You and Me.

I fall a little in love with everyone I meet
I fall in love with everything that humanity is and can be
The imperfections and rounded edges draw me in
I want to know your story
Will you tell me?
Will you tell me why you hate that Beatles song
Or why peanut butter with bread is just so wrong .
Will you tell me of your biggest dreams and all that made you.

Of the books you took to bed 

The days when too many thoughts filled your head

Of the time you held your brother’s finger and followed him around
The times the bully put you down

I fall a little in love with everyone I meet
Someone that hands me a piece of their soul 

Trusting me to keep it

I'm mind blown

You trust me? To keep it.

So safely tucked away

All the things you say

Of the times you had a broken bone
The pages of your diary that you think are just a drone

Of the love you thought was yours 

Are just a few
Of the stories I want to hear

From you

I fall in love a little with everyone I meet 

When you tell me 

Of the day you cried yourself to sleep

When you realized that there is only so much you can do

That the burden of privilege is not yours alone

That we are all just turning into each other's clones

When the truth was too much to take
When choices took the name of mistakes

And then when you say, but I moved passed it

I fall in love with you a little. 

It overwhelms me how easy it is to love

To trust and be trusted too

That we are not alone

believe me, you

That all we are looking for is 

a connection

Some common ground to anchor on

To build a bridge

To catch a train

To something, to someone
Who is never too far away

All we need is to not feel so alone

So I look,

I look for stories. I look for people with their hearts on their sleeve.
Because I fall in love a little with everyone I meet.

I want to know your story.

Will you tell me?

Cause I have them too.

Not so different me and you.

Letter to "The One"

Hello You, 

I've sat with a pen in my hand writing this letter to you on so many occasions that I almost don't remember what I want to say anymore. I thought I had found you on more than one instance. All the signs were there the violins, the wind in my hair and the sudden pull of it all leading me to an illusion I thought was you. We need to work on the signs this time. Let's have a code word, like when you run into me you say that magical word or perhaps break into a Yo Yo Honey Singh song so that this time, I make no mistake. I know you are somewhere making some mistakes of your own, singing songs, buying flowers, having beer with a girl I will come to hate for breaking your heart. Think you are in love, don't you? Hah, bubble. You need it perhaps, to be able to find me. Let's call her Cruella, okay fine Cranberry? This Cranberry that you are with is going to turn pretty sour very soon. See what I did there?

You are from somewhere in the mountains aren't you? Don't get me wrong, I love the sea. But I hope to be able to share it with you without you knowing any of it. Like I could tell the story in any way I liked and it would be your truth. I would miss the feeling of standing on firm ground, solid and safe but the snow melting under your feet in an attempt to make you trip doesn't sound as scary with you around. I could learn to love it and besides how would I miss the sea, I'd always have your eyes with me. I imagine you to be everything I am not or everything I am but just so different.

I'm still figuring life out, and in all probability will still be figuring it out when I meet you. Don't be afraid, I dream new dreams everyday and I hope you can live them with me. Sometimes they end up crushed but mostly unfold into something magical like it was the final piece of the puzzle all along only till the next one came by. I hope you like music, the kind that lifts your soul - the one with words or the one which needs none at all. And I really hope that you can play some of your own for me, and if you can't I promise to show you my futile attempts at mastering the guitar. I promise to laugh at all your silly jokes and learn to smile at your mistakes. I could be impatient and impulsive and you might think Cranberry was better but I promise to love you with all I have and sometimes more.  And I hope I hear you say at the end of each day that it couldn't be better.

I don't know how I'll finally meet you. Maybe at a bookstore when you bend over to pick the book I dropped. Or maybe at a coffee shop where I sat waiting for someone who never turned up. In the midst of the sea of pretentious marriage profiles - yours would say just the right things. At the beach while I made a sandcastle that you made fun off and showed me how it's done so arrogantly. At a party where you couldn't stop dancing and I could not stop looking at you. Or maybe I've walked past you so many times that destiny is tired of its own cruelty but the stars were just not aligned yet.

