From the Top of my Head


My roomie and me were sitting and chit chatting. I was giving her gyaan on love. 😛 And then she asked me the clichéd question – What is love!!! And the immediate reply from the top of my head, was Love is Serendipity. (PS. Serendipity is my favorite word. The reason shall be shared in a future post 🙂 )Serendipity is when you find something that you weren’t even looking for. It always so happens that when you give up on love and people, someone comes along to resurrect the faith.

This gave me something to write. And then one thing lead to another. And I ended up with this paragraph of incomplete and broken sentences, which somehow made sense towards the end. It may be repetitive and clichéd. But at the end, clichés become clichés because they are true and therefore oft-repeated!

So here it is, for whatever it is worth.

Love is serendipity. It happens when you ain’t looking for it. Life passes by when you’re busy making other plans. Be impulsive. Let the first pass. Wait for the second. Go with the flow. It may take you to your destination. Go back packing. Travel to an unknown land. Meet new people. Sit and discuss life experiences. Learn about them. Realize that the world is full of people living so many different lives that you’ll never have a chance to know. Sit and gaze at the sunflower. Follow its eye-lock with the sun, under the summer haze. Sit in a distant land on a sun deck and read a book. Give into love. Don’t question everything. Sometimes the answers that you get aren’t the ones you’re looking for. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. Follow your heart. Publish a book. Write a poem. Don’t over-think. The right person may be the one standing on your right throughout life, when you were busy looking ahead. Get your heart-broken. Give up on love and faith. Travel to the Norwegian countryside. Read, paint, and know what life is about. Decide to give love and people another chance. Walk through a vineyard and remember all the sour moments of life. Come back to take on life head-on. Build your life. Rebuild your career. Follow your dream. You may not get a second shot. Earn money. Live in New York. Shop in Paris and London. Fall in love. Raise your boy to be chivalrous and your girl to be modest. Grow old. Fall in love. Retire to a cottage home somewhere in the countryside of France. Die in peace, without regrets. Know that you had it all, that you lived it all. Because at the end that is what matters.

Time Travel


Well last night, speaking to someone I came across a poem I had written long back (Ok, not that long back. It was December, 2010 🙂 ). I had forgotten about it. But re- reading it last night, touched a nerve somewhere. There is something about that poem that just makes me smile. You know how when you are re- read things later and you look back at the time when you wrote it, there is something that made you want to write, a memory, an instance, a person, an event, a wish or something else – all that just comes back to you. It’s like time travel!

I am a Cancerian and I have the characteristic retentive memory of a typical Cancerian. So whenever I miss something, it just takes me a reading of an old poem or a letter and it all comes flooding back. I may not even remember writing about it, but once I do read it, I can recall each and every emotion and expression associated with it. Sometimes it’s weird, to recall everything in such vividness, because those times you don’t want to.

So if you ever feel like you need a remember a moment, a person or a feeling – write about it. Because there is no better way to preserve it. And when, maybe 10 years down the line, you smile because of the memory, all you’ll have to do is read. And you’ll be there, experiencing it all over again. And there is just nothing that you compare to the smile on your face accompanied by a slight tightness in your throat.

Only two weeks since he had left, and it was already happening. Time, blunting the edges of those sharp memories. She bore down mentally. What had he said? It seemed vital, suddenly, that she know.

She closed her yes. Concentrated.

With the passing of time she would slowly tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day, in fact, years later, when she would no longer bewail his loss. Or not as relentlessly; not nearly. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory’s grip, when overhearing a mother on the street call after her child by Tariq’s name would no longer cut her adrift. She would not miss him as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion like the phantom pain of an amputee.

Every once in a long while, when she was a grown woman, ironing a shirt or pushing her children on a swing set, something trivial, maybe the warmth of a carpet beneath her feet on a hot day or the curve of a stranger’s forehead, would set off a memory of that afternoon together, and it would all come rushing back. It would flood her, steal her breath. But then it would pass. The moment would pass. Leave her deflated, feeling nothing but a vague restlessness.

~ A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini

So this is the poem. It’s about something past, that was good. And how, not having gotten closure about it, leaves a certain kind of mystery and a chance to imagine what might have been. So this is to that memory.

 I Miss You!

It’s become a thing of the past

But I still hold on

Something makes me.

It’s like a stranger in the night

Comforting, yet unknown.

Standing alone thinking about it

It’s peaceful remembering it

A part of me, wants me to get it back

I may, if I try

But it doesn’t matter anymore

This feels true.

Things left unsaid, a mystery around it

Gives me the chance to try my imagination

And make it into something better

Something that it could have been

Something that I want it to be

Its better this way.

Looking at you from a distance

Gives me a chance to miss everything that used to be

I try to point out the part when things fell apart

Then something reminds me, it never did

I know when you look at me,

That you miss me

At least I think you do

Makes me feel good to see I can still affect you

To see you walk away when I enter

To see you still notice

You miss me, don’t you?

But don’t say it

Don’t say it and break the illusion. that might be.

Don’t explain it, don’t justify

I like it better this way

I try to hide that your presence does nothing to me

That’s not true

You know that

When you walk in, there is a slight ache

There are times, when I want to walk up to you

And just kiss you, to see you react

In my mind, you kiss me back

But that ain’t going to happen

Coz I am not walking towards you

I am walking away.

