To Him

Somewhere there

I have told him

I shall no longer

seek his company

I shall not ever now

pick roses for him

sit looking at him

with longing-full eyes

write passionate verses

 for his hands

I will not touch

the cold domains of his heart

with my burning pain

Until next lifetime

it is a break up 

O mehboob-e-illahi !

THE CLOSET

Tentative fingers dive 

into the layers

entangled layers rather

of years together

This smooth cleavage-like

silk scarf from Brugge

A coarse cotton 

hand-loom in Bhutan

hairy, sweaty 

pulsating time

the pairs of watches

never worn together

never torn apart

heartbeat?

and I tug and pull out

the soul beneath flesh

smoke grey

my favorite one

from Istanbul

and it all tumbles out

as tears, memories

bruises and scars

I am a drowning closet

spilled on a cold floor.

Guest Appearance

some absences are conspicuous
looking for something lost
that was never yours

listening to baul songs
I understand nothing
other than the pang
snip,snip,snip

rust mark of a pin
on two papers
they must have been together
long back ago

valentine loneliness creeps
like unusually cold February
grief never fully thaws


The crater in my chest is back
so is the tumor in the spine
love keeps making
guest appearances

Bruises on the soul

On a swing

with gentle hands of time

he pushed her

wind in her hair

the lightness of being

called love

and then all of a sudden

he withdrew the hand

from her back

the swing

slowed down

She fell

on a hard fact

with a thud

winter is not 

a good season

for bruises

on the soul !

C - Cohen Leonard (Inspirational Writers) #AtoZBloggingChallenge2017

“Ah, grief makes us precise!” 

― Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers

Image Courtesy : Google Images

A book of longing
would have been perfect
with a book of losing

I am that
crack in everything
waiting for light.



Here is a link to all my current #AtoZChallenge Posts

Last Tryst

This city

witness of my

Anniversaries

of birth, death

and a million

in-betweens

sprinkled with

memories

of loss and love

of lessons

and joys

of aging

ripening, growing

wounds of evolution

and love bites

of knowing

hundreds of 

goodbyes

await me

in every

nook and cranny

My soul

whirls

in your circular heart

and sprinkles

itself generously

chanting

last birth

last tryst !

Read this poem in Hindi here : Aakhiri Mulaqat

Farewell Notes to Love

I touched love briefly

like an eclipse 

touches the moon

tides and journeys

same and yet

never the same again

you will be

a milestone

and my whole journey

home.

-------------------------------------------

the joys

can become sorrows

or lessons

or nothing

Love is a

versatile alchemist

--------------------------------------------

Longing is

not the worse

the worse

is 

hopeless longing

--------------------------------------------

sometimes healing

is impossible

or may take forever

sometimes

it just takes

a glance, a gaze.

-----------------------------------------

Farewells

are never easy

sometimes what we bid

goodbye, stays

what we carry

gets lost to life.

how much does your soul weigh?

soul weighs 21 grams

so says the research

how much

does grief weigh?

or loss

or the lump

in my throat

how much is 

the weight

of that moment

when 

one belle' ame  

meets another

how much

is that nakedness

in grams that aches

and loves

remembers

and understands?

how much

does your soul weigh?

Zen in life & death ( in the memory of my late father)

Z

 

 

Blogging from A to Z Challenge [April 2015]

 

  

We used to talk a lot

about death

and yet

your physical absence

is so heavy to bear

 

the suddenness with

which you disappeared

person-body-ashes-water-nothing

 

was that the last birthday gift

teaching me

"m-e-t-a-m-o-r-p-h-o-s-i-s"

one more time

 

I was always

your strong girl

in your version of me

I could take on

the world

on my own

 

Maybe I could

because you stood

by me

as a shield

 

Now you are

my arrow and my bow

my aims and my means

 

you were warmth

and now you are light

 

I read this poem

to myself

every night

 

and I know

you are watching

me do it right.

 

 

******************************************

 

A VERSE I READ OFTEN FOR MY DAD

 

 

 

       "Love never disappears for death is a non-event.

I have merely retired to the room next door.

You and I are the same; what we were for each other, we still are.

Speak to me as you always have, do not use a different tone, do not be sad.

Continue to laugh at what made us laugh.

Smile and think of me.

Life means what it has always meant.

The link is not severed.

Why should I be out of your soul if I am out of your sight?

I will wait for you, I am not here, but just on the other side of this path.

You see, all is well.”

- St. Augustine

Yell Silently ( in the memory of my late father)

Y

 

 

Blogging from A to Z Challenge [April 2015]

 

 

Today 

I will just say

don't just listen to

the loud voices

the evident noises

listen to

souls

that mourn alone

and yell silently

 

 



Letting Go (in the memory of my late father)

L

 

 

Blogging from A to Z Challenge [April 2015]

 

 

Every passing moment

is an act of letting go

yet the human heart

is made of absorbent clay and so

 

it holds back

a moment, a fragrance

a look or a word

though

 

even in the pain

of saying final adieu

and letting a loved one go

 

we are rehearsing

our own going

in the incessant

cosmic flow.

 



OASIS

I scrub the lines on my forehead
on the Sufi's threshold
the lines of my palm burn
on the marble floor
destiny flows out

Rumi, Hafiz stand by
love is an inscription
embossed on a skin
by a pair of lips

like day and night
it grows, wanes,changes
never ceases
sometimes a wound
sometimes a weapon

I am weary of
this beating in the chest
Can the dead stop pretending to be alive?

you have knit all the wisdom
about women and men
about love and loss
in your words
my questions roam in your anecdotes
looking for an answer

"ISHQ" travels miles and miles
of my arteries and veins
to reach nowhere

and sometimes peeps out from
the corner of my eye
to blur my vision of the world

I am a sand dune
make,unmake
scatter, collect
I once loved an oasis.

no word...

When I had first met her I had thought how can someone so short- statured have such a huge personality.Her broad smile,her impeccable control on language and her colourful shiffon sarees ,all added to the charm.Whether you listened to it on AIR ,where she worked,or just casually chatting with a neighbour,her voice was the kind you don't forget easily. Yesterday I met her again after almost a decade.She is someone else .The glow and the charm are gone,so is the memorable voice.She lost her only son a few weeks ago and since then a smile, a hug or a kind word evoke no response.As she sat there at the doctor's clinic with her husband,staring into nothingness,I hugged her tight,hid a tear and turned away.I realised why there is no word in any language for a parent who loses a child.