2011 - Remembering Them

And this is for remembering all those that we lost in 2011. From those in Japan, to those in Sikkim, the victims of AMRI, and illegal liquor close home, those in Christchurch, Mumbai Bombings, those in Libya, all the casualties in the 'Arab Spring', to all those close to us that we lost- the brother, the mother, the friend, the uncle, the son, the father, the grandparents, the lover, the wife, the daughter, the acquaintance; and also all those stars of eternal glory - the actors, singers, entrepreneurs, sports stars. You shall all be remembered. 

2011

You can go to sleep crying and with a broken heart, You can wake up one morning to find yourself ugly and disfigured. You can break down every moment of everyday, You can see yourself transform into a huge burden of uselessness, You can curse yourself for being stupid, You can lose friends and their affection and never be able to figure out why they left you, you can torture yourself to give up on who you loved, but you can never STOP LOVING yourself, or give up on yourself. And there will always be some wonderful people around you to get you through life. This is what 2011 taught me. :)

It Is The Sky I Sing To

It’s the Sky I sing to, and the Sky I sing for.

You should know this. Today, I am no longer afraid of what people might have to say. If you had waited around for a while longer, you would have fought off your fears as well. Only today, I have a fear far more labyrinthine than the one I could have ever weaved when you were with me. A fear that hints at loneliness, at helplessness, at being stranded without a soul to relate with. You were clever in not having stayed back to face these fears. You were cruel to have left me to fight them all by myself.

I have never revealed your secret to your world. Neither to mine. You lured the only ones that knew of your truth over to your side. I had sensed you would try the same with me, and you did. Only, I resisted. Not because I didn’t want my colors to help paint your portrait, not because I didn’t want my soul coalesce into your absence, but because I have to answer to people. I have to live for other people.

You also owed answers to other people. You needed to finish painting the beauty of our world. If only you weren’t in such a hurry.

And now, in dark nights, when I sit alone munching at cookies, you have no right to come and disturb me, to massacre my mental sanctity and peace, the way you do. You have no right to use the estuaries of thought to seek entry into the ocean of my mind, at times when I’m least expecting you to. On Christmas nights, suffocated under thick layers of fog and loneliness, I expect you to call out my name. And every August, every drop of rainfall on my skin reminds me of your fingers teasing me, my face, my hands and limbs.

Today, I can’t sing into a stupid looking telephone, expecting your warm voice at the other end. I do not seek to sing Summer songs or midnight lullabies or Birthday couplets to you through the phone. Instead, it is the Sky I sing to, praying to it to ferry my melody over to you, wherever you are. And who would know it better than you, that it is the Sky I sing for.

In Another Morning - II

And in another morning, the sun also rises,

Over Libya, where new hopes are born,

Over America, with which disappointment, is torn,

and Over Calcutta, where nothing ever changes,

Except the occasional government.

In Another Morning

In another morning, (there) was a proud sunlight.
That marched into our room, with delight.
And there were incomplete dreams,
Misty, ethereal, reeking of the previous night.
There was poetry, Oh, bless the poetry,
Lyrics of reassurance, of a future bright,
There were naked limbs, and sudden smiles,
Love in the creases on the forehead, quiet.

In another morning, there was a tender touch,
And almost ecstatic was the associated joy.
There were white sheets, pristine, that gave us
Shelter, and provoked us to completely destroy,
The notions of society that surrounded us.
The white sheets had a glow that did enjoy,
Parity with the aura of ecstasy in our hearts.
So, contented was I with you, oh (my) boy.

The tales of another morning(s),
Have perished since,
Our fairytale, like all others,
Did (tragically) die.
All I can do is
Dwell in refrains,
Haunted by memories,
Of your goodbye.