Not today…

Someday I will find my peace.

Even in the things I dearly miss.

For the things that I never had, what’s the point in being so sad?

Someday I will come to terms with the half filled glasses and empty spaces. 

But not today.

Someday I will try to change what I don’t like. 

Someday I will find the missing piece of the puzzle or at least the dots will join.

I will chase the days and not dreamy nights. I will create smiles on their faces and not just word arts.

Someday acceptance will come at no cost, and “what if” will be amusement and not the path that’s lost.
Someday. 

But not today.

Today, just take me away. 

To a faraway land, where no one would know my name and where I come from. 

Where my fantasies would be realities just for a while long. 

Where I would tell my tales to bring smiles, 

where people would not read name tags but eyes. 

I would find my fountain of small joys. 

I would return home without needing stars to guide.

Someday. 

But not today. 

Oh not today. Today just let me be.

Right where I am with my random musings. 
Today just let me drift. 

Oh today.Just for today.

Almost

I don’t have a yellow umbrella. I did go to them with a blue French horn but they decided not to come to the window. I do take a peek from my window once in a while, maybe, just maybe…I socialise at parties with a ballot box costume, no luck yet. I am waiting for my Goliath National Bank building to happen; which someday I will point at and say-‘This is my creation’. I am almost there, but just almost. 

In this series of missed chances, mistakes and wrong choices, some wins and but most failures, nothings and broken heart pieces, do you know how I survived and what kept me going all these years? It was you Ted. 

You taught me to make mistakes even though I knew it was one; because I had to, to learn. You inspired me to still go on, to doubt and yet believe in everything. Even though Universe is too busy with important things, I still look for signs from it. Somewhere may be I will spot my yellow school bus or bass guitar and find my calling. You made me feel okay to be scared, to take chances and to hopelessly cling on to hope. 

There was a profound truth in what you said about beauty in the unfinished arts. And along the way I came to terms with my ‘almosts’, almost started loving them.  

I know one day a moment will come when I will look back and all the dots will be connected. I know one day I will walk into the classroom full of students and I will know this is where I belong. I know one day when I am almost ready to leave, I will find him at the platform with a yellow umbrella in hand. It will be your voice which will tell me to go and say, “Hi.”

Until then I am picking up every lucky penny, cherishing a locket as a sign from the  Universe and living in my almost…

Inglorious Battle

Once in a while comes that day,

When Empire strikes and Death Eaters block my way.

For next door neighbour, it is just a Saturday;

To friends & family, I sound happier than weekday.

Little do they know, I am desperate to find a wand,

barely even holding lightsaber in my hand.

“Obi-wan Kenobi, you are my only hope.”

“Remember to tun on lights” Dumbledore, you once told.

But where are you two when I need you the most?

For universe this is a meaningless flake, 

But for me, my entire world is at stake. 

I know I am not a superhero and to call myself a ‘victim’ will be gutsy. 

May be a fool wounded by reality and locked up in fantasy?

Well now. It is just me. Nothing less, nothing more.

Deep breath. Count till five. Defying gravity, here I dive.

The only super power I hope I have, I bring it to my aid.

The false army of my vanity is already dead. 

Armed with only my pen and words, I conjure up the spell of thought.

On the scared home ground of ink &  paper, my inglorious battle is fought. 

Wounded. Beaten. Exhausted. Dishearten. 

I wonder if I want the day to end or begin again.

Because my tomorrows always hold a promise;

a promise of a new battle…

Curled up in bed, scrambling for strength

until dreams take the pain &  pen away-

Then again, every once in a while comes that day,

When Empire strikes and Death Eaters block my way. 

Namma Bengaluru

I don’t know when, I don’t know how

But Bangalore became my own town.

Are three years long enough they asked?

Is my illogical reasoning strong enough they asked?

Of course I curse at traffic and wince at burning lakes

In the criss-cross of smaller mains, one step of change is what it takes.

Breath of fresh air at Cubbon park,

Weather changing like mood swings 

And rare sights of Gulmohor like finding a lost ark.

Stumble upon MG and 100 feet again & again,

Chickpet has its charm & Commercial lives upto its name

Darshanis & breweries side by side,

Pick your vice-Filer Coffee or Amruth on ice.