Come behind me, grab me

Tell me you missed me

I’ll forgive and forget

Never ask for an explanation

But then let it be.

I am in mood to write after a long time

Maybe its coz I know you’ll never come

That gives me the depth to write

As I haven’t written in a while

Maybe you’re the reason I am, today

So don’t come back

I like it this way

P.S. Thinking of you by Christian Kane is playing in the background. 🙂

Love

A Cancerian 69


To Where It All Began


“Go back to where everything starts for you. Write from there.” One of my  friends gave me this, so I am going to start to write from here exactly. Mind  you, having you to come up with posts for a blog is a lot of pressure. Coming up with things to write is not an easy task. At least I can’t  come up  with interesting things or even simple words to write, everyday.  That has  been one of my major fears when starting a blog. I just don’t feel  creative  every day. So when one of my friends suggested this, it was a  breath of  relief.

So this is how it all began.

I can’t precisely pinpoint the time when I started writing. I guess these things just happen. A broken heart, a loss of a dear friend or a parent, a   rebellion, a revolt, a farewell – is enough to get us to write, to bare our  deepest emotions to the world. It’s an attempt to give the residual feelings  a definitive form, a way to reach out, a way to remember all that is past, a way to make a wish, a demand or even vent anger, remorse or frustration.

As far as memory serves, the first time I seriously wrote, was for another friend who was going through a bad break up. I was sitting in my English class, form 11. Our teacher was reading Julius Caesar to us and I was scribbling away on a piece of paper, obviously too distracted to listen, when words became a sentence and sentences became a stanza. It was a feeling so intense, because somehow that incident had made a mark on me too. My teacher saw me write something, came over, and leaned in to see what I was doing and when he figured I was writing a poem, he walked away with a smile saying ‘Let me read it when it is done.’ That was one hell of a supportive English teacher. He has helped edit a lot of articles and poems ever since. So that is how I got my first poem done! It required a lot of edits after that, but still that was the first time I actually started writing.

After that, throughout my high school I was a steady writer. I wrote a lot of poems, primarily. But I have always felt that I need a certain intensity in my feelings, in my reactions, to put them into words. That time, those 2 years of high school, were something of a turmoil period for me. A lot of changes, a state of constant confusion, rebellion, a reason to break free, peer pressure, relationships going wrong –almost everything that can go wrong for a teenager! I am not very proud of that stage, but it happened, and majority of what I have written till date is from that time.

After that I came to Pune and life has just gone by. I have no idea where the 2 years in Pune have disappeared. I guess they were happening when we were going for long bike rides, were having coffee at 2 in the morning sitting on the footpath outside CCD, when we were busy fighting over drinking habits, when we were too egotistical to talk to each other, when we fell in love, when we fell out of love. When we realized how life and love works, when we got wet in the rain, when we stayed up all night because we hadn’t done it in a while and because we weren’t going to see each other after that, the first beer, the first high and the first smoke – that is when life happened. But come to think of it, it’s only when the end draws near that you are forced to think of how much time has passed since the beginning and of the long way that you have come.

I seem to be deviating, so getting back to 2 years in Pune, I haven’t written much during this time, because I was busy living it 🙂 . And after a while you learn to accept feelings and emotions (I have no idea what is the difference between the two) for what they are. And outlets to vent anger, disgust, frustration or helplessness change to other more mature forms (pseudo-mature, more like it).

So I will leave you with that first poem of mine. Be easy on it. It was just the first (but maybe one of my best) !

P.S. This aforementioned friend is one of the oldest friends that I have treasured for so many years. She has been a friend since as far as I can remember. We still refer to each other as ‘my best friend since KG 1’, that is how far it goes. Shaleen Wadhwana – it’s been, what, 16 years, of having known each other and I can say without a doubt, the friendship is still as strong.

So Shaleen, this one is for you. Because you know I love you! (and also because this was your idea!) 😛

Shattered

How can someone just snap out of a relationship?

Without ever stopping to realize,

The pain that she will have to endure.

He was not a bad guy, but then,

You can’t really judge people, can you?

Everything we thought he was,

Until now,

Was proven wrong suddenly and falsified.

The agony our friend experienced,

Because of one hard-hearted guy, was unimaginable.

How easy it was for him to say ‘It’s over’ and move on,

Whereas, she stood still,

Too dumbstruck to even realize that everything she had ever lived for,

Had gone.

The world seemed bleak to her,

There was no sunshine,

No rainbows, no flowers,

No love.

Crying day and night she had lost count of the moments passed,

Her eyes puffy,

Made her stand out among the still cheerful faces around.

For whom the world had not changed,

Still filled with the hope of a bright new day,

But, for her,

The world had stopped and she was left in a vacuum of memorable moments,

Nagging at her each passing second.

We tried our best to get out of that vacuum,

But so far we have failed miserably.

As hard as we try,

We still can’t measure up with the pain she’s going through.

My belief in love was shaken so badly,

That I guess it will take years before I believe in it again.

I wished he was always yours,

I wished you both a happy life,

I wished… but our wishes seldom come true.

Your pain can’t be put into words but I’ve tried.

In the end all I want to say is, ‘We love you and will always do, no matter what’

And that ‘We’re sorry this happened and we promise to stand by you no matter what’.

Love you always,

Your friends, forever.