If I could, I would - II

Click here to read the Part - 1


"You are early today. "

He says, not exactly meaning it to be a question.

It takes all my will power in that split second, to stop myself from replying with a "It’s none of your business, is it?"

I can almost see Ma shaking her head in disapproval, annoyed to see her daughter acting so rudely.
Instead, I go on auto-pilot. My eyes meet his, I smile, nod and then, I turn back towards the road, hoping that he will get the message.

When did I become like this?

Why have I become so cynical that every unnecessary conversation seems to be a direct path to confrontations?

Having to draw a boundary so that no stranger becomes a part of the routine.

No saying "Hi" every day. No talking about weather. And certainly no explaining if and why I am early on any day. The freedom of walking away from people and relationships.

There is disappointed idealist behind every cynic, they say.

Why do I run away from even the slightest hint of a bond?

It has been ages, yet, I can still hear someone say - "when was the last time a stranger broke your heart"
Strangers indeed don’t break your heart, as long as they stay strangers. He wasn’t a stranger. And see where I am today. I wait, I will for the phone in my pocket to ring.

I wish, I pray that he would call. Just to hear that voice again. Even though ...

Have you ever had your heart broken by someone you can’t bring yourself to hate? Even when they scar you for life? make you wary of everything you get attached to?

Have you ever loved someone so much, that all you can remember is the rhythm of their heart beating as they hold you in their arms.

The actual feeling of their being? Being able to just close your eyes and trace them with your fingers? Even when years have gone since you sat next to them...

Why is it that we can’t bring ourselves to stop loving someone even when we hate them for showing us exactly how vulnerable we are, we were.

Some say love needs sacrifice. Sacrificing our wish for someone else’s.

But is there anything that can be termed as sacrifice?

All we make are choices. Sometimes we like to sugar-coat them, calling it a sacrifice.

If I am ready to give my life for someone, then obviously I would rather have them living than myself. How can it be termed a sacrifice?


You are willing to stay hungry to feed your child, because that makes you happier.

A soldier dies for his country, because his honor is dearer to him.

We are selfish to our cores.

We always do what we ultimately want to do.

Breaking someone’s heart, or getting our broken.

If I was writing a story, I would make myself shed a silent tear. But then, crying is so damn tough. Blessedly, the skies open up and rain comes lashing. I hear people scrambling to get under the meagre shades.

I stay put, feeling the heavenly droplets washing away the death off me. Death of a part that will always be mine, even when it starts festering

Still wishing for the phone to ring with that familiar tune.

Still wishing I could call.

But then, if I could, I would...



To be continued ... soon... or may be not...
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©2010 by Chhaya. All Rights Reserved

PS: kindly read this just a piece of writing. Nothing personal about this one :)... and yes, the image is googled.

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The Nightmare

One more day..
One more smile..
I live in that place, between
dawn and the daybreak.
Trying desperately,
to stall the time.
Stolen moments..
too fragile for dreams.
Wrapped in your arms,
watching you sleep

Shy, the rain giggles,
caressed by
the lovelorn wind.
I blush, watching
the lines of your face..
and the smile on your lips.
Your heartbeats,
talking to my fingertips.

Shadows rustle,
monsters insane.
Pulling me away,
from you yet again.
I close my eyes,
too scared to scream.
And then I feel you,
whispering so softly -
“Hush my baby,
it’s just a bad dream”

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

This is my 25th poem on this blog (counting the haiku efforts as 1 poem). I was going to post a different one, but then thought that the silver jubilee thing shouldn’t be too dark. Thank you everyone, for being such good friends... This one is for you all...

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Take My Breath Away

Okay.. so my last poem was a dud ... agreed. The story behind it is – someone reminded me of the fact that I was only writing about three topics..... so, I tried writing about the things I don’t exactly feel.. hence the disaster.

Psst Psst...what I am trying to say is – Blame Him! Not Me!

Atonement was close to my heart but The Glass Window was a faked pain. I guess that is even worse than faked pleasure.

Life or my lifestyle has never stopped me from getting soaked in the rain or getting my feet dirty. Playing with kids or sing along a corny Bryan Adams song like ‘Let’s make a night to remember’ ... I actually do every mad thing that comes in my mind. That includes talking to my pet fish and going out for ice-cream at midnight. (I guess it explains my insanely accident prone nature, but more about that later)

Anyways.. so, a few days back, I was in my ‘cocoon’ mood. You know, the days when you just don’t wanna talk to nobody (pardon my double-negative.. sometimes wrong things make the most sense). It hadn’t rained for more than a week. The evening was slightly lost in the heat of the day.

Was home alone so I did what I do when such an evening arrives. Made a big mug of coffee and then sat by the window. My building is in this huge residential complex with gardens and pools. There is a playground right in front and I could watch the kids playing. Everyone had a hankie tied to his face, what with the swine flu scare.

