The Fall of Autumn

As she made her way to her cold car- the only one in the deserted parking lot- Amulya’s mind took her to the night when he ended up here. And she wished it hadn’t. 

Last night, she saw him again. Of the eleven nights Amulya spent religiously walking up to his room just to stroke his cheek and wish him a good night, this was the last. He has left her and there is nothing she can do to stop him now. “I just hope you shine as bright as everyone said you would, wherever you end up”, she said to herself, her breath billowing white puffs in the cold December air. 

He and Amulya went long back. In fact, he was a part of her life for as far back as her memory took her. It had been just a day since he left but it felt to her as if an entire lifetime had passed. She never got to have much of him in his last days, anyway. So many people had hovered all around him that she can bet her last penny on the fact that he did not get enough time to even register their faces. Sitting on the corner of her bed in the darkness, she allowed herself to go further into her memory since she had ventured to step into it anyway. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the inevitable outburst of helpless sobs. But she seemed to get a weird high off this. She would think about him, tear herself into pieces, then gather those pieces back up and go about as if nothing had happened- until some random instance struck her memory once again. This had become a pattern for the past twenty- four hours.

This time she thought about his blue eyes. Throughout his life, people had marvelled at the way he looked. This, along with his kindness and his wisdom made him the star attraction in the family. His milky white skin paired with those impenetrable crystal blue eyes, in a family of brown skin and brown eyes, made him stand out. What else made him stand out was his upright, strong and confident demeanour. He wasn’t particularly tall but the serious expression he always wore on his face made people respect him the way one would respect their guru. His dark round glasses and his loud and clear voice made him someone who could not be messed with. He was grand. He was enigmatic. He had been a great sportsman and athlete. From hockey to long jump- he aced it all. In fact, he had turned his passion for sports into his career at Roorkee University. But- there’s always a but- just like with every single person on this planet, life happened to him.

Amulya now went back to the day when she was shooting for a short film project with her friends. She was in the middle of being slapped and thrown on the floor by her abusive husband when her phone rang. The hint of alarm was clear in her mother’s otherwise calm voice.

“Beta, go back home right now. We’re on our way back as well. Baba lost his balance and fell.” There was a short pause on the other end and then in an almost whimper, her mother said, “he’s hurt.”

Up until this moment Amulya had not been too acknowledging of Baba’s presence in the home- or in her life. She had done what was required of every grandchild to do and that was essentially where her relationship with him ended, apart from the occasional storytelling sessions where he would narrate anecdotes from the past that Amulya had learned by heart over these seventeen years of her life. But she loved hearing them over and over again.

The last three months, Amulya thought, went by in a blur. She tried remembering what those three months felt like but all she could recall were little bits and pieces of stark images that now seems to be engraved on her mind. Endless, sleepless nights, shaking hands, dribbling drool, forgetfulness and broken speech. This is all she could remember and, perhaps, all she would remember from hereon of those three months. Instead of tearing apart this time though, she surprised herself. She got up and gave out a little sad laugh. It was funny, she thought, how a lifetime of grandeur could be overshadowed in three swift months, and be packed away and sent over to the other side.

That pleasant October day fastened Baba’s departure. With each passing day, Baba’s winter neared until he was as cold as that December night which took him away. 

Untitled

If I know I have found you,
Why can I not find the words
To tell you I am going to keep you
Why can I not write poems about you
To tell you about the warm heaviness
That swells my heart, only thinking about you
Every time I try,
Look for metaphors for your perfect bright eyes
Words stop at the pit of my throat and choke me,
Knock the wind out of my system.
Every time I try,
Compare your embrace to sunshine
A feverish warmth surges through me
Making it impossible
For me to scrawl in ink, across pages.
Words run through my head
Like a hurricane, I cannot make sense of
I have forgotten the art
Of painting you
In colours so vibrant and permanent
That you will spend the rest of your life living in them.
I do not know anymore
That overwhelming fervour of 3 am
Converting the thud of my heart to art,
Leaving behind indelible marks,
I have forgotten to rhyme like a sane poet
The one good thing I knew-
Bleeding onto blank pages
Painting them black, in clichés-
Now escapes me.
For when I look at you
In your rawest form, I just see you.
Your eyes don't remind me of oceans,
Your smile of the crescent moon
Your hair doesn't feel like soft wet grass
And your embrace doesn't smell of the hills.
For when I look at you,
I am reminded of nothing
I have ever seen before
Even remotely close to being as beautiful
As you.
My limited vocabulary and even limited experiences
Cannot do justice
To the phenomenon of you.

Intergalactic Synchronised Swimming

Lay me down tonight
Peep into my eyes
Claw open my mouth,
The stairway to my insides
Look at the universe I contain inside.
Marvel,
Marvel at the darkness
Spilling over with diamonds shimmering,
Burning with stories, age old
Growing only beautiful
Each passing moment.
Look deeper and stare 
Stare at the bursting colours
Growing brighter with fading memories
Leaving behind hues
Of long lost reminiscent touches.
Dive, drown in my universe
Find the moon resting in a left corner
Always burning, a little scarred,
What even the grayest clouds could never mar.
Gape at it sustaining a whole universe
A universe with its little streams of water.
Trace with your fingers the tangible
Trace rocky soils, sprouting weeds
Pluck colours and fragrances off me,
Decorate yourself,
Breathe in the clear sky and the dewy grass
Immerse yourself completely, surrender wholly.
Clench close fistful of diamonds
Enter me a moment, close your eyes
Let yourself be the universe I contain inside
Surrounded by the universe I carry outside.

saudade

Will you fancy sitting down with me?
Mend all your rules only because you claim to love me?
The man who sees in black and white,
Will you indulge in grey for me?
Take my face in your hands
Stare down my eyes, gape open my soul
And find my blood reeking of regret and repentance,
Will you find it in your heart to forgive me?
Will you let your head be quiet tonight?
Listen to your heart scream whispers, the only rhythm it knows,
Put your head to my heart
And hear it scream apologies, a rhythm you have never heard before. 
Will you trace my tearstained cheeks
And find the will to wipe them clean,
Like the memories that haunt us and keep you away from me?
Allow time to tend the daggers I sowed, love
Watch me pluck each one out,
And decorate with flowers the holes I dug
Will you fancy sitting down with me?

