Half Half

The overjoyous heart 

poises itself as a tear. 

The excitement in my veins 

tingles in my fingers. 

Legs ready to run 

towards you.

Arms ready to embrace 

your intimidating mind.

The feelings outrun 

the confines of language.

Logic spills over from 

the vessel of reasoning. 

Lips want to say much 

more than needed but 

the words fizzle out. 

I am so overwhelmed 

by your presence here-

I pant in a language only 

you understand but 

Slip away in the one 

I fail to express.

My pulse becomes

an impatient translator,

beating against the ribs

for a clearer sentence.

My eyes rehearse

confessions in silence,

hoping you will read

what my tongue cannot risk.

The air between us

grows dense with 

everything unsaid-

Half-fluent in courage,

Half-exiled in awe.

I stand here carrying 

a storm in a cup-

If I step closer,

I might dissolve.

If I stay still,

I might explode.

Final Act of Love

As a final act of love,

I've learned saying 

Your name without 

Making an ounce of 

sound.

I've learned to deal with 

The emptiness without 

The need to fill it up.

And to love without 

Expressing it,

To yearn without the

Need to show it.

To remember without 

Collapsing--

The art of conversing 

Without the need for 

Reciprocation-

Silence is new language,

And healing is just

Accomodating wounds.

You're not longer a

Scar, just a space

I like to carry.

And perhaps that's 

What love becomes 

When it outlives the

Destination-

A steady embrace of

Letting go..

Wishful Fantasies

My garden blooms 

with memories. 

Sky fills with hopeful 

reveries. 

The weightlessness of

my heart must be a hint

of an unknown longing. 

The urge to fly- 

must be a sign of a 

distant love arriving. 

The persistent chirps of 

sparrows from the balcony,

The fresh shoots on the 

Almond trees-

Spring must be an 

anomaly of her feelings.

Sometimes, through my 

stained window, 

When I see a rainbow in 

the sky- I wonder if 

she put it up there.

Do seasons still wait 

For her approval?

The weather still complies 

To her instructions?

It almost makes me

Believe,

That somewhere,

She too thinks about me.

And the earth, 

Briefly bends in our 

Favour.

Unbecoming

to gently dissolve 

like salt in water,

to gently disappear 

like fragrance in air-

the way your name 

tastes on my tongue,

and the way your face 

is imprinted on my walls.

to escape in your 

reveries and be lost,

and to trace you back 

to reality and adore-

my days roll by like this.

and months, and years.

to know someone exists

and to yearn for 

something that's yet 

to happen-

the river of my time 

once touched your feet,

and by the sound of 

your anklets- my life's 

unbecoming.

Oh Bloody Hell!

The sleep is gone.

Dreams restlessly dance.

The days flirt with 

The evening breeze and 

The sparrows sing in my 

Heart- it churns.

I dress up well to have 

a glance of you-

Jitters, butterflies-

The sky isn't blue anymore.

My yearning has painted 

The world in your colours. 

There are feelings 

Better than this I bet.

But now that it has 

Happened to me, 

How I wanna scream 

about it.

How I wanna lace up my 

words in your reveries,

and float away in the 

Paper boats I made while 

I was unbecoming.

A star has just fallen 

for me asking 

If this is love-

I'm Buoyant. Baffled

Bamboozled-

Ohh bloody hell!!

I have no one way of

saying this, but 

Yes, yes. Hell yes..

Ode to Rockstar songs

After years of wandering,

you find that one 

wholesome home to 

settle down.

The 90s Bollywood music 

you listen to, and the good 

old Kannada songs-

Western music happens,

and you are obsessively 

into a couple of bands.

Then you hit a sweet spot.

It takes over you

like a ghost of childhood 

you always romanticized.

Years pass by while it 

makes a home in your head.

You relish the indie music,

you go gaga over 

classical fusions for some time.

But you always come back 

to this homeliness of

Rockstar-

A hall of Sadda Haq with 

TV and couch.

Pirse Ud Chala kitchen,

where you cook dancing.

Aur Ho is a cozy washroom.

Tum Ho is bed and Tum ko

is a blanket.

This homeliness has always 

Been a good night’s sleep,

and a Kun Faya Kun like 

mornings you wake up to-

Nadaan Parindey like

Meals and Hawa hawa kind 

of evenings to slip in

Drinking-

Dichotomy of fame kinda

of tea.

Ohh! beyond the shackles
of right and wrong,

life has become tasty,

and at ease- a toast

like Tango for Taj.

Misplaced word for Devotion

The days I don’t

talk to you-

I fill stardust in

the gaps left by the 

stars that died.

and you wink.

I make crafts out

of clouds, and

it rains rhyming

your shape.

I whisper your name

to the sparrows,

and their songs feel

personal now.

I trace your silence

on window fog,

watch it fade into

a fragrance-

It reminds me of a 

place only we know.

The days I don’t

talk to you- the sun 

looks overworked.

the day turns dull 

and by night-

on the ripples of 

my sleep, I write 

your name with the

Moonlight-

and when I fold my 

loneliness into

paper boats of memory,

to let them drift

towards your dreams-

only if you could look

at the sky once-

You’d know that 

distance is just a 

polite word misplaced

for devotion, and silence, 

a language we both 

still speak.

