as i move through

The taste of the bitter coffee lingering on my mouth. The weight of your words weighing me down. The clouds of smoke hovering around me. I stay still, don't let it show. And you keep going on and and on and on; trying to talk me down. I sit in and take it all in, like I am soaking up the Sun. You dab your cigarette on the astray quite harshly, might I add. Now you're pointing at me, screaming all sort of names. Your hazel eyes raging, your words stinging. And I toy with my cup. The coffee sill close to the rim. 'Maybe I should add a little sugar,' I muse. But maybe, I should not. I hear a little shuffling and muttering. Then follows and eerie silence. I look up and find him making his way past the glass door. Then I see his latte with the rosette still firm.  "Oh, Good Lord. What waste," I utter. I reach out and sip it slightly. "Mmm...It certainly never is bad." Thus, I sit with the two coffee cups and a Christma...

Do you still shove your hands in your pocket as you walk down the road? Do you still hand comb your hair even when there is no need to? Do you still drum your fingers across your knees, tapping your feet? Do you still climb up to the roof just to feel the breeze as the Sun goes down? Do you still walk in the rain without the worry of getting soaked? Do you still hum your favorite tune at almost every chance you get? Do you or do you not? Because every time I see anyone do any of these, I think of you. And there is this aching need to know if you do too. When you listen to the songs we loved, does it tug at your heartstrings too? When you move past the alleys that we walked in do you see our footprints too? When you meet the people we know, do you suppress the urge to ask about me too? When you let the numbness engulf, do you wish to turn back the time too? But you don't give in, don't fight hard enough. Because like me, you know; even if bits of us are together there, ther...

Am I draining myself? Losing grip, stumbling. Blinking fast, breathing hard. Confused. i am questioning myself... Have I survived? YES. Have I lived? Not sure. I am at loss for words; for hope, for strength. With every step, I am losing a part of myself. A bit of all I once had, is escaping, moving away. Yet, I do not withdraw... I can not. Because, it takes more to let go than to hold on... I do not know where I am heading to. With much at stake, I have lost direction. Slowly, I know, the dark is evading. The edges have blurred. The light obscure.  Maybe I am draining from myself. A little at a time, escaping from myself. The grip is unsteady, slacking... No strength to resist, as the dark engulfs.

She lies on her bed. The moonlight touching her skin... She lies still. I watch her from up close. She seems at peace.. Her eyes closed. I can hear her breathe. It's slow,  but it's there. I reach up and take her hands. They are cold, almost limp. But I know her heart's warm... She lies still. No movements. Slowly, I pull off her duvet; lift her up slightly. God, is she not made of feather? I undo her grey shirt. She is all skin and bones... I put on her pink shirt. Her favorite one... Am I hallucinating? She just smiled, didn't she? She used to. She always did. I rest her lightly back on her bed. Then I snuggle myself beside her. "My Princess," I kiss her forehead. She just hugged me back, didn't she? May be I could lie at peace too. I close my eyes to our entwined hands. And continue listening her breathe.

Little by little the raindrops gently landed on her face... soothing her skin, erasing her frown. A breeze passed by slightly. Making her soft, short curls dance in delight... A tingling feeling across her skin. Or is she dreaming? Just as the sky wore a scarlet hue at dusk and at dawn, her cheeks got painted lightly... A small smile forming on her lips. Unlike to the others, the monsoon brought color to her grey world. Lifting up the veil, letting hope into her shelter... She walked lightly on the water, too... Her slippers long forgotten. The ripples tickling her feet. Her eyes closed as she faced the sky... She let the rain make her forgive and forget. And silently, tears streamed down her face... Then she let the rain wash her. And slowly, she spread her arms and freed her palms... Just like that, she welcomed her life. Thanked the monsoon for all the love. There, she smiled and danced, to the rhythm of the rain... 

All these flickering lights remind me of the love and the life that was... Wait, did I say love? I'm sorry. It was an 'almost love'. Because, sometimes when I reached out, there was a void too deep. Because, sometimes the ache was overwhelming than the care. Now, the alleys haunt me now. The graffitis at the corner scream 'Go away" at me. The park benches look humongous now. Useless. Awkward. Scary. All of it is misty. Too dark for me to find a way.

I always felt a connection to the place. A sort of intimacy. Like all the alleys intersecting one another; reaching so many different places and also the same one. They were confusing. At times intimidating, even. But there was always something fresh about the place. No, it didn't change it's color every other day. Neither did new shops open every other week. But still, the place was vibrant. Always. Always full of life, full of colors. I could spend hours under the Sun soaking the newness of the place , and never tire. Each time I went there, every inch of it allured me, amused me, enchanted me, enlightened me. One thing I know. Pardon, One thing I feel; is that the place was a common ground. From the riches to the poor. From the locals to the guests. From toddlers to grandpas and grandmas. From devotees to lovers. From hawkers to vendors. From pigeons to dogs. From pizzas to panipuri. From cappuccino to tea. ...

"It's 20 km from here," said my father as I hopped on into the bus. "Yay! a window seat!," I say sitting down. I look around, inside the bus, as the journey is yet to begin... A young mother; cradling her child. An old man and his grandson. Couple of college students. A family of three. Another old man. My father. The conductor. The driver. It is half full. And now, off we go. I rest my head on the window pane, letting myself vibrate, letting my head relax, enjoy the free massage. The cool breeze blows my hair, caresses my face, tickles my neck, makes me smile. I squint at the Sun, thanking it for the warmth. With every halt and gear, my head bangs slightly on the pane. No, it doesn't hurt. I enjoy it instead... A Bollywood song sounds from somewhere... Wait, I know this one. Have heard it before. But where is it coming from? Oh, it's the young mother's ringtone. She answers, a sweet smile across her face. Her child is...

They all say it is gonna be okay again. They all say there is gonna be a beautiful tomorrow. They all say it is still the same. They all say there's a happily ever after. And I am standing on the edge keeping the grip steady. 'Cause it's too close to fall down now. 'Cause it's too soon to lose it all now. I've seen my demons. I've known them inside-out. And I know how it feels to be brought down to my knees. The cliff now doesn't seem too high. The climb now doesn't seem too hard. I had been warned too much' but now I've found it all. I have heard all tales, of fear and of defeat. But I stood up to add a new tale of feat and so I did.

I'll be praying for him to look for a better heart. And there, he will be falling for yet another pretty face. Every time, he will be hanging a 'Goodbye' sign at the door. And I'll be waiting outside, searching something 'good' in that 'bye'... Every time, he will be warding me away like I'm some nightmare. And I'll be lost in a fantasy where he's always my best dream. Every time, I'll be asking for forgiveness not knowing the mistake. And he'll be locking all the doors telling me to leave when I never came in. I'm knocking at every other door knowing the keys are locked in his heart. But the key to his heart is with some pretty face I not know. And here I am, telling everyone I'm okay when I don't have a reason to be fine; saying everything will be okay when even the start seems thousand miles away...