Greys to Greens

Prologue.



Tall buildings greyed my mornings
The smokey air reeked in my lungs
And cramped roads never were home to me.
The ghosts of sun rays
Splitting across the sky
Hitting the horizon in multiple hues
Lurked in overhead metro rides
Until I did find home
On the other side of a fenced wall
Sharing smoke at 3 am.
Tall buildings still grey my mornings
And these cramped roads are not my home
My home is no more confined
To spaces and skies and grass
My home now has a face.
Its deep eyes are dark forests
I'd often get lost in
Only to find myself
Its hair, the soft wet grass
My fingers cannot resist.
Its embrace smells of the fresh air
My lungs yearned for
And its laugh now echoes
In each crevice of my body
Like the lullaby of that nightingale
On my windowsill.
And its smile,
My crescent moon,
My solace 
In the dead of the night.

Amāvāsyā

I woke up half an hour late today

Hit the snooze button

And went back to bed

I don't remember what my alarm clock sounds like anymore
Your patient voice no more echoed in my ears
I was never a morning person, you see
How could I ever be
The crescent moon lay inside you 
And you lay right beside me

Your mornings started way too early for me

Your angelic voice would hit me like a serenade, too sweet

But instead I'd pull you in
Wrap myself around your brilliant light

In my dark bubble as you tried to break free, giggling

I woke up half an hour late today

Dismissing my alarm clock into background noise
Waiting for my serenade

Until I was jolted up by reality

Your mornings now will still be too early for me,

Just your mornings now will never be for me

I will still never be a morning person, you see

But wake up just the same

A little too late

The remnants of that moonless darkness

Shaped like you, stretched across my face

I will lay in bed all by myself

For a little too long

As your voice slowly becomes a distant memory

I woke up half an hour late today

And stayed in bed
Until my memory brought
That sweet serenade back into my ears

And pushed me off the bed

But one day I will learn
To wake up to myself again.

Beautiful Lies

When your thin lips

Break into a goofy smile

Touching those warm deep eyes,

Like the ocean on a June afternoon

Just right enough to dive in,

It feels like the sun breaking from the clouds,

Shooting rays of silver light

Upon a once grey sky.

When your broad chest,

Like the cliff the waves of my ocean come crashing back to,

Engulfs my smallness,

Like a warm blanket

On a January night,

It feels like cold water

Being pumped out of my lifeless lungs,

Turning my lips pink again.

When you rest your plump nose,

Like the plush pillow my forehead loves,

Against mine, looking down
Into my hyperventilating eyes,

Like the break of dawn

Upon an enraged stormy night,

It feels like every atom in my body

Is pausing and meditating,

Finally resting.

When I put my hand against your heart,

Like the universe containing galaxies after galaxies,

Your hard chest with mush inside

Becomes my home,

One I cannot let go of.

I will soon run out of similes and metaphors

Just like I will soon run out of longing and sighs

Because time, my friend, heals

Wounds that eyes miss,

That science cannot reach

And time, my friend, etches each memory onto the brain

Like scars on skin.

But as long as I haven't run out of time,

I shall not stop

Painting your picture beautiful in twisted words,

A little different each time

Like pink clouds on lilac sky.

Greens to Greys

I am of the kin

That grows up switching houses,

Filling them up to call our own.

In the same city, for five years

I had five homes.

Every time I'd leave,

I took a piece of it along.

The peacock feathers 
Shed in the backyard of one
Adorned the next,
Mom's hibiscus from one's garden
To another's walls.

My mere lifetime became a museum

Of doormats, lime paint and echoes in empty rooms

That reside safely 

In each of my bones
Like relics preserved,
Too precious to be displayed.

But I saw in movies 
And I saw in my grandfather, 

People I never understood
Who left pieces of their bones 

In homes,
Their hearts inside bricked walls,

Light wrecked to darkness

Like the concrete fours they lovingly built-

Until now.

Only my home is not guarded by brick walls

My home has no walls

It is vast open lands

That smell like freshly cut grass,

Clean air and chilly winds in September

My home looks like lush green forests

Residing April blossoms

And wide endless roads.

My home is not guarded by tall walls and wrought iron gates

It is guarded by greens on chests,
Combat boots,
Heavy metal on shoulders-

Infallible during mere earthquakes

That simple floods cannot corrode.

My home is not grey or white or yellow or pink

My home is green through and through

And for the first time in eighteen years,

I have been rendered completely homeless.



Epilogue.

Halo

If buildings reside

strange silences

and rains echo

in flooded streets.

If the faces around

are no more familiar,

please remember

you will always have a home

to come back to.

I will pray, everyday

that every house you enter

gets tinted by the hues

of your love and warmth,

that every soul you find

gets brimmed with the charm

every crevice of your being

is well versed with.

I will pray, everyday

for your happiness,

and for others' around you,

just like I found mine.

One Way

I love you
To the moon,
But never back
Because once I finally have
The two things
That engulf my soul,
Why would I want to detach myself
From the only world I have ever known?