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Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Waking up with you

I want to wake up in your arms, dreaming.
and go Bungy Jumping with our fingers, intertwined
Go dive the sky with my arms around your body
making out in the vastness of the amber blue sky
'hippi'fy my belongings
and life to bare minimum, to be with you, fully alive
unbasked, untied and unwarranted

Buy not a house, but make home with treehouse in the woods of amazon
or banks of the nile or
our own ganges,
dipping in the chants of love
embracing the holy vibes of our communion: sacrosanct as I see it

with you, the materials are thin air
with you, my soul gets ripe
with every stroke your fingers make to side of my face
with every kiss you plant on the folding of my eyes
with every soothing shhh you do , when arguments ablaze
with locking of our eyes, each time, letting hours just pass by
waking up with you, and dreams by my side

the tales of mumbai

Sleeping faces or the smiling ones,
Busy texting or the talking ones
Talking Stocks or Chants of bhajans!
loneliness amongst the many or the completeness standing lone by the pole
In pursuit of finding life purpose or finding life in the everyday living

life travels in a Mumbai local,
creating stories, all along.

Strangers in the night

Strangers in the Night, exchanging glances
wondering in the night, what were the chances

I had met him a few days back, on the pedestal of life I didnt intend to walk on,
lets say, I was just strolling there, Alone, in thoughts of the distant past, In aspiration..uum well honestly no aspiration whatsoever.
so the pedestal was pretty much an open space, where you were perhaps not expected to be you, but you still had the choice.
I made the choice, I was me.

anyway, I had met him there.
Strangely, it began on a note incomprehensible to me in the start. It looked cliche'd, passse.To this date, i don't know why i answered that question, But I did.

This led to talk and more talk
Chats and night talks
Meaning back in life,
Talks of Aspiration
People who motivate
Eroded emotions of Past
Sweet rumblings
flirtatious humming
the crackling laughs, the giggles and the smiles
The optimistic surrounds and the powerful conversations

the wait for more.

Sharing of the Dreams, Travelogues and Stories,
Readings of the Past, The Mundane and Newness of the Present

what were the chances, of 'a connect so strange'

It turned out so right, for strangers in the night!

So much Contrast, yet so much Romance

The hopeless romantic tale of meeting this guy, whom she never thought she'd fall for!
Lively n bubbly, she was off hoping the roads, delving in love for emotions, nd moments...and strangely in the mayanagri she meets this guy, who seems off the romantic hook, in a world of theories. Let's call him theory fuser, because that's what she named him.

Both met,and travelled the roads together, one looking for people another looking at the person.

There was aspark, an instant one perhaps. Yes spark, in waiting to see who turns up, The spark in roaming the land of thieves(chor bazaar as we fondly call it), sparkin the narrow bylanes and a spark in holding hands, by sheer coincidence!

Then they parted, few passed moments, few words exchanged and they met. She was eager,Perhaps even he was.

That day the moon had a charm, not seen by the two of them in a longtime or may be they never noticed. By the sea, they spoke about life! Life was passion for one and passion was, well, investment for the other

Too much Contrast, yes. Anyhow, they somehow managed. Pretty well.

They parted, she dint want to, maybe even he didn't.

Again, moments went by, words they exchanged.

The urge grew,to meet of course.
And they met, yet again under the moonlit sky, with reflection in the sea and their reflection in the other’s eyes!

Something happened that day between the day. Something had already started to happen to her. May be to him too. But together, Something was happening to both of them, together.

That's where thestory ends and
yes, they started.

Everyday

Everyday she would check her whatsapp for his messages, lesser and lesser they were getting as the days passed.
not that she wanted to be bothered by it, but it did was concerned.
Every day would harden her more,
everyday would make her believe lesser and lesser in the power of 'something she culdnt decipher'
Every passing day was a wait, for reasons unknown.

Social love, was it just.

She did question herself time and again, why the inclination so strong.. She had no answers.
She would fight the feeling everyday, She restricted her desire to ask everyday.

It was strengthening her too, somehow, or so she believed.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Though Incomplete...

When my body lay numb, open in the wide

you put your warmth onto my soul

The warmth with the strangeness of character,

unlike the cliche'd

The warmth crude to the hilt,

The warmth indifferent to my Low's

it smelled of sweat and not white musk

it echoed but wasnt shrill

the warmth unrecognised by you and the rest

not celebrated by the present you too

Your past, as you say, was familiar somewhat.

your future, might also be so.

