Chance

thank you for the ride.
it's now time
for both of us
to fall out of love again. 

happy birthday to the Lich King

"you only know you love her,
when you let her go."

please,
hold my hand, stay close by.
there is a storm coming,
in five days and counting,
and i'm afraid
it will burn right through my tears.

every day that goes by,
i gather my love for you
and offer it as sacrifice
to the lord of the sun,
so he may always keep you warm.

daughters like me

we don't get no respect,
daughters like me.
we have boys go to sleep beside us,
and wake up as men in the morning,
demanding breakfast and pinning us down,
against the dressing table
demanding that escaped kiss.

we don't get no respect
daughters like me,
who chose to leave everything behind
and follow where love leads,
just like you taught us when we were little girls,
only to have you reprimand us
when we return home broken-hearted
that we should have used our heads instead.

we don't get no respect,
daughters like me.

missed calls

as i climb the sixteen stairs
to your home tucked away in the darkness,
i am overcome with a tingling weariness,
known only to a traveller
who is actually tired of the journey,
and looks forward to his destination.

each step is like a complaining mother-in-law,
unable to choose between her son's happiness,
and her jealous love for him.
each step complains and insults me,
scolds me for giving up and becoming a whore
to the unreasonable demands of my heart.
each step becomes a dark forest
that one gets lost in irrevocably,
while still believing that there is light on the other side.

when i reach your threshold,
and the door opens with a mighty swing,
my halo comes crashing down,
breaks into a million pieces
gets wiped off on your cotton doormat,
and is left outside while i step across
naked and without expectation,
only a remote desperate longing
that the darkness will hide my shame,
and swallow my smile
as i melt away in your arms.

to hell with love
when we know that all we really need
is a warm bed to fight away the darkness.

when morning comes, as i dress away from your prying eyes,
i put my halo back on, as easily as i slip my feet into flat chappals,
and go down the stairs to conquer my demons.

the stairs are always quiet when i go down,
they laugh discreetly at my rumpled hair.
they can't see the halo on my head,
they only know the guilt of my quick steps,
desperately running away from you,
and unreasonably wishing you will hold me back.

tomorrow, if tomorrow comes.

"tumhein dillagi bhool jani padegi,

mohabbat ke rahon mein aa kar toh dekho.

tadapne pe mere na phir tum hasoge,

kabhi dil kisi se laga toh dekho"

with every day that goes by,

i learn something new

about distance and love. 

i know how far away i must stand

so that your fist doesn't crunch against my jaw

when flung with full force.

i know how far away i must park

from your office 

so your colleagues think a driver picks you up.

i know how far away from you i must sleep,

so i don't accidently caress your feet with mine,

and awake you from your recurrent dreams. 

it must be a nice feeling

knowing 

that someone who loves you

is always close by. 

close enough to be summoned with a hint of a smile,

but far enough to have no expectations of you. 

diwali bonus

two ponytails, tied together with black rubberbands, 

wrapped in little black ribbons,

looped together and knotted tightly

so they do not unravel before the last bell rings. 

small feet in shining black shoes, 

neat pinafores ironed with heavy presses,

and tight collars held together

with the school-captain tie and badge. 

small hands given willingly to protective palms

with miniature school bags hooked on sunburnt shoulders,

to cross the road on the black-and-white stripes

and get across to the other side

where the world lies. 

cold steel railings at the airport

that separate those who left from the ones who stayed,

smiling eyes welcoming extra baggage, grown-up shoulder-length hair, 

never tied together, showing off modern brown-coloured hues,

and fringes that fall with style to the left or the right.

old palms that grab baggage trolleys instead of fair nailpainted hands. 

fathers welcome their daughters back in to their homes,

with sad i-told-you-so smiles,

and hurried whispers to responsible brothers

about what is going to happen now.

kiss me

on my hand,
kiss my arm and my shoulder,
kiss the curve of my neck,
the hollow of my back,
and the wave of my hip.

kiss me quickly,
before we remind ourselves
that we are only friends. 

wrong timing

for now and forever,

innocence shall always be laughed at. 

when i'm standing at my kitchen counter,

wondering if the onions are sliced too big,

and the knife in my hand

mocks the blood running through my veins,

i shall remember the heat of your embrace

which betrayed the innocence of your lies.

you and i, 

we are tied together

like the words of the alphabet.

incredibly familiar

yet impossible to recite backwards. 

i write the same poem over and over again

unfortunately, 

i will always love you. 

noir

there was once a woman
so lonely,
she had forgotten the sound
of her doorbell.

when
finally
one day
someone rang,

she didn't answer.

No hugs and no goodbyes

It is a strange thing, love. 

When you expect nothing, 

nothing will satisfy.

I would rather 

put you on a pedestal

and be disappointed

that you never look down. 

last attempt

take my hand. 

let 

us

be

sad

together. 

engagement

the wives
of all the men i know
are jealous.

of my empty appartment, my apathetic cat,
the double bedsheets folded in two,
a half-empty shoe cupboard,
my lonely toothbrush,
the quarter cup measure of rice,
the eerily quiet sunday mornings
and the two potatoes a week instead of a dozen.

how do i explain to them,
what jealousy is?

don't come home

only love
can make you feel
homesick
for a place
that was never home.

non-returnable

the broken promises of love
have taught me to hug a pillow
and hold my own hand
when i sleep at night.

but never mind,
it is a new kind of loneliness
waiting to be explored.