वो आया.. और पता नहीं कहाँ से मुझे अपनी बाहों में समा के.. दूर.. बहुत दूर ले गया.. हम साथ में चलते चलते जब थक जाते.. तो कभी वो मुझे अपनी गोदी में सुला लेता, कभी मैं उसे.. लोग देखके हँसते थे.. बातें किया करते थे.. कि पता नहीं क्या देखा दोनों ने एक दूसरे में.. और हम, उनकी ही हसीं पर हँस कर रह जाते.. लेकिन ये तो है.. पता नहीं उसने मुझ में क्या देखा.. पता नहीं उसमे मैंने क्या देखा.. शायद कुछ देखा ही नहीं.. बस.. दोनों एक दूसरे का हाट थाम कर.. धीरे धीरे.. आँख बंद कर.. एक दूसरे के सहारे से.. चलना सीख लिए..
I am one of those who actively tries to hide away from the face of happiness. For God know what reason. Most things that satiate all around me, it’s difficult for me to connect with them. It is often construed as my arrogance, or introversion.. but I wish I could define it, label it rather, as easily as people around me do.
You see, labelling is not a bad thing, it just masks the depth and complexity of the subject in question, because every person has his/her perception of what a label means. While I struggle to find answers for who I am or what makes me happy, sometimes, serendipity takes a little pity on me and throws me into small moments of extreme joy – someone’s hug, a random stranger’s smile, the feel of a raindrop and so many more.
This is a small collection of such moments of joy which I found when I wasn’t looking.
I have never been a gesture person, be it small or big.. And yet, when he, with his sunset blush, went down on his knee, my heart stopped. Like, PERIOD.
Within that one moment, I lived an entire dream, the one I could never ever even dare. My quiet drained the color from his face, and the fact that I took full 3 minutes to just breathe did not help either. But you know how, to some questions, even the unheard ones, you just know the answer? Like you just know it.
You don’t think, you don’t ask, you don’t deliberate, you don’t discuss.. You just decide
I am the flower of dying love dry, parched, scorned dying love I am one with the pink turned brown the stems frailed, the petals frowned hanging by but a thread that chips away with each breath
I am the one you pity in Fall watching, hoping, pining for the youth long lost I am the one you try to get rid of from beneath your sole as I, sludged with the remaining water try hard to stick on your soul
I am the one you flick away discard as not worthy of your love or pity or even sympathy and I am the one that lies on the roads not traveled by only waiting to be swept away
Yes. I am that flower of dying love and that’s all I’ll always be.. another flower of your dying love
I needed empty
so I filled myself up the brink..
Slowly.. One by one i started
Picking the pieces i didn’t want
putting together ones that
were not mine..
And others too, those that i wished i hadn’t
broken or torn or ripped apart
But i needed empty
and so i did..
Too many of them..
I picked four, dropped three
gathered 5 again, lost 2..
And while at it,
A tap came, on my shoulder
then my heart..
and then the soul
What! said my exasperated self..
turning in a swish, just to see
you standing, smiling, mocking me!
After a couple blanks it hit!
You weren’t laughing at me!
but at the pieces gone wrong..
you took them.. almost snatched!
from my bleeding hands
and put them, well, at a hell lot more wrong!
But.. it didn’t feel wrong
It didn’t hurt, didn’t pinch.. but just
hung there, it felt good..
Then you did it again!
another part, another place..
and another warmth..
its going on..
I still try to hold my old pieces back,
you still anyway fix’em up
Maybe I didn’t need empty..
Maybe I just needed