Blank and Black.

Blank and black.
Colors.. So abstract.
Shades of Grey, pale yellow, blood red and more!
Colors huh!

With strokes bent and un-positive highlight
Gibberish, sentences I speak in my head

I know you and I dont know you
I mean love but I don't feel love

Fantasy or is it hallucination
Naked bodies but covered souls
Well meaning words, tainted intentions and no emotions.

Life, as its turning new?

Mumbai changes, in a blink.

He Changed the meaning of Mumbai for me. Every Road, Every eating Joint, every train ride echo of him. Left right center above below everywhere.

I had always dismissed this feeling for him as mere comfort and not the likes of love. The Archetypes, the stereotypes, nothing because it was different, atleast how we had started off.
and again, it was different, the way it ended.
I had never experienced this, before. When the hunger pangs of the ever hungry dry out completely, the senses and mind in the most basic forms appears senseless.

I do not know why and how and what had happened. It was a mere 8 month relationship, but the depth felt that of years, even more.eh, MERE 8 months! But was I the only one, all the while feeling everything. Was he nowhere? Was his essence missing all throughout, that a spur of attraction, took it apart.

For days. All together I felt senseless, unable to decode what had actually happened, or what essentially was happening?
Is the generation we live in, with No commitment statuses and the need to not be judged whatever we may do, make one commit lesser in relationships? Is convenience the only thing we aspire for when with someone. Even the convenience to move on?

agreed, the idea of love is somewhat exaggerated, or atleast the idea of Bollywood love is, but does that mean that conveniently we could just overlook emotions?
In the name of honesty, he was insensitive. When while drunk, he had told me once that I was the one who brought in life to him, but does one let go of the harbinger of life so easily on finding someone livelier?

I don’t understand.

He unconsciously changed the meaning of the city I had loved, I had grown up adoring. This city had gradually become ‘HIM and ME’ for me. I myself had started fuelling in idea of me being with him forever, Though I was always aware of the non commitment.

I am not angry with him, I am just sad, that his self took over the sense of us that he had, and that too so easily. In mere 3 days time,from someone special and someone close enough to share the stupidest of things with , I had become someone he had started drifting apart from. I need to understand, how and why this happened? And does this happen that often?
Does Non commitment mean no expectation? Does Non commitment mean insensitivity.
I remember finding my muse for ‘A friend by choice, a lover by chance’ in him. Was that friend never there? Only the lover existed, who just could fly away in a blink.

I am hurt, deep down I am.
enough, that for a week and more I have been questioning my idea of love
Have I given undue weightage to a mere emotion, and let it take over my sense of me?

I am hurt more, because in the process of being with him , I had changed as a person.
I was somewhat transforming into his idea of me
his expectation of me
again, I am not blaming him, Because that’s what I chose.

I am hurt, because I let him overpower my love for the city too.

While leaving he did tell me, don’t let the idea of love vanish from your life.
It did vanish
The love for this city.
this city is no longer the city of dreams for me, nightmare happen too.
this city is no longer the city of holding hands for me, because hearts leave each other too
this city is no longer the city of possibilities, because not so possible doesn’t come true.
this city of no longer the city of the idea of love, because here you fall out of love too.

I am hurt
I am hurt, because I don’t know if I will ever reinstill my love for this city,this city I have loved through and through.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

My Shadow, Free.

My Shadow, free

For it moves beyond the confinement of my body

for it breathes the fresh air when I stand behind The caged window,

For it roams the streets when I can muster courage to step out in the balcony,

My shadow wanders, Free.

That Light source that lights up lives, Gives birth to my free existence.

In my shadow world, I can be everything I’v ever dreamt to be.

My shadow world lets me... explore the naked body, for my clothes don’t matter there.

Beauty products are not relevant, for My Face is all black there.

There I feel young, Un-wrinkled by the words of the wise old Real world

The Dupatta covering my head here, slips down and spreads wide to become my wings there

My hands always tied up on the bed or in action to feed the dependents, become birds taking a flight or a fish exploring the beyonds of the ocean

My shadow world lets me be, The Me-reality never allowed me to be.

A Complete Day of 'You'!