The coffee was awesome.. first two teaspoons of the newly opened Coffee jar without milk or sugar to corrupt it. Just pure tantalizing smell of individuality. Have you ever wondered how the Ad agencies target families with tea and individuals with coffee??
Hmmm.. heck.. I think too much..

So what happened was – the rain came lashing down on the parched earth and the air was completely fragrant with the smell of first rain.. second time in one Monsoon .. whoa!! .... My heart went - 'thud' and I was thrown back into my childhood.

Good smell has always been the biggest turn on for me after thunders and storms. May be it is because we tag those forgotten memories with them. I cant smell Old Spice aftershave without my mind going to my Dad.. Freshly made Roti (Indian bread) never fails to remind me of Mom.. Smell of coffee and new book go together reminding me of every moment alone...

Funny, the way smells instantly bring back memories.. some pleasant, some unpleasant.. some that you don’t even wanna acknowledge


Love
Chhaya

PS: the image is obviously googled

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The Glass Window

Children of the street
dance in the first rain,
Screaming with delight.
Barefoot and half naked.
Surrounded with the comfort,
of money and fame..
I steal greedy glances through
the impersonal window frame.

Safety of Grandma’s arms and
the beauty of her weathered face -
I am trying to remember,
fighting hard to forget.
Trapped in the addictive -
golden coffin of success,
I live my death
in tiny instalments.


© Chhaya
I forbid any comparison between Slumdog Millionaire and this poem... :

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Part II - Fact, Fiction...

New Delhi, evening of a random day in the month of August, a few years back

What gets you through a day? Work? Or the wait for the moment when you will be let off to go home to someone who would be waiting for you? Or someone you would wait for.

Have you ever waited for the work hours to be over just so that you can enjoy the time it takes you to reach the place you sleep at?

I must leave. Those crowded buses seem to be the place to find the perfect solitude. I look out of the glass window. The sky is getting dark. It’s not my usual time to leave… but what the heck…

The same road looks unfamiliar in the twilight. As unfamiliar as this city, even after years. The tiny cell-phone sits snugly in my back pocket.

Have you ever wondered how easy it is to talk to someone if you want to? But what do you do when all you want to share is the silence? Have you ever waited for someone to call so that you don’t look like someone who is ‘desperate’? Is it the Ego that stops you?

Or is it self-defence?

Have you ever longed to be with someone in this twilight – the time when the boundaries of the harsh day and the tranquil night are blurred? Have you ever felt your heart bursting with the desire to be with the one… just walking together on the pavement… sitting together – without having to talk?

To hold.. to be held… to hear the heartbeats …. to be able to feel?

Have you ever met someone like that? Does it hurt when you realize that they never belonged to you?

Do lies hurt you too?
Why do they hurt so bad?

Is it the shame of being a fool? Or is it the fact that you fell for your own fantasies?

Do we only see what we want to see?

Does it hurt when someone loves you so madly that they are ready to lie.. to keep you close…. but not enough to trust you with the truth?

What do you do when you stumble upon it? Do you confront? Or do you feel too scared… scared of breaking the bond that has become your life?

Do you live those lies? Do you pretend that nothing has changed? Do you start feeling guilty that you found what was supposed to be hidden forever?

Why is "Soulmate" a word with a red worm underneath it? Yeah, I am still thinking about it... it’s not even a word!!!! I feel like laughing till I get tears in my eyes.

If only I could get tears in my eyes.

Life and Love are the Four Letter Words .. created by God himself..

I smirk.

Walking to the bus stop was like a therapy.. but why do I wish that the guy was here? Yes, the same guy who takes the bus with me in the morning, well... he doesn’t return with me.

I feel so tired.. Maybe I will just sit on the steel bench.. I love them... Steel – my favourite. More dear than gold! Hah.. Stainless steel… do you know why it’s called stainless? Well, some other day.. just know that it’s “stain less” and not “stain proof” … I smile to myself.

Did I just feel a breeze on my face? Yes I did. It’s getting stronger. Clouds!

Ahhhh. Let me just untie my hair… let me ‘feel the wind in my hair’ as they say it. Let it fall on my face.

what a used to death cliché!

No, I won’t try to tuck it behind my ears like I always do. Most people compliment me for my long hair.. then why do I try to hide it? Why do I keep it tied up? What am I scared of?

The bus is here….
Should I catch it?

Let it go… another one will come.. let me just sit here…

Have you ever been lost, looking at something that does not exist. just sitting somewhere, your eyes unfocused, your mind in a trance..? Thinking about something that never was… something make-believe …

Lies… all lies….

I feel someone’s presence before I turn my head to find that he is sitting right next to me. His face is still disturbed but he manages to give me a smile.

This is the first time that I notice that he smells great.
And this is the first time that I smile back…

Click here to read the first part

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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