Remind Me to miss you

Remind me to miss you.

Remind me to remember you

like I always have.

I keep forgetting names

and streets

or where my house is.

I keep forgetting

dates and faces

like I am being pushed

down a dungeon.

The appropriation

of my adult bones,

falling heavy on my 

childlike heart-

I keep searching for things

without knowing

what I am looking for.

It's numb where it 

shouldn't.

It's itchy where it 

shouldn't.

Can you come

and hold my hand?

Can you come

and remind me

what warmth feels like?

Teach me the smell

of fantasies.

Show me dreams

and teach me

how pain feels.

Remind me what 

reminiscing is by tracing 

your stories on my hand

till all my nerve endings.

burn it in my skin

before I lose it all

and fall down

an hopeless abyss.

Crush me with your softness

and bruise me with 

the itch of your love again.

Treat me like a toddler

one last time.

And if there is no hope

left-

strand me

in a certain dampness

that reeks of your love,

and dump me

in a desert

to search for hope again.

Villain for Peace

Don't talk.

Don't talk and try

to be lovable and nice.

Enough smiles

and uncomfortable laughs,

awkward silences,

and half-truths

that are bad lies.

Don't give suggestions

or try to show care.

Don't suggest new outfits

or healthy diets

that I could try.

Don't try to sound easy

and try to make it simple.

Don't try to own my pain

like it's a DIY craft

from Pinterest.

And above all,

don't keep asking me

if I have found another girl.

You have broken me 

enough and moved on,

already.

Don't try to fix things,

just because you pity me.

Well wait,

you don't feel sorry for me.

You are doing this

because you want to be good

in your own eyes.

You are polishing your guilt

in my waters,

so you can glide your 

reflection without taking 

accountability.

Well, all the best.

Go get that happy sleep.

If your ghosts visit you,

gaslight them too-

tell them how I wasn't 

good enough.

tell them how bad I was.

You always needed

a villain for your peace.

and here I am,

serve me on a platter.

Soaking Her in a Song

When you soak her

In a song and keep

Listening to it 

Over and over-

The melodies stick

In your skin like

Someone cauterized

them in your bones-

The rhythms turn

into fragrance-

Even the sense of your

appetite emanates from 

the same tones-

Ohh! What a life.

What a disposition.

It's as if the moon 

Needs your validation.

Butterflies seek you

For color designs.

The sound of rain is

Your composition 

and you decide the

Picturesque course 

Of every river.

Your senses bask

In cosmic rhythms 

and you feel you're 

Forever redeemed,

Like you've tasted

Flight.

And your euphoria 

Is justified-

If love and music 

Doesn't give you wings,

Redbull never will.

Wonder between Pages

Our story is written 

Somewhere,

If not in Stardust,

In half-burnt charcoal.

If not in the golden pages

On the rough surface of 

Lichen-laden rock.

Preserved in a 

Century-old book,

If not in ancient exegesis.

Hints of old-style dried 

Roses between the pages,

Waiting for some kid to 

Accidentally read it.

He mumbles and laughs,

And screams in joy while 

Grasping words-

It’s fun to turn pages

And gleam with wonder 

Without even 

Understanding anything.

We are that story.

Not words.

We are the wonders 

Between the pages.

Innocent Love

When love is still

A fresh paint out of 

Coloring books.

The idea of it being 

In a place beyond 

Good or bad--

It's actual butterflies.

Light legs, dance 

Moves and radio 

Playing your favourite 

Songs--

You couldn't even

Say her name aloud,

Thinking whatever 

You felt was sacred,

And it needs to be

Preserved--

A dreamy prince riding

A horse and a princess 

Waiting for him in

A glass castle--

The clouds gather,

It rains, and you're 

Stupid enough to 

Believe coincidences

And you actually smile.

Then, adulthood 

Eats innocence.

Your fantasies leak

From the gaps in

Time that's not 

Relative.

You dare say, love

Is not unconditional 

One day, thinking-

The realisation is a

Pumped up achievement--

But you'll not be

Knowing it just yet-

About how you 

Killed in yourself,

A child.

Spells and Jinx

The petals blooming 

Out of thorns.

Fragrance beneath 

Those cement walls.

I've seen you mumble 

Hymns of love,

Behind the face of 

Your anger.

You're tough, 

You're soft.

A mountain that can

Protect a flicker-

And a flame that can 

Be fire to tame a

Mountain's rage.

And because I want

To be grounded

In your pragmatism 

And float away in 

Your reveries-

Here, have a rose.

And my heart,

And many reasons-

A snowflake to be

Molten your palms.

A dew drop wanting 

To be liberated by 

Your feet-

I'm a Muggle in awe

Of your spells.

Jinx me more,

I'm happy to be a

Subject of your magic.

Cupcakes

As I try to look her

In the eyes.

My shame repeatedly 

Breaking into a laughter.

Looking away.

Trying to look again.

Slowly getting used to

The depth of her gaze.

She smiles.

I look away and 

Come again with only 

A thought in my mind-

How to kiss her today.

