339 and the other 45

The shops passed, the streets glowed

The jam started and the traffic slowed

The greying air and the smile-less faces

A bus that went through 45 places

She’d got in at 3 and sat on her own

A nomad in her thoughts on her window-seat throne

The people were a blur and the music up loud

A glance or two to the filling crowd

The sleep took over, the tunes were a mash

The conductor asked 50 others for cash

A jolt in the bus thanks to the speed bump below

She woke up disgruntled from her steel window-bar pillow

The rush increased and they climbed in, in bunches

She didn’t even have the smallest of hunches

When the boy with the earphones got in from the back

With glasses, and thoughts and a heavy back-pack

He stared at the people who lined up ahead

From 6’3” all he saw were 51 other heads

None seemed to budge, and none seemed to move

He’d gotten in at 25 and had to get off at 42

The music in his ears was playing only off and on

In a BEST 339, the signal’s always gone.

So he wriggled to his pocket and put off the FM

And for those 60-odd seconds he could now hear them.

He heard the horns and he heard them talk

They cleared a little up front and a foot ahead he walked

He started his mp3 and a smile appeared

As the junction passed and the signal cleared

3 feet from her was where he stood

As far from the seated as he possibly could

At 39, they got off like they all lived together

The ones in the bus could breathe a little better

That’s where he found an empty seat

Next to curly hair and tapping feet

That moment she felt a change in the air

She opened her eyes and found him there

He looked for a stunned moment at her

And they looked away, like it didn’t really matter

He stared single-mindedly, not moving an inch

When the bus tilted and elbows touched, she flinched

They didn’t hear the words playing in the other’s head

They heard the conductor say 42 instead

He got up slowly and kept a straight face

Hers too, but a shivering smile you could trace

At 42, he got off, not believing his luck

She on the other hand, knew that lightning had struck

A feeling they hadn’t expected to turn up for years

And the song played in two different sets of ears

“There may be something there that wasn’t there before”

And with a redder face, she got off at 44.

4,2

Imagine your secret spilling out

And the one it’s about getting to know

And the little flash of surprise in his eyes

And then the awkward silence that hangs between you

Threatening to puncture your lungs

Your eyes and you face and blacken your nails

All because a little secret

Is a lie you told and yet didn’t

Now every movement is magnified

Every word then is careful and chosen

There’s a flicker of greed to know more

In the same eyes that doubt you too

Why did it stay so long?

Is this the complete truth?

Was it meant to hurt?

Was it meant to break?

Was it meant to protect?

Imagine those questions in his eyes

And the vulnerability of you both in that moment

Only, he doesn’t know he’s a little less broken

The secret wasn’t his.

If it’s dark, you’re lucky

You can pretend to be someone else

That only means another secret.

20.

I owe him that.
I owe him years of silence.
Time passed and so did opportunities.
I got closure. Somewhere, he didn't.
I owe him that.


He isn't everything to me. No. That'll be someone else. But he's definitely some place where no one else will be.
He'll be in my life for every day of it. On a different day, for someone less etched into my system- I could have said it differently. With a different feeling. Probably that of excitement and uncertainty and a bit of a tingle.
But this is what happens when you're sure.
This is what happens when you know that one rain every monsoon, is with someone who laughs back and high-fives and most importantly, doesn't ask for an explanation.
Even if he deserves it.

I've managed to believe that somewhere, people we believe in break us. That poetry is in tragedy and joy and the words are just the madness of the mind escaping, finding a vent.

People WILL disappoint me. Even this one.


It's me who has to find a way to forgive them. To hold off for bigger joys than the disappointments they caused.
To compromise on this unnecessary ego I seem to have build up.

And even if this is a part of growing up.
Bring. It. On.

11 was yesterday.

Back from Aahan 2012, Day 1.

The madness has been handed down. And it has grown.

It's touched raw nerves and open wounds and made them want to grow.

And it has ascended beyond just a college.

It has ascended beyond education.

10.

Bring on the snow, bring in the fire
Let the water above my head get higher
Cut me open, rub salt in my wounds
I'll cry and shiver and fall right through
Touch a nerve and dig in deeper
Make me lonelier than a dying leper
In the chaos of your inflicted pain
I'll scratch my way out again
In the forced silence I'll find a tune
A minute later, but I'll hum it soon
My headless melody best known as
Hope and all that ridiculous jazz.

9 and 3/4

I'm a day late, and well-honesty, not too finicky about it.
I've had a long day, and honestly- it's too cramped to talk about it.
Good night :)

8.

When I was 6, Dad and I would sit on the low tank in the compound and we'd draw a rough plot of a house on a farm. It always had a pond, a bridge and a house.
It's been 15 years. We have a farm. Dad's put in a whole lot of his time and resources into this.
And I'm proud. It's good to see him so happy and so involved and so earnest in this.
My parents got married in the house where I stay. The guest list had some 20 people. Yes, only immediate family. No religion and all that jazz (We're Atheists).
And yes, like it runs in my blood, I'll be getting married there. If I do. But yes, it'll be here. Without the jazz. With more people. Everyone I love. And someone I love like it'd kill me not to.

7.

Something came back to me today. Not completely unpleasant, but a part of my head sighed.

Cross the room
Find the window
Open the shutters
Let the sunlight in
Along comes the dust
And a leaf or two
A summer's wind
On a winter's day
And eyes that looked beyond
Will now look away.
A wasp escapes
A fly is trapped
A heart beating in a mouse-trap
Why have windows when you can't dream?
All they want is words,
And all you can
Is scream.


Pity though- I'm having an otherwise decent weekend. Tomorrow will be a trip to the farm. If I get decent enough pics, (and I quote my Dad here-) "GOOD. For you."

6.

Between going crazy
And staying sane
It's not much of a choice
Either way you're done for.
Might as well enjoy
What the madness has to give
A redder face
An awkward moment
A private thought
A song together
A secret laugh
A silly war
An unasked question
A body-less hug
A shared love
A common fear
But nothing compares
To the warmth of you
The smile of you
The sound of you
But I might as well enjoy
What the madness has to give
A madder, breathless life to live.
And the two of us will feel
So much more than we can.
So reach out in the darkness
Hold my invisible hand.

5.

Bad days come and go. See the silver lining? It's in the head. Maybe one day we'll have you tell me that.
Highlight of today, post the work chaos? It was singing 'No man can ever love you like I do' itna zorr se between Chakala and Model Town that I felt a bit of me fly.
I was happy.
Really happy. What a song to sing aloud. To smile aloud.
You know what happened after Model Town? The wind.
Today's to a dog. It, under ideal circumstances, would have been her 11th birthday. Stupid dog, but beautiful.
Anyway. That's about it.

Just a thought though-
If there's something that's hurting you, & making you smile- which do you turn your back to?