I think I could do without you for a while but I would like to know of your existence. It would be comforting to know my soulmate was not hit by a car or something before I could even meet him. But you are "THE ONE" so I'm sure a grand entrance is in order, it would be a story we would repeat several times to the same people at dinners and anniversary parties. No pressure, I was just sharing. I don't know what you look like and I don't know what you sound like but I know your smile reaches your eyes. That your voice is going to be the only thing that can put me to sleep on a bad day and I know that once I've known you I wouldn't need to know anyone else. I would have added a picture but I wouldn't want some creep seeing it lest it lands in the wrong place. Besides you wouldn't need it, I'm sure you'll be able to tell its me with your eyes closed.

So here it is my message in a bottle that I am going to fling into the universe and hope it hits you on the head and you can come find me. But I hope against hope more than anything that I haven't missed you already.

Love,

Me

This Time

This time I grew up.

Didn't delete a single picture or message,

Didn't burn down memories, Didn't cloud my mind.

This time I didn't cry.
But next time around, I'll be ruthless.
I'll judge you for your queer smile.
I'll mock your accent and stare at your scars
I'll stop to breathe before I let your scent into my lungs
This time I'll not make you my comfort. 

I won't let you become the essence of my being 

I won't let you touch my soul

No, not this time

Because this time I won't love you.

As is amply clear, I'm trying to write more and more poetry. I have been a regular at The Poetry Club, Mumbai for the past year and its unbelievable. So if you are in Mumbai and would like to read out your poems in the midst of fellow poets write to them at thepoetryclubmumbai@gmail.com

Forty Two

So, what is the point of it all anyway?

Life, universe and everything?

Why do I wake up each day and go to work

Tired even before I'm started.

Fixated on goals I don't remember setting

Working for people I don't like

Why? Such an earthling question to ask.

Why?

When all I want to do is write.

I want to write about honey filled buttercups     

And sun kissed peaches   

Of curly hair that just won’t be tamed 

About kindled spirits and broken dreams

I want to write about values and cultural extremes

I want to write about frail eyes but strong hopes

And about sunlight that creeps in from between thin leaves

About raindrops that tap on my window, hoping to be let in

About myths and prophecies 

And about rivers that always meet the vast seas

But all I do is shake my pillow violently each morning.

Hoping that the dreams I lost that night would tumble out

So I read, about others that let go.

In between scandals and violence

Are dreams coming true, silently breeding hope

Like the wind knocking on your heart for a chance to blow away misery.

Like living each day with the wonderment of the child 
that saw his first magic trick

And there are those many pages later

In between real estate and oddly shaped classifieds

A lost soul, a mourning, a life

With incomplete dreams? Perhaps

Or maybe a lifelong of happiness and contentment

And here I am at an age of misconstrued ideas and confused ambitions

At crossroads that lead nowhere or everywhere.

And I hear myself whisper "It's always a choice."

(For those who didn't get the reference in the title. Douglas Adams in his book the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, writes about a computer called Deep Thought that takes 7 million years to find the answer to Life, Universe and Everything and the answer is 42. So yeah, this is my Life Universe and Everything poem or something like that.)

Startling Clarity

Because when you stumbled into my life

My heart sighed so deeply and said "What took you so long?"

In a moment of startling clarity I knew. 

I live for these moments. 

I wait for them. 

Almost grabbing in the darkness of a deliciously ambiguous life. 

I search for an absolute in the otherwise blurry lines.

In a time when I thought love was something I didn't want anymore. 

Love I didn't deserve. Love I didn't receive. Love that didn't make it. 

You gave it a new meaning. 

And suddenly all those love songs,

The heart breaking movies and everything I've ever written 

Were all about you. 

I fell in love. Again. And again. 

Everyday like it was new. 

Like everyday was a fresh start. 

Everyday the Sun would come back brighter and tell me that Love was on its way.

Love told me that the distance was all in my head.

That you lay beside me, every time I turned in my sleep

And you held me tight each morning,

Not wanting me to leave

That we were out on the street all night, 

Your hand in mine.

