Sunday, April 27, 2014

To Hell With You


Oh! Lord of Good Times
where in the fucking hell art thou
weren't you the cursed one to say
"you shall reap, as you sow"

Come out of hiding, you wretched thing
grinning behind the curtain of time
have you, I will, despite your chicanery
owe you no prayer, no word sublime.

Keep trying you may, to break my soul
even resent being born on this earth
hone your tools, train your devils
I leave it to none, to measure my worth.

Should you mistake, my graceful silence
as a licence to gloat and thrill
remember I'm a fighter, peaceful at best
at my worst, I enjoy the kill.

So come, unleash, bare it all,
go to your ugliest extreme
I will scatter, and I will gather
and the good of me, will reign Supreme.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

The Gift


27 years ago, he sat her on his laps, turned her face to his, looked into her eyes and told her – she was his god. He loved her, above everyone else, and would do that for all his life.

She absorbed each word, squeezing in the last drop of its meaning.

And why wouldn’t she? If the decades didn’t change her feelings, his importance in her life…why should she assume that his too was a statement in exaggeration? Just another flight of romance? After all, men had come and gone before and after him, but he alone had stuck. While others had admired her, loved and pampered her, he WORSHIPPED her. Spoiled her mad. Really, she could put the entire world on one side and him on the other. And the balance would still tip towards him. He gave her more than everybody else put together. Much much more – care, love, attention, appreciation, inspiration, evaluation – so much that she had been full and fulfilled ever since.

It would have appeared strange to a third eye, that she never doubted a word of what he said, not even when he refused to marry her. He, however, didn’t see it as refusal. He only thought it was lack of conformation. To which she asked him to go take a walk, but not for an instant, did she doubt his word.
When she heard people recalling their past affairs, the lightness in their voice rattled her. It never occurred to her, that miles away, in his own universe, he’d ever speak of her like that. True, he had moved on in life, he had children to care for, ageing parents to tend to, ambitions to feed…but did that mean his love had diminished? No, an inner voice screamed. His love was like an invisible force, an indescribable power that kept her earth and sky in their place. It did not need confirmation, or dialogue, to be sustained. It needed only faith, and she had an unshakeable amount of that.

She whisked away the residues of doubt from her mind. She too had borne children and forged new ends. The world can move on, but the two of them, will move WITH. She knew. Knew that he too did. Their shared truth. Truer than anything else.

And so, after 27 years, when she was no longer the shapely figure with succulent skin, when all of her hair had turned grey, when her knees hurt and flesh sagged, she took out the peacock blue silk sari he once gifted her. He’d got it specially made for her, going to the city’s best embroiders to do filigree embroidery in resham. And then, after months of laborious and precision workmanship, he presented it to her. A heart-warming shining fabric in luscious shades of blue. He had draped it around her body with his own hands.
She held the sari reverentially. Touched the fabric with grateful hands, a tinge of red returning to her cheeks. Dug her face in it. Kissed it.

And then, she called her daughter, a would-be bride, into the room. Wordlessly, she handed over the sari to her, satisfied to see the gleam of joy that lit up her eyes.

Another step, she knew, towards immortalisation of love. 

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

My Blank Space


I am your Blank. Fill it as you like.

Let it lie vacant, unnamed, undefined. Let it be shapeless… a formless wealth of exhilarating love. A kennel, a cave, a house, a desert, a moonless night, a moonlit park, an endless ocean, a cranny of a nest – anywhere, anything. Vacant, not void.

Wear the feathers of freedom, and without flying beyond your sky of responsibilities, step out from that threshold of societal propriety. Make an exception and let us remain fluid. Let the sea of our souls fill the blanks as and how it desires. There’s no need to mould its shape or to carve out its path. These waters of understanding know well what to leave untouched.

That blank space of what I will be to you and you to me… subsumes more than what can ever be conveyed in words. It is that area of bright white light, an eternal source of it. Convert that energy into whichever form you like. Pick out any strand of colour, bathe in it or just revel in its sight. Be the richest – choose to define or un-define it.

Ever seen a live musical concert? Two maestros, immersed in the passion of their respective instrument, pour in universal energy and pour out their souls as they play it. They bend the music to their command, they let it flow smooth before reining it back, they kiss its wave and flirt with its pace, and gradually bring it to a pulsating crescendo. And the moment they both bring their beats to ‘सम्’, their eyes meet briefly and their lips break into an involuntary smile. In that one moment of divine understanding, an entire audience is held captive, enthralled in the timeless beauty of perfect understanding. Mind-heart-action in sync.

And so, my dear, my twin-soul, the child of my heart, the love that brims me over, I say to you – I am your ___________.

Let it be filled with the divine understanding we’re fortunate to share. We are the richest. We define who we want to be. Or better still, leave it a happy, a complete, an all-consuming BLANK.