Addictive Joy

It’s been years, since I saw that smile again,
Though only an image, I still cannot restrain,
From wondering, how little has actually changed,
About the feelings, that your smile engaged.

Though in the mind, the vision is always there,
The eyes aren’t satisfied, with an image back somewhere,
They are starving to see it, with their own eyes,
And that still tells me, how slowly our time flies.

To them, you are the raindrop, that broke away,
From the cloud, to quench them, falling this way,
Within them, forever they wish, you would stay,
The mind, it’s jealous, it always makes them stray.

I have never seen it, ever leaving your face,
And never want to, even if only a passing phase,
And each time, the twinkle it leaves in your eye,
That’s just enough, to bid all agonies goodbye.

Seeing it, my overcome tears, always run back,
And a reluctant sorrow, turns its stubborn back,
My mind has only, to hear that laughter’s tinkle,
And it irons out, my every frown’s wrinkle.

Were times I wished, I could touch your laughter,
Feel it and hold it, for now and ever after,
Hold it before my thirsty eyes, and just stare,
Till the moment I have, not a breath to spare.

Felt content, watching those pearls, drop from your lips,
And when I tried, to hold them by my fingertips,
They just dissolved, melting themselves into me,
Flowing in like a joy, the happiest I could ever be.

Try as much, I can’t and don’t, want to let go,
And therefore keep being swept away, by its flow,
For those who feel, life has more sorrow than joy,
They have not yet tasted your smile, and its addictive joy.

After more than two years, yesterday, I saw a photo of Aparna Reddy(Reddy no longer?) on her Orkut profile, and checked out her blog. The first wave of nostalgia hit me, the moment I saw that photo, that smile it could still captivate, not that I doubted it for a moment, but the very idea being proved to my eyes still spellbound me enough to write about it, and those days when I used to submit the exam paper in 1 hour to sit and stare at her for 2 hours, and write “Searching For You” while at it.Still can’t guess what game God was trying to play on me, by making such a smile, and showing it to me for two years and then keeping it etched on my memory, trying to have fun, seeing me wrestling with it.

Immediately I felt I had to write my feeling, I had to record this nostalgia. I couldn’t sleep for the whole night yesterday, fighting with myself to finish the poem first and then sleep, but ultimately my laziness won. Not for long, today morning, the moment I woke up, the feeling started tormenting me again, and so I decide not to push my luck anymore and got down to this. Wish I could spend all my days just looking at her smiling, would make me prefer Earth over Heaven any day.


Where Love Has Gone

Although its lips did move, I couldn’t hear it speak,
Was busy with thoughts, and their noises were at peak,
Else I would have seen it open the door, and walk out,
The room was empty, of that there was no doubt.

I ran out onto the street, to the fountain square,
Where will I head, I see its footprints everywhere,
Walking in all directions, and walking back again,
They were all over the place, like a monsoon rain.

I walked back into the room, now empty and so closed,
I wondered, was this where I had kept love confined,
Where I expected it to stay, until I gave it away,
And it lay there, knowing it wouldn’t see such a day.

Not even a window, where it could see or be seen,
With my mind as guardian, nobody more mean,
My science, my logic, a door it could never break,
I still wonder, how such a fortress, I could ever make.

And yet today, seeing this room empty, I begin to ponder,
Was it ever there, could I really have captured this wonder,
Did I hide it from all else and itself, behind this open door,
Or did it burst open, because there was too much to store.

Whatever the reason, there is no longer love in my heart,
A place I thought it would stay, till I told it to part,
But who was I to build a dam, to contain this flood,
One that blossomed forth from every new bud.

I try to forget it and move on, but I cannot restrain,
To think, of where love has gone, alone again,
But I know it will be back, oozing from my every pore,
If only I promise, to never again close that door.

Special Thanks to Harold Robbins for the title. The moment I first saw it I fell in love with the title, I mean, the very thought, how could love go anywhere? Although have never got round to the book itself, decided that I would explore that title as a thought one day, and dear Robbins, here it is, for all that you gave me.


People discussing them may seem out of place,
They themselves are never found out of place,
They walk with you, and run with you, all the way,
Yet they seem to vanish by the end of day.

Alive or dead, we shall always cast these aberrations,
For, of our own selves, are they not true reflections,
They change with our feelings, change like our mood,
Longer when in glee, and shorter when we brood.

When the light goes out of our dark lives,
It is not in darkness, that the shadow thrives,
It leaves you not, it just envelopes itself around you,
And walks with you, for longer than you knew.

It absorbs nothing, and it dissolves into nothing,
For it is not material, this slippery shadowy thing,
It moves against the light, like an actor in a play,
Yet that is the simplest, of the games it does play.

It is the image of the fears and troubles you carry along,
The ones that will make this journey seem more long,
And yet, it contains also the hopes of getting more strong,
To choose between the paths, right and wrong.

Dedicated to Dear brother Satyajit, who had some reservations about shadows.


When the first ray of sunlight, caresses my face, I think of You,
Warming up the earth, before I can even set foot on the dew,
You burn up my eyes, and yet warm my heart,
A light that awakens, a light that emboldens.

When the first drop of rain falls on my shoe, I remember You,
Washing out the dust, painting the ground anew,
You clean out my emotions, yet nourish them again,
A rainfall that cleanses, a rainfall that rejuvenates.