We were like clockwork

Like a sky burst into light 

From a million shooting stars all at once

Like the inside of my stomach that flipped

Every time I heard your voice

Like the rush of a waterslide

You made me want to come up and breathe. Everyday.

We were like two parts of the same soul

Like a dancer's feet, in sync and graceful

It all still comes back to me in flashes

So vivid and real, I almost touch you

in my dreams only to be hit so hard with reality.

But repetition manifests reality.
I remember repeating your name again and again till it became my truth.
Smiling each time I said it like the counts of prayer beads
This whole beautiful person was mine with his rough edges, sharp bends.
And tiny scars that lined his soul like little thorns on desert trees.
For protection more often than attack.
This whole person was mine to hold and comfort with the palms of my hands and my heart to wrap around him during the passing storm.
I've kissed you too many times to imagine your lips on mine even when we are miles away
Felt your warmth reach my heart enough times to know how cold it can get in there
Seen you become me and me become you so many times that I can no longer tell the difference between us

We were fighting the world and we had no honour as armour or pride as knives

Just love.
Just love? They laughed so loud that I couldn't hear you say 'whatever it takes'
I couldn't hear behind the screams of hate, the love you kept so well hidden

We prayed to the same Gods
Breathed the same air,
Laughed at the same jokes,
Spoke the same words and yet, 
Yet, we couldn't be together

Because in the fight with the world

The world always wins.

Untitled.

It's important for me at this point in my life, to get back to writing. It gave meaning to my life before, a whole new meaning a whole new world. And I want that back. I want this space of my own, to dissolve into. So I am unearthing the million drafts I didn't complete. The stories I wanted to write that I didn't put down and each little thought I ever wanted to see in writing.

For the longest time 

You were the only woman in his life

For the longest time he's observed you 

Take care of the nest so meticulously each day

You do it so effortlessly

I want you to know that each time 

He says "You're just like my mother'

I feel a sense of pride

I wasn't raised in a mansion

Or fed with a silver spoon
I wasn't brought up to think money is everything
Because only fools believe that’s true
I wasn't raised to live out my parents dream
But to proudly dream my own
I wasn't raised to walk the popular path
But to strongly pave my own
I wasn't raised with material things
But something great indeed
I was raised with love
And love is all I need

He's taught me that each day is a new beginning

And mistakes are only pebbles in the way of life

He's taught me that love is everlasting

He's taught me that anything was possible

If I only believed 

He shows me that I could have everything

If I only dreamed

He's watched me grow up and stay young all at once

He tells me of you 

All the little things

What makes you happy and what

drives you mad

but most importantly he tells me its you whose made him a man

And I want to say thank you for bringing him to the world

Mother, thank you for giving me what is mine.

Epiphany.

Customs. Traditions. Ceremonies. Dressing up and feeling festive. I love India for the sheer spirit of celebration in the smallest of things. The uncles and aunties of the world provide all the amusement the world needs, but whenever I go for any ceremony I want to know the reason behind it and inevitably everything has a solid (so, they think) reason or story behind it. 

For instance in my family on the 11th Day after the baby is born we do a little puja at home. Usually the mother's maiden house because that is where she usually stays when its closer to delivery and for a few months after that. You know practicing with nets before going into the field all by herself. So in this little event we must set a large scroll of paper and a pen and pray to the Gods of Destiny to come and write the baby's story. And then you leave Him to it alone. It is said that on that day the whole life of that baby is planned, it just got written. Fate sealed. Life decided. Bole toh done done london. Sounds absurd to the 21st century person, those that don't even believe in God or don't know which of the million to believe in. But think about it, how beautiful it sounds. If all of us, each one of us. Accepted this, that our lives are written, by a God who had our best interests at heart and spared those moments from His precious schedule to write your destiny. We must at least put up a good show, right?

