cenotaph

I wonder if it is fair enough,
To lose out on yourself, just because of things done by a different person..
Specially when you love them dearly...

Is it really fair?

the boy with the goatee

I am the face to you..
The color to your dark,

The noise to your quiet
The line in your mark.

Happy Puja

It wasn't like any other morning, and yet was one.
It seemed like it would rain, and it did too. big droplets. I did not get wet. I only heard of it.
And then there was an un-welcome warmth in the air. Not that of Pujo or Navaratri.
That had begun since Sunday. And its again the year... I am not going back home.
I made plans here.
I will pray for myself, for its going to be tough for me when I get back.
And for my Ma. She's sick.
Baba, for he has to bear all of it.
And the kiddo in my life... Its going to be her first Boards.
There's also this guy. And all my friends, whom I care about.

I don't know if praying shows being orthodox, but I like to do it. Asking for things for others too, besides yourself.
That's the beauty. And Pujo teaches you fun, along with prayers.

Somewhere hidden is the belief. On you, her, him.....

the dark knight

You are afraid. Of the dark. Loneliness.
I come to you,
I don't know if its light for you. But its surely for me.

unfinished near the finishing line

A newer story...
When things go perfect. Like in a fairy tale. And i keep on singing the jig all day long.
Just that I am not in a dress, neither you in a grey t-shirt.
We laugh, cry, break, get together.
You and I, in this beautiful world. I forgot else.

sun kissed

Its almost home. When it smells like that. Like you.
The sheets all around, and books with scribbles. The legs aching.
With shoe laces yet to be tied.You seem like a kid.
And I wait for sunshine to come, to shine on dew drops.
I hold it then, slowly let it crawl on your feet.
And then you wake me up.
Your lips touching the sun.
And then mine.