Mesmerized by a complete day of 'You'
I feel strange when you get up to leave

Pangs of Desire in my stomach
Hunger for your voice in my mind
for the comfort-full nap on your right arm and the pecks

here and there.

Missing you is a becoming a habit, O! so profound!
your fragrance houses my body, cologne too
and dreams of you spill over my everyday reality

I am loving you in a manner
unknown to my past, incomprehensible to the present mind.
perhaps, unknown to the oxford too!

May be, I am not close to being an archetypical lover
may be, I am beyond the cliche's
I am just getting lost in our makeshift world, the one so refined!

The Friend by Choice, A Lover By Chance.

The friend by Choice, A lover by chance
Sings the romantic inside

With disconnect on thoughts
yet the same string of emotion

Synergy of learning
Despite the varied perceptions

Comes together, our paths, for the divergent desires
or we split the paths when our thoughts conspire

Confutes my artificiality
Yet takes in all:
The perfectionist, the messy affair, the non real
that makes up 'me'

My friend by choice, and the lover by chance!

Monday, June 2, 2014

An Icon, is it?

When you’re an icon, you’re not just a person—you’re a myth.

In fact, the myth Is what transcends into reality when it’s a face you recognise the myth with. An icon is a representation of the ‘wow’ factor a celebrity carries along with him/her. The persona and the attributes we assign to the icon are largely created by the media, be it any. Human in its form, but an icon dazzles, an icon fascinates, an icon is worshipped. An icon, at times replaces God. Their life in reality is of absolute negligence in front of their reel life which is relevant, exciting and in all its content ,all set to be evocative.

But what is it , as Herwitz puts it, “What is it about film and television culture, the star system, and consumer society that have made the shift from the human form to icons”? The answer lies in our aspirational values, our human abilities of acceptance and dependence on the media to create ‘opinion ‘ and thus, perspective. We let the icon rise above the culture, above the masses. If we give it a thought, the icon seems powerless to an individual, but in fact we, as individuals and a social set up are powerless to the awe, excitement it generates or carries. We submit, subconsciously or consciously to the larger than life image that has been created for the icon..

Plus the brand value an icon generates is immense, for they themselves rise from being a brand to a cult. It helps a brand stand out, stand tall, adds to the brand recall and serves an an assurance. They are the communication and the communicators for the brand

Despite the fact, that the life of an icon may be short lived and at the end, its the paparazzi that makes an icon , the icon he is. His reality does affect it. But the power bestowed on them to shake the emotional appeal of masses is immense, and perhaps, the reason for them letting go of the real to be the reel.

वो अनकही सी बात...

"वो चुप चाप खड़े एक कोने में

घंटों बस निहारती थी

उस शेल्फ पर पड़ी किताबों के धीर को

निहारना तक तो ठीक था,

पर जब जाती थी उसके करीब तुम

तो सोचता था , की काश,

काश की मेरी धधकन उन किताबों में समां जाती

जान पाति तुम की तुम्हरे देखने भर से

कैसे मेरा heart rate कर लेता था normal को पार

सोचता था , तुम्हे घंटों निहारते हुए उस library में मैं

की ऐसी कोंसी थी बातें , जो करती थी तुम उन किताब के पन्नों से

देखा तो होगा ही तुमने मुझे वहां बैठे हुए, मुझसे आके कुछ कहती, में सुनता बिन पलक झपकाए

कभी कभी ये नाचीज़ सोच बैठता की सिर्फ मेरी तरीकें हैं मेरी attention पाने के,

शायद पगला सा जाता है ये मनन , जब खुद के लिए धधकना बंद कर दे...

जाने कितने ही पन्ने यूँ ही पलते हिं मैंने,

कितनी ही पंक्तियाँ हैं लिख डाली

तुम्हे ताकते ताकते, इसी कुर्सी पर बैठे

शायद ग़ालिब भी एक बार इस आशिक की शायरी ज़रूर देखना चाहेंगे..

हाँ शायरी से याद आया,

वो जो ग़ालिब की किताब में वो शायरी का पन्ना मिला था तुम्हे

जाना चाहती थी उस शायर को जो जाने कैसे करता था किसी की हया से मोहब्बत,

डूब गया था किसी की आँखों की गहराई में इस कदर की मुरजिम वापस निकलने को न था तयार..