I don’t know when, I don’t know how

But Bangalore became my own town.

Oh, and the people…

Warm, welcoming, ever so smiling.

Showed me a place for best idli & kapi,

Invited home for local recipe. 

And some, just guided me to my house, 

when the stars were not shining…

Techies, poets, singers & writers,

Passionate art lovers, pet owners,

Start up strugglers & life jugglers;

Found them all at quaint cafes

They all had found something, in their Bangalore days.

From “gotilla” to “swalpa”, has been quite a journey;

From house to home, that will be some day.

Yes, you may miss the sea, chaat & ginger tea.

Beat of night, pace, free roads and structures 

There will always be something missing…

But it is Bangalore. It has something of it’s own yet just not quite there. 

A long way to go; but’ don’t give up, there is a pure lake somewhere. 

Are these changes good enough they asked?

Is my illogical reasoning strong enough they asked?

Enough said and enough shown.

I don’t know when, don’t know how.

But Bangalore became my own town...

Beyond all the cliches…

It’s a mirage. Some claim to have found it, some claim to have lost it. But nobody has the first clue about it.

Never understood this love. But always wondered about it. Somehow I am never thrilled by the bond which is defined by the looks, habits, likings or convenience…walk under the stars, conversation over coffee, knowing all the favourites, shoulder to cry on, nostalgic dance, saving from misery; always felt too shallow an expression for love. These are just cliches. Shouldn’t this all consuming, much eluding, most searched glorious thing called “love” deserve a befitting definition? And much purer expression? “Always” said Castle and Kate while fighting together for justice everyday, Cap agreed to avenge because Peggy believed it was right, Leia stayed back for Solo to escape safely, Neo was born out of Trinity’s belief and a stronger was Will & Mac’s bond with the shared vision of purity of fourth estate. We saw them as tells of superheroes, dramas and mystery. But above all, weren’t they all nothing but the most profound love stories one could ever find? Shouldn’t this strongest emotion, which humanity so proudly claims to posses, born out of a larger cause than a mere attraction? 

At the world’s end, there is a place for you and I. Beyond the black & white, a shade of grey. Beyond the expectations, a place of admiration. Beyond all the wins and losses, a battle worth fighting for. Beyond all the labels, a true sense of being. Beyond all the cliches, there is a place for you and I.

Dil ke zaronke se

Zamana  ishq karta raha aur hum ishq ko samajh ne me waqt jayar kar gaye. 

Do baaten duniya ko samjha di,  par kudh to fir bhi nadan reh gaye.

Mauka mila jab dil ki bazı lagane ka

Tab jeet ke dar se, khud se hi haarte gaye.

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Ae zindagi ab teri sharten hai na-manjoor.

Meri khwaishonko na saza de, hai ye zamanen ka kasoor.

Mana ke chahat pe ada, mera dil bhi hai thoda majboor. 

Par kya karega baghi? Zindagi is par tera hi to hai suroor. 

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Ae zindagi aise jeene ki aadat na dal, kabhi kisi pe marne ki izazat na hogi.

Tanhai me jeene ki ibadat na kar, humsafar se kisi din shikayat si hogi.

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Kabhi kisi maud par fir mulakat hogi

Adhuri si thi jo thi fir wahi baat hogi.

Aadha sa izhar aur pura sa inkar,

Fir koi shuru takrar hogi.

Shayad khatam ho ne ko hi, nayi shuruwat hogi

Kabhi kisi maud par fir mulakat hogi.

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Dil ke andhere ko roshni de us shayri ki aas hai

Tere dehlij par chod aaye the us mohobbat ki talash hai.

Khayalon ne zinda rakha hai dil ko

Sawal zindagi ke to yuhi mar dete.

Umeed ki baazi lagayi hai, jannab,

Warna ishq ke khel me kab ka har jate.

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E dil-e-nadan teri khatan kya hai? Dard me milite khushi me rakha kya hai?

Tufano me kashti dal ke ab tak jee rahe the, aaj sahilon pe utarke na pucho saja kya hai?

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Gawara hai zindagi se koi shikayat rakhna,

Ek gila zindagi ko hum se bhi hai.

Sans lena yaad rakhte hai har pal

Par kya wo lamha hum jeete bhi hai? 

