The search ends here!

I wont search for you anymore
Wont look across heads to see that eye meeting mine
Wont walk into parties knowing that you might be there somewhere

I wont cross those bridges, hoping you’ll be on the other side
And that there will never be a bridge again that I might have to cross alone
I wont smile behind my tears again
Knowing that you will never give me a chance to cry again

Those days of searching are over my love
What lies in front of us today
Is a crossroad
Its us who have to take the call

We will choose our fate
And decide
If crossing or meeting is what we want to do!

You Died

You died
The day the rain washed the window panes
And instead of being a child again
I sat and watched it alone

You died
The day I turned the lock
Because there was nobody else
Who would run back to say “I didnt leave”

You died
The day I pushed my plate away
Looking at the flowers, the crockery, the candlelight gleaming in the dark
And I couldn’t remember the words you said at dinner last

You died my love
In my heart, in my soul
But you lived on somewhere else
And in that life
I wish you create moments
That dont need you to die again

Moving

“Why do you take forever to choose curtains?” she heard him muttering under his breath, as she carefully tiptoed around the carelessly thrown curtains all over the floor. Giggling with excitement, yet quite determined about what she wanted, she ignored him with a smile, pouring over everything she liked, in absolute detail, unable to make up her mind. It was only an hour later that they both emerged from the shop, she triumphant, he looking absolutely bedraggled and bored. It was their first home together and she knew how she wanted it to look. Constrained by budgets, yet unbound by love, she would make sure they woke up in a sun-dappled bedroom every morning, the little glitzy polkis shimmering in the sunlight, against the white mulmul curtains that hung carelessly over her window.

The cartons seemed never-ending. They were stacked in all sizes. Some were labelled, some just had their names scrawled with a fading black marker. He was huffing and panting, lugging them across the rooms, trying to figure out at the earliest, what went where. Else it would be double the work he knew. She wasn’t one to let things lie around lightly and wait till the next weekend to unpack. The boxes seem to have multiplied in number she thought, looking down at them. Ten years. She was putting ten years into neat little boxes, labelling them room by room, naming them to be only her own. What would she do with his stuff though? Keep them in a separate box or pile them in with hers? Putting them together would be easier. But maybe it was best otherwise. They were his and she had hers. And now there wasnt a we.

Letters to You-8

If I used all my energy to call you back
Would you come back to me?
If I washed your face with my tears
Would you be the rain for me?
If I lit up your world with my smile
Would your soul glow for me?

There was a time when our worlds were bound together
When our lives were not made of clay
When our garden of Eden bore proof of our love
And the nights melted into warm wonderful days

They all seem a haze now, my love
Like the road that never seems to end
The lights in the distant, flickering as I drive along
The pain though never seems to end

There will be a day, I tell my soul
When our lives will be inextricably linked like a chain
When my tears will melt into yours
And our smiles will never cease to end

I wait for that day, my love
For you to find your way back into my soul
For you to tear my heart open and bare
And write this story again

That morning

I knew you that morning
As the sun made its way into our lives
Breaking the darkness, all I saw
Were eyes that carried a whole new world
You sat there beside me
Telling me what a beautiful world it was out there
Your eyes sparkling
Telling me stories of lands you had traversed
The battles you had won
I reached out
To feel your fingers in mine
The smell of your skin lingering on my pillow
My fingers moved in the air
And as the light slowly entered the room
All I saw
Were shadows of a life gone by

The day the music died

There was music every morning
Known, unknown and new
As the alarm rang, piercing through the room
Breaking the darkness that enveloped my sleep
I knew what I would wake upto
The words made no sense perhaps at times
Just hazy syllables, strung together with chords
And yet as I listened
I knew you had heard it too
And that perhaps was what tied me to you
In a universe so far way
Knowing you were there, I was here
Yet a fleeting moment in time
Was all that was needed
To tell me I was special
And make me fall in love
Again!

It’s happening again

it’s happening again. I heard a new group today doing some fantastic music and the only person I wanted to share it with was you. There was this irresistible urge to just type into your chat box and tell you about it. And then I stopped myself. What if you were busy? What if you were having a lazy holiday lunch with your new girlfriend? what if you were doing something, anything? but most of all, what if i bared my heart in front of you again, just to have it broken again. So I stepped back and saw the entire thing happen again, in slow motion. Repeat!

When is it ever enough?

Do we ever stop putting ourselves out there? Do we ever tell our hearts to stop counting that extra beat when it does? We don’t or maybe some of us do. I don’t and today as I sit here and write, with yet another heartbreak that is making me feel I cant walk anymore, I wouldn’t wish it to be otherwise. Because that would mean that I have lost my essence. That my soul has given into the cynicism of the world and what they tell you about not falling in love. That fear has overtaken what I consider my greatest strength.

Someone I know very well and who is a therapist by profession keeps telling me that I am ruled by my heart. That the nurturing spirit that I have will really be my greatest winner in life- he calls it my trump card 🙂 But yet then I wonder, how does this go wrong every time? What is it that the world sees that I am missing every time and I go headlong into it, prepared for what the universe will dole out, yet not quite prepared for the heartbreak that I somehow I know will follow. It often makes me think whether we set ourselves up for it? To have heartbreaks, one after the other, every time wishing it was different and yet thinking that this was a lesson I needed to learn? I dont know and my foolish mind tells me I will get stronger, this will get better and I will be wiser. I will be able to see it way before, like a bright red light telling me not to take one more step forward. And I know my heart will ignore that red light completely and go ahead, knowing that a crash is only inevitable. But then again I live in Delhi and I have seen enough people go through red lights in a blink of an eyelid and come out safe on the other side. Yeah, I know that’s not cool but the point is that at times one has to zip past red lights to address other important things that’s lying at the other end. And maybe one day I will follow traffic rules, only go ahead when its green. But that would be superbly boring. So till then that happens I think Ill follow what I am doing right now. And nurse myself back to health, hoping every time that there is a wee bit inside me that’s just getting stronger and wiser. Till then 🙂

 

And that story about “Loving Yourself”

It’s true when they say you cant give love if you dont have love for yourself. I never believed this, putting it down to motivational leaders and gurus saying the right things to lost souls in this weird world we live in. But over the last year or so, as I have gone drifting, often looking for just a hand to hold, just a kind word, just a warm hug, I’ve realized it doesn’t come easy. Things look rosy,people look lovely. Often you can see that warm light emanating from a place within them and you think that will be enough to salvage your broken heart, join it together and give it a new meaning. And that realization makes you walk on that path, completely blindfolded by love, thinking that the other person comes from the same place that you do. And it’s true. They do. But that place is also a broken one. That place where they emerge from is also scarred and wounded, held together very gently by strings that are just allowing them, as they do you, to just survive in this world. Go from one day to another. Not kill ourselves but just breathe and look forward to that hour when this day will end and the next one will start, hoping very faintly that it’s going to be different. Deep down we all know it wont be different. At the very least, it will be same, if not worse. But it’s not going to be better this soon. It cant and there’s no point hoping it will. They are also looking to you for hope, for sustenance, for a safe haven. So when you reach out, hoping that hand will grip yours in the dark, you have to know they might not. Your hands might come close, your fingers might touch, your palms might brush each other. But they might not always clasp. And that’s fine. You dont need someone else to hold your hand tight. You need to be able to clasp your hands together yourself, put them over your soul, protect it from the winds that might tear you apart and just know that the power you have in yourself is enough to help you live. For now atleast.