All the good, the bad and the ugly. Its all there. Decided and you may fret and fight or flight but there is nothing you can do to change that. I love my God its a person I talk to like a friend. Its a part of me, My God. Its like we have a telephone line set up inside with full talk time always. Mother Mary is my guardian angel (I am a Gujarati), but Mother Mary is my God. My belief in the goodness of the world is because of Her. I have always everything without asking. When I am with Her I forget what I went for in the first place. And mumble something like "Do what is right for me" before I leave. She made sure I was happy, abundantly happy. But I lost my faith for a while, I fought, begged for what I wanted. I was being selfish. But she just smiled because a love like that doesn't let you go it holds your hand tighter still and she just said "But Darling - What is for you, will not pass you by."

Home.

What is home to you?

Or you?

Is it the four walls you return to each night?

Or the edge of that cliff where you sit for hours 

watching the sky change its color
Or is it your dreams?
where you get away from the truth of reality
Is it your school?
where you return to every now and then if only to watch
the kids and the commotion
or perhaps the familiarity of the peeling paint of the classroom walls
Is it that old house where you once lived?
The one with teak wood doors, and French windows that went all the way down
or is it the park where you fell and fell again 

only to break into peals of laughter in the next second

Home? 

Is it the movies you spend hours watching?

The happy or the sappy, the teenage romance and the political drama
Is it the book you picked up from the second hand bookstore?
The one you have read around 18 and a half times since
Is it the song of your favourite band? 

The one which talks of love and hate
Or is the wine you kiss with your lips before you crash into your pillow.

Must be the characters of your favourite tv shows.

The ones who are just like you or ones you want to be like.

Home? Is it your pet, the bundle of joy that leaps at you 

each time you walk through the door  

Or is it your best friend who hugs you tight every time your heart aches

Must be your mother, she listens so intently to everything you share

Or the lover in whose arms time just passes you by

Must be the neighbor next door who lends you his books

and sometimes hears you read them on his perch

Home is squishy happiness, home is the melancholic pain

Home is the outcome of years of comfort 

Or the stranger's pat in the time of need

Home is being immersed in the sea of the world 

and yet staying afloat to find yourself

For me Home, is the sound of your voice,

the husk at the end of the line. 

It is the poetry I begin to write but becomes a letter to you

Home is the warmth of your arms 

that reaches me from miles away

Its the sound of your laughter

Its the smell of your shirt that I sleep in

Its the gasp of air I fight for 

Each time you say "I love you"

Because home is you.

Goodbyes.

Just something I've been thinking about off late; 

You know that last moment. That one day after which you'll never see someone again, even if only from a distance. That person who was probably inconsequential to your life. Or maybe someone who was the center of it, at some point. Your friend from the library you just didn't speak to again. The best friend whose eye you can't meet anymore. The boy with those blue eyes that you'll never forget. And the girl who stood up for you when you forgot your lines on stage. 

In that moment followed by an all consuming urge to go and give them a hug you wish to just let go. Of inhibitions, of the hate and of the misunderstanding. That moment when everything in the past seems like a pointless waste of emotion. Isn't this exactly why most breakups don't happen until the point where they are totally unavoidable? The thought of never. Never again, is scary. You don't want to know what might happen if you just cut the cords, so you stick with it instead of following your sunshine. You don't want to take that chance.

You want to make that move. Make amends because you read those stories about how telling someone you love them is so important, you never know when.

So you go rather awkwardly with a speech in your head and a slow stride walk to them. Scared, of humiliation? That maybe it is just you and not them. But all it takes is 20 seconds of courage. All anything ever takes is 20 seconds of courage.

You make that speech; "You know what? I don't want to be saying 10, 15, 20 years from now. You know my best friend from 12th grade, wonder what she is upto. I want to know."

Goodbyes have a way of bringing people closer.

Mumbai.

A recent forward I received about Mumbai, got me thinking how much I really love this city.

Being a Mumbaikar is way beyond all the cliques listed in the message and the city is much more than meets the eye. Someone who hasn't lived here would never understand .  

Mumbai. Only the sound of it sends tingles down my spine, like the name of an ex-lover. The summer romance you will never forget. People complain here all the time, about the traffic, the pot-holes, the rains, the pollution and the fast life. And these are the things I love most, these are the things that make this magical city a little imperfect and so absolutely perfect. My ever changing breathtaking city. It teaches you a lot, like a strict parent. It teaches you that dreams don't always come true, it teaches you that hearts break, it teaches you that stardom is only but an illusion and it teaches you that the waves will break your sandcastle once in a while but you need to keep trying and protect it. Keep trying one more time, differently. 

