit: one of those very few people who stuck by me. thank you.

suchismita: a certain lady who leaves gaping in wonder every time i see her.

a phenomenal woman.

i wish there was more that i could say. but there isnt.

except for what has already been said. that is, i love you. with all my heart.

The nights were grey then.
Grey.
The color of your eyes.
Grey eyes, that pierced through my heart.

Heart.
My heart.
A red, raw heart.
These days, the nights are red.
Red and raw.

Strangely, they all
From a Hemmingway quote
To rail tracks by the Ganges.
From snapshots in sepia
To black horses running wild.
They all
Remind me
Of you.

You.
Burnt memories of you.
But does it matter.
Does it matter,
That it rains no more on December nights.
That Ray Charles has become silent.
That my words have failed me,
Over
And over again.
Failed me,
Since you let go of my hand
At the crossroads of this very busy street.


These days, the nights are red.
Red and Raw.