दाल दिया था उस किताब में सोचकर की शयद जान लो की वो मुरजिम मैं ही था ...और वो आँखें थी तुम्हारी, वो हया थी तुम्हारी...

काश खुद देने की हिम्मत होती

जब कुछ दिन आई नहीं थी तुम लिब्ररी मैं, तो मचला सा जा रहा था ये मनन, ज़िन्दगी में पहली बार तुम्हारे घर फोने लगाया था मैंने उस दिन.

याद है वो, " can you please return the book you've issued, I need it for my research"

बस बहाना था तुम्हे बुलाने का...

इतना कुछ था कहने को तुमसे ,जानता नहीं था की कैसे करूँ हाल-इ-दिल बयां मैं..

बस, येही कलम थी, और येही पन्ने, इस आशिक का बयां..

बहरहाल सुना है, की कुछ दिनों में लाल जोड़ा पहनने वाली हो तुम, क्या ये...

वाही जोड़ा है जिसमें हजारों बार देखा है मैंने तुम्हे?

हां.. सपने भी ना..."

आज ये Diary मिली है उसकी,

बहार उसे देखने गयी,

तो जनाब नाच रहे थे, बारातियों के साथ...

घर के रहते थे तुम इतने पास

फिर भी फोएँ घुमाया था जिस दिन

सोचा था मिएँ शायद कुछ ख़ास बोलना चाहते थे तुम

हां.. ख़ास..

किताबें सिर्फ पढ़ती थी, ताकने का शौंक नहीं है मुझे,

पर याद हो , तू तुम बैठा करते थे किताबों के पीछे वाली row मैं,

कहते हो की मुझे देखते थे, तो कभी मेरी उस तिर्चि नज़र को क्यों नहीं देख पाए जो तुम्हे मुझे देखता देख , मंद मंद मुस्काती थी...

जान तो गयी थी, की ग़ालिब साहब की आड़ में तुम्ही शायरी को अपना अंदाज़े सन्देश बनोगे..

पर इंतज़ार था वो सब तुम्हारी जुबान पे आने का...

इतनी हिम्मत नहीं थी की खुद का हाले दिल बयां का पाति तुमसे,

हाँ, लाल जोड़े में ही कड़ी हूँ मैं..

जानती नहीं , की तुम्हारे खवाबों वाला ही है के नहीं...

पर हाँ. जिसके लिए पहना है,

ये ज़रूर मालूम है , की वो...

वो नहीं है जिसे खवाबों में मैं देखती आई थी...

हां... सपने भी ना...

I too have a dream!

Deep Inside, In chambers within the chambers of my heart that are visible.

Stemming out of all the dreams I'v had about them, thus far

out of my unexpressed passion to achieve them

out of my unexplored capacities

out of my unrealised potential

Dreams

Thankfully, I never pushed them deep down, and cover them up with the mud of my restrictions and failures and fears

They have always been that deep rooted.

I wonder how , how they survived the failing times,

how they survived when I cleaned my slate of dreams and desires.

how they survived the myriad attempts to Kill all that was inside the heart.

how they survived the ruthless being I had become

how they survived the coldness of my heart

perhaps, i need not contemplate the 'why' and the 'how'

'They did survive' is what matters.

its like that old picture you find, which you'd been looking for. That old crush's phone number, you stole from the school register. That old memory that strikes randomly leaving a smile.

lemme now take charge.

After all, My dreams too have their dreams of seeing the morning Sun. !

Mumbai Local and that thing with him!

" I think we need to move on" Said she He disconnected saying the voice was cracking and he could hear naythin.

this left her confused and awkward in its own right. She after so much of inside struggle had finally confronted him that they needed to separate their ways, they needed to look ahead of their relationship in life which was drawing both of them back, She finally had told him and herself that she wanted to move on, it just wasnt working for her.

but now it was a strange situation she was left with. was it that the guy ignored or more so, intentionally didnt acknowledge what she said or was there,in reality, a network problem. Standing at the railway station, lost in this dilemma, she had already missed her train to Andheri. She was on her way to meet an old friend. He had just returned from a long vacation in Mexico. Mexico the land of enhancement, a land that still held culture, a land of folk and art, a land of People, a land of Latino Musica! Ah Mexico.