Mumbai is not a place its a spirit.

The city that never sleeps, she is not entirely flawless. Yes I said "She" only a woman can woo like this city does.  I go to marine drive I know those rocks , the water  they'll be here for me always just so that I can look at them and feel their arms around me. People strive all their lives to make a mark be able to afford a life here. They make ends meet, live in rented apartments with ten other people. Struggle. I didn't have to. I was born here, lucky? But lovers don't just meet somewhere they are in each other all along. I was meant to be here. This city keeps you connected, in the middle of all the buzz, you can be the life of anything here. And being a Mumbaikar is special. 

Mumbai is the little things. Mumbai is the unexpected kindness from a stranger. Mumbai is the loving ear from your train friends. Mumbai is the random drive on the Sea Link. Mumbai is feeding the pigeons at Gateway of India. Mumbai is never running out of coffee shops. Mumbai is the man who selflessly stands at Juhu circle everyday with a sign that says "Apne Dharm par Chalo, Sabse Pyaar Karo". Mumbai is the quaint bookshops in the beautiful heritage buildings of town. Mumbai is the drunk nights that you will never regret. Mumbai is the stories you heard from the rickshaw driver. Mumbai is the helping hand after every setback. Mumbai is the resilience, not because we are strong but we have no choice. 

Mumbai is the safety you feel even at the latest hour on the streets. Mumbai is the cricket you play in the gullies. Mumbai is the smile that the first rains bring. Its the people that still so rebelliously but with much affection still call it Bombay. Its the same old sites which people visit with renewed enthusiasm each time. To be a part of this ethos of life you won't have to try, it will engulf you and you won't want to come out. Mumbai accepts everyone, with non-judgmental eyes and an open mind. Its the art that resides in each part of the city, the creativity that brims the already full cup and the zeal to excel that lives in every child's heart. 

Mumbai is the friendships, the romance, the laughter. The life. 

Mumbai is home and will always be. Wander I must but home is where I'll always come back. 

One of the best things about this city.. is the smell of the different air. You can smell it before you see or hear anything of the place. It's the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the Island City. That smell: the worst good smell in the world, above all things- that welcomes me and tells me I've come home

- Shantaram, Gregory Roberts

Believe you.

You say you love me, but wait

I'm quite the pessimist at times

Jumping to the worst possible conclusions with assumptions on my mind

You say you love me but wait

Till you see that I don't always wear makeup and my eyes don't always shine

That I'm clumsy and messy,

I drop things a lot 

You say you love me but wait 

I'm too much of a drama queen, and that arguments will usually lead to tears 

That I get hurt too soon and frown

And I always don an invisible crown

You say you love me but wait 

Till you know that lizards creep me out

And I expect you save me from them like your life depends on it

Because in that moment I almost think mine does.

 

You say you love me but wait 

I don't share my food 

But I'm going to reach out for yours

You say you love me but wait

I think from my heart more often than my mind

And I'm usually mistaken but I do it wrong each time

You say you love me but wait

I'm the girl that follows an idealistic cause

My friends are books and I still believe in Santa Claus

You say you love me but just wait

I play for keeps and love without restrain

And I'll follow you whenever you need me to

But I'll get back on the last train.

You say you love me but wait

I have a fake tooth and real scars

from the times I used to go in search of the stars 

You say you love me but wait 

I love words and the light that enters through the leaves

And the sound of whistling trees 

You say you love me but wait

I hug with warmth unmatched

I must say I'm quite a catch

When you learn to love every bit of me

The heartbreaks. The let downs. The cracks in the wall.

All creating a little space that you can enter from

You say you love me but wait

I smile at sunshine while others complain

And sometimes I even chase butterflies.

You say you love me but wait

There is a part of me that I hide at all times

But I'll give that to you too if you just try

You say you love me but wait 

I'm barely done

But you say you love me and I want to believe you.