When the first flower blooms in my garden, I smell You,
You bloomed in every street, in every hue that I knew,
And yet smelled the same, and felt the same,
The fragrance of life, the fragrance of love.

When the first tear flows down my cheek, I cherish You,
You surprise me, coming out just when overdue,
Yet all the while inside, never wanting to bother,
Droplets of sorrow, ones I cannot anymore gather.

When the first smile breaks across my face, I resemble You,
Though You never change, every time it seems new,
You smile through my days, and more through my nights,
A chuckle of delight, the laughter of pure joy.

When the fanfare of success arrives, I want You,
To keep me from claiming, more than my due,
As you did stay, in those moments of my failure,
From the extremities of feeling, a permanent cure.

When I walk under the moonlight, I know You,
One who makes me believe this night is true,
You never walked away, from the darkness of my life,
The beacon of my night, cajoling me into flight.

It makes me wonder, if all these things were You,
Or were they just subtle hints at what really is You,
All these things of yours, they have set me free,
But in reality, it is only YOU, that I yearn to see.

Me And Myself

I fell into a slumber, the likes of it I never knew,
But was somehow sure I was more awake than I knew,
I was hearing myself definitely snoring aloud,
Yet I was alone in the house, with nobody around.

I was trying to get up, but was stuck in the sleep,
I never knew I could, so far into it creep,
Yet there I was, alive and awake, looking at myself,
Confused, who was me, and who was myself.

I felt the pain tearing through my heart, through my breath,
And I began to think, was this the end, was this death,
That creature that everybody feared, but none had seen,
That comes unheralded, and covers you with its sheen.

In a few moments though, I knew not, because I turned aside,
In my sleep, unmindful of myself, sitting there by the bedside,
Myself began to talk, of my thoughts, their deeds and the results,
The times of agony, anguish, and those incessant insults.

He tried to pry me awake with the fear of its consequence,
I knew not, for I couldn’t feel him, or hear his cadence,
As it lilted on about my days here and redemption,
About how there wasn’t any more hope of salvation.

Until I mended my ways, and walked with him, step by step,
Yet, he wouldn’t let me get up, to begin at the first step,
And thus I didn’t know if he existed at all, was he there?
I looked around, and couldn’t see him anywhere.

He walked away, the moment I got awake,
Yet the trail to him, he never did break,
And I felt compelled to him everywhere,
Though not a word more, he would again share.

He led me by my hand, though he could never hold it,
And took me to the ends of places I could never visit,
Upon his light feet, he carried me into the light,
One that blinded and never needed human sight.

And under it, I saw upon myself, all those marks I had inherited,
Marks of the pain, the sorrows that I had long since inflicted,
Marks that stained the spotless white, of the dress I never wore,
And yet, I was sure, it wasn’t me, that I had seen snore.

It wasn’t me, that had done those deeds and could still smile,
It was an aberration, one whose misdeeds could only stockpile,
And yet, there it was, a life form, alive in its heartbeat,
So much alike, so much of me, it just threw me off my feet.

I knew not when I returned, only that it was over for now,
And I kept asking myself only one thing, “how, how”?
Every single word, I saw me confess, and yet hadn’t spoken,
And yet there it was, all crystal clear and unbroken.

The voice of me, or the voice of myself, I knew not,
It neither commanded, and it surely demanded not,
It lulled me off the heavenly cliff, though slippery and steep,
And back into this world, and its myth called sleep.

A lyrical version of my experience on the morning of 17th March, 2007, when I felt torn apart from myself and watched as I talked to myself. The time came to a standstill as I conversed, and discussed my whole lifetime and its experiences, and watched every scene being shredded apart to reveal the stains behind them. Stains that would never go away, but ones that could have been prevented. I watched as I saw myself turning around, twisting and tossing in my sleep, and was yet talking to myself. An experience that I hope I get to see more often.

Yesterday’s Gift

Yesterday’s Gift, is the posterity, that it gives,
The permanence for a while, that memory can grant,
Before the sentinels of change produce their warrant,
And put an end to this unwarranted rant.

Yesterday’s Gift, is the mirror, that it gives,
To look into, and see, your yesterday’s face,
And all those moments, how did you face,
When you never knew, they were, but a passing phase.

Yesterday’s Gift, is the experience, that it gives,
Of knowing the consequences of the moves you made,
Ones that hastened those goodbyes that you bade,
Though all the while, your intellect, from doing so forbade.

Most of all, Yesterday’s Gift, is the power it gives,
To change the way each person today lives,
To ponder over the actions that always repeat,
And to begin the dance again, albeit, to a new beat.

Moving Ahead

When the chips are down, and you only have a frown,
When the person is gone, and the memories stillborn,
When the sunshine has melted, but the heat hasn’t relented,
When all doors are ajar, yet the destination is afar.

It is then you know, that your life is stuck,
And you have exhausted the last drop of luck,
With the first wave of loathing you are struck,
And you realize, this time, there’s no passing the buck.

You cannot for now forget, and maybe forever forgive,
But you know there’s something that’s got to give,
Tired of life and its memories, you can no longer live,
Yet death doesn’t come, allowing you to leave.

Your experience may have held you in good stead,
But to turn a new leaf, they prevent you instead,
Just remember, when all things come to a head,
The only progress you can make, is by moving ahead.

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