My desire peeks in 

And out. Passion 

Knits rationality with

Love.

I ask her to lean to 

Whisper a secret.

But only dare to kiss

Her on the forehead.

She sits back and

Smiles wide.

She knows only so

Much can be done in

The restaurant.

The rest of the time 

That was left,

I lace my longing 

In the cupcakes she 

Brought.

Piece by piece I place

It between her lips

While I look her in 

The eye. 

My gaze steady--

Each bite

A hidden kiss,

A held breath,

A promise left unsaid.

And when the last piece 

Melt on her tongue.

There was no shame

Left. Only the comfort 

Of being known.

She understood 

A poet’s heart—

That sometimes love is 

Best served in 

Metaphors.

And birthdays are 

Sweetest when the gift 

Is simply accepting 

The love as it's offered.

Like this one was.

Waiting for you

And while I wait for you,

Wait to hear your voice.

Wait to have that one

Real glance -

I see the second-hand

On my watch turn into 

A knife,

Each tick is a slash.

Fatigue sets in.

My anger simmers.

I question your intentions 

And almost edge my

Longing into disgust.

But I wait.

I sit here gulping pain

And nursing my wounds 

With your thoughts.

And as you make your 

Steady appearance,

The flowers that bloom

Here, 

Ward off my misery.

Life seems sorted 

Thereafter.

Earth stands healed.

And I become the 

Same fool again.

Butterflies

These butterflies in 

My stomach that

Whisper your name.

They tickle my fancy,

They colour my

World in new shades.

They get to head,

Go to the heart and 

Don't let me sleep.

I seek lullabies of

Of your lips in the dead

Of the night and 

You appear like a

Holy voice that 

Wash away my sins.

That's how you sing

Me to sleep these

Days.

And in half-dreams

I slip in better realms.

Only to wake up

Rinsed in starlight..

The butterflies again

And your name.

You're the enchantress 

Who has stolen me 

Away.

Intent to Preserve your Gaze

I've stolen your gaze,

And I intend to 

Preserve it.

I've wrapped it in my 

Favourite songs.

Soaked it in the fragrance 

Of the flowers I've 

Adored.

I intend to nurse it 

With my nostalgia and 

Nourish it with the presage 

Of great time that's 

Ahead.

Ohh! How I wish to be

Seen by your eyes

Again and again.

How I want my name 

To be uttered along

With yours.

How I want be stolen,

Intoxicated and 

Drowned in your depths.

And if only, redemption

Didn't lie in this yearning-

How I wouldn't even 

Dare fall for you--

But I do. I do. I do.

First Day

If I were in the first 

Year of college today.

On the first day and 

In the first class-

Among the band of

Those lean girls with 

Deep eyes..

You would be there

Too-- soft cheeks

And a bright smile.

Not hesitating to

Laugh gracefully with

Those feeble lips.

Not at all bothering 

To mark my humble 

Presence-

Casually playing 

With the strands of 

Your hair to cook

Guys like me..

Who would still be 

Thinking, infatuation 

Is a crime.

Maybe I would slip

Into a whirlpool of 

Fantasy to fall for you 

Eventually, and never 

Conjure up any courage 

To confess about the 

Ocean I carry.

And maybe after 

Brooding for over 

Four years-

On the last day of

College, in the

Farewell Program-

I would gather just 

Enough voice to ask for

A pic with you and

My wingman would 

Mess with the camera..

And your persona in

The blue saree would 

Forever go fading in 

Memory for years or 

Perhaps for decades.

When I Can't Fall in Love

When I saw you 

Yesterday, standing 

Outside the metro.

The sky didn't melt.

Earth didn't shake.

It didn't rain.

And as we walked,

As I tried to catch 

Your glance-

My stomach didn't 

Conjure any butterflies.

Or my head didn't sink

In imagination of a

Rainbow laden sky.

Blood didn't rush

To my veins, bones

Or to the one that 

Erects.

I wonder if this isn't 

Love. I wonder if 

This longing isn't 

Enough.

I've deliberately 

Dug up my fantasies 

To plant my desire-

But nothing has 

Bloomed yet.

It feels weird to not

Fall for you.

These bones of Iron

And muscles of steel

And the sparks that

Fall short in the nerves

Ask only one thing-

What's worse?

Digging up love when

There isn't or unable 

To feel its presence 

When it's abundant.

Delulu

This wind that 

Must be passing 

Through her loose 

Hair..

The stream that 

Must have flowed

After caressing her

Gentle feet..

This feeling of 

Breathing under the 

Same sky as her.

Feeling constantly 

Her whispers in my 

Ears-

I paint her with my

Fascination in the 

Eye of my mind.

I adorn her with 

Stardust in my heart.

The artist I wanna 

Become, what a 

Feast, she is to my 

Rose-scented desires.

Lost in the maze 

Of swirling starlight.

Dumb struck and 

Humble..

Ohh! How astray 

I am on my own 

Definitive paths. 

I know the birds 

In the sky, give no 

Damn about me but 

How good it feels to

Say to myself-

They might be 

Carrying the songs

She has sung,

Why else would they 

Chirp so good in

A place where I

Happily reside?