Coffee.

It has always been about a conversation. It has always been about a world with you and me.

Sometimes they said, they did not enjoy coffee, sometimes their choice of vice was tea. 

I did’t bother because coffee has always been about you and me. 

Then coffee became a habit or was it just about you? 

But then you said one day, it’s just  about what it is. Oh you loved coffee still but now your world was new.

Coffee still remained about a conversation. And about a world lost within me and just memories of you.

We don't know it yet, but may be we are winning!

The best oscar acceptance speeches have never been heard on TV or discussed on social media. They remain safely with the shampoo bottles and high school trophies. Back pages of the old notebook has scene many more autographs and so many school science projects have smiled at the dreams of Nobel laureates. Tennis racket behind the door is still waiting to kiss the Wimbledon grass court. Small pubs, near the tech parks and shiny glass towers, now hold all these secrets. It was never about the fame or the money or the fad, deep down it was always about that feeling of winning. The achievement after the long toil, oasis after a long road in the desert, that feeling of hard work being paid off. Life now is about salary and promotions on a path of pretences and existentialist crisis. But the search of that feeling is on. Kudos from boss, pat from colleagues, a thumbs up from a client; does it live up to the feeling we are searching for? For some of us may be, for most of us not. 

It was tough getting up early for that 8 am meeting specially after handling family crisis a night before, managing house on our own is tough and still we managed the submission of that analysis document over weekend. No we didn’t deserve it  but we got into that shit anyway and we put up a smile in front of the people around, that was indeed brave. Mediocracy was never a curse, who so ever made us believe that, was wrong. Because, through our academic and professional life, reaching above average was an achievement we never gave ourselves credit for. We were never happy being at the middle of bell curve, we always aspired for the top, doesn’t  that sheer will to reach for stars  separates us from rest? May be we don’t know this yet. But just getting by this mundane day, doing our best every moment, bringing smile on someone’s face, being a friend’s shoulder to lean on, trying to be a pillar for the family, giving our seat to a stranger in a metro or just telling ourselves ‘ let’s do better next day’; may be all this counts for something. May be that shampoo bottle knew, may be that autograph in an old notebook had guessed it back then that we will win someday. It might not feel like, but these collective moments will give us that feeling we are searching for. May be we don't’ it yet, but we are winning! 

Broken

“Sometimes, the seemingly most cowardly acts have the boldest intents. But unfortunately, only the acts are seen and judged but the intents get clouded” 

 Sadly, she knows this heroic philosophical thought is just her attempt to make peace with herself. 

Letting him go was the toughest decision she had taken. Decision that was right for him for very wrong reasons and possibly wrong for her for many right reasons. How could she have possibly made him understand why leaving him was the only offering she had in response to his immense love & passion? How could she have told him that he could have become her Mr. Right but she just couldn’t have been his perfect Lady Love? How could she have made him believe that this was not out of lack of love but the presence of purest form of it?

She had put up a coward face of being emotionally dysfunctional, of going by head over heart. But the bravely fought melee within was always about the strongest emotions. He had said, not being together would be the regret in future. How could she have convinced him that this regret is something she can live with but can’t bear the regret of being together and hurting him?

Burdened with guilt and unknown fear now she desperately attempts to resurrect her wounded soul. It is not easy. It is un-conventional and most of all never understood by anyone.His hurt and pain will always be justified. It will have tag of a broken heart. It will be tended with sympathies and in time it will be healed when he meets his love again. But no one will ever know or understand the excruciating pain in the broken corner of her heart which she will have to bear like a pin prick for years to come without even her future love, if any, realising it needs healing. This pricking pain and guilt will be her retribution cloud and the strength acquired after enduring this pain will be his silver lining. 

All said and done, she will always be guilty of breaking his heart and no amount of radical perception can change that naked truth. She will always be spoken as being fickle & selfish and he will always be respected for his actions inspired from this unfathomable force of love.In time to come, things will fall in place and in his happy song, hopefully she will find the notes of her solace. 

But for now, universe is with him. There are heroic legends, there are songs and even fellow travellers for him to move on. But for her, there is only her own shadow. There is broken heart, misplaced dreams and broken faith for her to hold on.