She had been a traveler at heart. Right from the time discovery showed this show on travel, and she used to ge up at 8 in the morning to watch that on holidays, to just before her PG time, She had just been traveling and now she had this 'oh so common in a B school photography keeda' as well! Well honestly, she had already been into it, just that she could now flaunt it with her so called DSLR! Anyways, We'd return to her interests and her , in a little while!

So, she had already missed her train to andheri and the next train coming her way was a Bandra on, that gave her more time to ponder over 'what may sound like a normal conversation to anyone outside of radar of what was going on' and she might seem so silly for investing so much of her time in just thinking about it.

so she decided to just sit down. luckily or unluckily, she found a place to sit.

a old women, came and stood beside her. The station was not that empty or that full. She offered her a seat, but the women didnt wish to sit. I would call her aunty for the ease of it and infact that's how the protagonist here, addressed her. So, aunty was a lean old women dressed in a gown so to say. Being from Mumbai She could guess that aunty was a Parsi. yeah, We do assume, we do see people though 'Stereotypes'!

So they started chatting, infact it was more of a monologue! Aunty wanted to speak and decided to do so!

our girl was lost in her own translation of things, but aunty went on!

... to be continued!

We Never Kissed!

We never kissed. except for a few early ones, when the flavour of the month was the 'New found attraction' ,mistook as love by a few. Post that he never really cared bout kissing, since he passed the 'awkward, wait a little, lets not rush' phase.I wanted to kiss. I wanted to feel his love, in the way his lips touched mine, In the way he put his hands around me, in the way it would transcend into passion, the way he would cuddle, the way he would hug , the way he would kiss the forehead.

I used to feel weird, for the kiss that actually drew me towards him, was missing now. Yes, there was more stuff, but i wanted that kiss. I longed for it. It made me feel being cared about, it made me feel being strong with him, it made me restore my faith in love, it made me go in a different world all together, it made me feel that he stepped in the world as me too. Perhaps! our world was same but we were different destinations.

Later he told me, that he's not really into kisses. Once a while, just to please the other was fine. Just Please?The romantic in me died there, again.

Was I going to be, what I had thought I would be..

So, its a guest Faculty teaching some Bla BLa of customer Retention and All i could think of was how have I changed in the last year. From the socially active. revolutionary, argumentative Indian(as I was called), never part of a single group female to this 'stay in group', lethargic, silent, known for her pictures in a Bschool and not much concrete, Girl. (thats all my presumptions). How my focus from doing something for the people, travelling etc had totally shifted to all the jazzed up stuff here, which never really meant anything. How my goals of the things to be achieved in the second year were waiting to be warded the dust off that paper where they were written. How Unclear about Life had I become.

The entire first year didnt give me anytime to comprehend life. Infact, my time management had gone for a toss(which anyways was never too good). The Good part about second year was, it gave me time to think(of course in the classes i.e)

So coming back, to this Guest (Faculty) , that brings me to this other class on design, which more than design management taught me to get my life's design in place and I really have to Thank the prof for that. Staring at the white board for the 45 mins outa the 1.15 hour class, made me think. Think Hard. There was a session in which he asked what you wanted to be. I didnt have the guts to raise my hand, cuz my aimbition in life was wavering. A few years back what I strongly wanted to be, no longer was it hitting hard to come out my mouth as my goal. It hit me! had I in the past few years nto thought even once what I aspired to be! May be a few years down the line? I dont think so.

Lot may people had many things to say, and many choose to remain silent . May be they were in the same dilemna , may be they wanted to be secretive about it, or may be they didnt feel the need to share. But I knew where I was standing. I didnt Know!

what was the way forward.. I tried writing diaries, I tried taking to my self, i tried being awake the entire night to figure out, I tried to concentrate on my goals in life in the classes, i tried Talking .. I still dint know where do I stand. There was this fight within .

Amaltas did help! In the 3 walls and a window side of my room and music from the two sides on, I was going through my pictures. The ones I had clicked. The moment they were clicked in, the settings at times I did for them. The fondness I had for the subject. The want to click more. The light in my eyes before taking a picture. The want to translate my idea of sumthing in a picture. I loved clicking. Clicking on the Go..

I knew atleast something which for sure i was going to take up. PHOTOGRAPHY. people photography, street photography, candid photography... Sure, I gonna find spot for the rest of my aimbitions. I have two terms of classes left !

My Shadow, Free!