Saturday, 28 June 2008

what next?

black, orange, green
* smiles

Sunday, 22 June 2008

closing time

the same sinking feeling
after we kissed good night
as i lit my last cigarette of the day
I sit alone
place we sat together once
just few hours before.
thoughts sink in deeper
disproportioned mix,
of melody and melancholy

the door bell rings
I smile, knowing it’s you,
I smile again, while opening the door.
you stand there, and smile back
I wait for the moment
I wait to eternity
I wait for you to come in
I wait to kiss you
and I wait for your warm hug.
I hope, and I hope
for the time to stand still

your shoes next to the door
the socks on the floor.
i think, I think of you
I think of your touch
and I think of our conversation
we had before we kissed.
castled by the gloomy thoughts
my heart sinks, sinks again
I wonder if you are already asleep
I wonder if you are waiting for me
I wonder, I think. I wish.
to kiss you again, and always

I stub my cigarette
silently walk inside, beside you
I look at you and I hope
hoping this night could last longer
atleast this time, atleast for once
assuring myself, you would wake me up
to take back your tee
at that inevitable moment of hatred
when it's time for you to go

I watch you wear the shoes now
that rested next to the door, all night long
along with my soul at peace
being next to you
sign of the time when you had come
you kiss me bye and I open the door
this time to watch you go
you hold my hand and I watch
I watch you leave

the shoes are gone, and so are you
the night is gone, and so is my peace
what remains
along with the cigarettes stub
is this same
sinking feeling

Sunday, 8 June 2008


The keys on the bed
The mobile on the table
And the cigarettes we shared
The splash of water in the bathroom
After you took that shower
Your black tee that I wore
And your strategic win to take it back
Those unsaid smiles
And amused me
‘wat’s on your mind?”
the similar familiarity
answered with those smiles, again
The conversations we made
And the kisses I stole
The hands we held
and the eyes that talked
The music you loved
and the songs I played

The other side of bed,
Is empty,
The days are incomplete
Since you kissed and left
The cigarettes you stubbed
and the glass of lime water
you sipped on
the sound of your laughter
and the feel of your hands
the words you spoke
n the looks we exchanged
your smell that lingers
everything, and
this prolonged wait

But you.

Tuesday, 3 June 2008

water mishap

(close your eyes n relax now
crazy folds of wind
(the other side now
familiar clattered sounds
(alright! see you guys tomorrow)
my 1st rain in mumbai.
excited n stuck at the door;i call him
a girl from class offered to drop me,
i agree, instantly
wet, messy, wet, chaos
i rearrange the stuff
(2 days at a row)
soaked in water, again


Weekends are generally the easiest to pamper yourself. It’s not surprising, how almost all the beauty salons are packed with people all day long. Not to forget, you are in long queues if you haven’t taken a prior appointment.

Since I had no appointment like zillion others, I joined the queue and decided to wait for a while. I generally walk off and prefer to carry forward my visits to the next time. It was flattering that their observation resulted in obliging me and I was called in much quicker. Finally I was taken inside the room- where they do the waxing and some facial clean ups etc etc. The radio was running in the background; one of my favorite songs on air..! The song made me felt sick though, I couldn’t enjoy it for some reasons. I sit there and wait for my hands to be soaked. A girl in mid 20’s in front of me begins the conversation with a very amiable smile, ‘you’ve got beautiful hands and such nice nails, you don’t even have to do anything’. Beauty Parlours makes me miss my fun times with Sheen and reminds me how we used to waste long hours at Sridevi and Odyssey just because we were given the most prestigious treatment there, always! More than often, Sheen's impulsiveness would overpower her and she would be stuck in these really time-taking hair or face treatment. We would sit for hours having conversations and laughing on everything erroneously.

I do not like visiting parlors and I do not like visiting doctors. I hate attending weddings and am always lazy to go anywhere. I do not appreciate wasting money on beauty treatments (since they only make you feel ugly at the end) and I do not have obsession with shopping. I do not have qualms to be what I am and I distrust wearing make up.

Anyhow, so, while I was there eventually, getting nostalgic, listening to my music; I managed to give a faint smile and responded ‘I know! It’s the 1st time in my life I am getting a manicure done’. She smiles back ‘My husband loves long nails but since the time my daughter is born, I really can’t keep them’. Boy! She did look like a college kid. Amidst all this, I happen to notice this middle aged woman sitting on the chair to my right. She looked much older than she actually was, I thought. She had this severe anguish look on her face. She looked alone. She was humming the same song. My favorite. Her subdued green colored kurta and its make indicated how attention deprived she was. And how harder she tried to look nice. Not merely to look nice, but to feel better. To feel wanted and to be appreciated. She stopped humming, looked up, gave a forced smile and walked out. For some reasons, my heart ached for her. I hope she finds happiness soon, wherever; and in whatever fashion she wishes to!

After 15 minutes approx, my nails were filed and Wendell Rodericks nail paint was coated on my filed nails. It looked alrite. I stepped out to pay. Right then, one of the girls got up and came to pay in hurry, not missing to keep eyeing at her on the mirror, very conscious if her hair looked alright after those strenuous hours of getting them ironed. ‘I have to attend this party at 7 organized by Americans! You know how particular they are about time. I could have got ready and then got my hair done!” She pays and walks off. I let her pay before me.

While I looked for Rekha to give her some tip, I hear someone else on the phone; ‘what the fugg, why can’t you come out for some time at least, today is Saturday’.
No, I didn’t even have to ‘overhear’, she was loud enough.

I paid and walked out.
(..even I am going, you have to come for some time..) .. the sound fades off.

..Rickshaw..Carter Road?

Sunday, 1 June 2008

why again

referring to 'why'
i re-admit.

it reaaaaally sucks..!!