Cold Cold Winter

So, here we are. Another failed relationship. What happened this time? Well, I can only tell you my version, which of course, won't be the whole truth. There's her version as well, which is as much true to her as mine is to me. Anyway, I'll keep this short.

Five years ago I fell in love with a girl who was headed for a divorce, legally separated. That fact aside, we were just another happy couple. But the court case took too long. We fought about it. A lot. One day, we decided to ignore the fact that there is a divorce happening, and instead focus on being together. Bad idea. That's when the distance crept in. She couldn't talk to me about the one big pain she is going through. I, on the other hand, spoke a bit too much about future plans. She changed cities, twice. For her career, she told me. I read it as she wants to be away from me. I followed her around the country, thrice. We fought. We spoke. We fought. Then we just got tired. And gave up.

Lawrence Durrell said, "There are only three things to be done with a woman - you can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature".

Text Messages

Every time we exchange text messages, every time, out of the blue,
I feel you reaching out. Do you not feel the same way too?

Here's a funny meme, that describes you so true.
LOL. Smiley face. So, what else is new?

Didn't you start work today? How was it? How are you?
The new office is good. Oh BTW, guess who I bumped into?

Ten minutes of conversation, and then the pain starts oozing through.
Five years of being together, and that's all we can make do.

Take care. Be good. Move on.. I say, but don't wanna hear no adieu.
Just tell me that you're reaching out. Because here, I'm reaching out too.

The Cardboard Box

There’s an old cardboard box in my room somewhere,
Probably a remnant of something I got delivered from one of these online stores.

Some days it is plain brown, with a fading blue logo I can’t read anymore,
On other days it has pink wrapping paper on it, and little grey smiling elephants.

Every night I put away my stories in that box... the good, the bad, and the boring,
And I’m careful to shut the flaps tight, so that they don’t spill out and fade away.

You see, this is the longest that we haven’t spoken to each other,
And I’m worried that when we do meet, we won’t have anything to talk about.

Because we will meet someday, maybe years from now,
Talk about our respective lives, a normal conversation without any awkward pauses.

I’ll ask you about your new friends, your music sessions, your dance classes,
Tell you about my job, my football practice, everything...

Just enough chit chat, to make you smile,
And keep me from saying out loud... I never stopped loving you!

Possessive Much?

Okay, so here's a thought.

Let's say you love someone. To me, that means you think that the person is a wonderful human being.. that she is capable of spreading positive vibes, such as happiness and joy and love. Ergo, there will be others who will think so too.. there will be others who will love her too. Right? So, what's this thing called jealousy that couples talk about?

A certain someone once had told me, "You're the world's least possessive boyfriend". And I think I had replied, "That's coz possession implies ownership. I never owned you. I'm just happy to know you."

Or something like that. I dunno. It was a long time ago.

Early Morning Flights

"Why do you always book early morning flights?", she asked in exasperation, her nose all scrunched up.

"Because then I get the entire day at my destination", I replied.

"No, you don't. You can't sleep all night because you're scared you'll miss the flight. You can't sleep in the plane because your legs don't fit in those tiny seats. Basically you fuck up your entire day. You're an idiot."

"I love you too. Now go back to sleep. I'll call you when I reach."

I Scream

My little nephew was coming home for lunch, so maa asked me to go get some ice cream. On the way back, maybe because I was dangling the flimsy plastic bag a bit too much, it ripped right through the middle. Eight cups of butterscotch ice cream went tumbling across the asphalt. As I bent down to pick them up, I see from the corner of my eye, an elderly gentleman walking up to the crime scene. Let's call him bhadralok number one. He stops right in front of me, and exclaims to an unseen audience "the plastic has ripped". Enter bhadralok number two. He says "eeesh, yes indeed, the plastic has ripped, and the ice cream has fallen out". While I try my best to gulp down a sarcastic retort, bhadralok number three announces "polythene bags should be banned, they are harmful to our environment". There's a collective groan of approval from the crowd. Oh yes, a crowd has formed by then. And all this in the span of less than a minute, mind you. Then comes fat sweaty kakimaa, wiping away the extra talcum powder on her neck with the edge of her saree. She looks into her big shopper, pulls out a bunch of plastic bags, throws one at me, and walks off. Before I can mumble a thank you, she's gone. And so has the crowd. Dispersed into the city called Kolkata.

Work Culture

Ten years ago, on an October afternoon, a bunch of kids fresh out of engineering college were bundled into a bus, and asked to report at the Tech Mahindra (then Mahindra British Telecom) Chandivali office. We reached Mumbai late, greeted by the heavy rains that this city is so famous for. It was after office hours, and our point of contact from admin had left for the day. Drenched, confused, and tired, we struggled for the next couple of hours figuring out what the hell we were supposed to do. But none of us complained. We were busy making new friends, gulping down vada pavs, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.. everyone a little too excited to actually be in the city that never sleeps.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again - if you haven't lived in Mumbai, you don't know what "work culture" means.

Thump Thump and Bump...

A little sparrow flew into my life once,
Well, not flew, exactly... she just nosedived,
Thump, thump, and bump.

Lost, hurt, and confused, she fit in my palm,
I fell for her barely audible nasal chirp that day,
And promised love.

Yes, like an idiot, I promised love,
My commitment, my attention, my time,
To a sparrow.

But sparrows don't eat from spoons,
One day, she found herself again...
And flew away.

And all I was left with was a song,
A song that still plays in my heart today,
Thump, thump, and bump.

Quarter Past Five

The blanket, fresh from the dry cleaners,
Because she gets cold at night,
And hates sharing.

The TV subscription, upgraded,
Because she needs to know we have all channels,
Even if she’ll watch just one.

The plug socket right next to the bed, repaired,
Because she wants her phone fully charged,
While it stays under her pillow.

The white bathroom slippers, the pink sleep shirt, the green towel...
They were all ready at 5:15pm,
Only you weren’t.

What Do You See?

woman, i've heard you dream a lot about the sea..
but in those dreams.. what exactly do you see?

do you see a setting sun spread dull orange flames across the sky?
do you see a few wispy cirrus clouds fading out as they say goodbye?

do you see a flock of unknown birds fly past in a mad scramble to get home?
do you see uninterrupted waves crash into the sands and spit out their foam?

do you see a lone crab scurrying sideways, seemingly unsure where it wants to go?
do you see that one broken shell, hidden, almost waiting to hurt your little toe?

woman, i've heard you dream a lot about the sea..
but in those dreams.. do you see me?