Playing Hide and Seek

Don't you see, love?

The black depths of your blindfold
And how you must have looked
Smiling through the blur
Hoping not to lose

So you counted to one hundred
And then one hundred and one
Before you heard them scramble
Heard him run, run, run

Now you're playing in an empty house
And find this rag won't untie
You don't know how to choose;
Whether to seek or alone hide

Growing Up Again

Grow,

From the ground,

Up, up let's shoot,

Unfold the first,

Unfold a second,

As you bring your crayons,

To green,

Green and new,

The leaves that will conclude,

To a flower, 

A flower to fruit,

To sweet, sweet honey,

To little baby girl you,
Cry,

Cry little child,

Of mine, Of mine, 

Then love, 

Love only to lose,

Lose everything, 

And watch life, 

The one you picked to choose,

Choose to watch and age,

Play with your hair,

Taste the November rain,

Rain, to frost, to sweat,

Age,

The mirror has changed,

Tricks turned old, 

Goodbye, say it again

Then stop,

Now drop,

To die,

Let me bury you,

Your hair, 

Your heart,

Your cold; cold feet,

With nothing left to dare,
Melt,

Your skin, 

Once cleansed with milk,

Look how it melts,

Look how it crawls,

Some eaten,

Some rotting,

Some turning into dust,

Dust that travels,
Travel, 

oh how you travel,

Through the earth,

Through time,

Through my mind,

And pause only,

When I'm fast asleep,

Asleep and there you are,

Your home,

In my dreams,
Wake,

I'm waking to your wake,

But you're so busy,

Busy making your way,

Up, up above,

As you spring up again,

From my waste,

All the way to my window,

Where I can see you now,

See you,
Grow.

Checkposts

I named this section. I chose the words. Spirit, travelling, all mine. Yet it is now that the words fail me. It is now, that I must own up to the deed. Yes, it was me. No, it doesn’t help. Names, ideas, possessions, all have been stripped away to tell you this, right now. There is only one life, one truth, one journey, one moment, one choice that defines the one you in this time and space. Fortunately for me, all five wrap up neatly in what is, to travel.

So what was it, that I searched in the violet dawn that breaks at 16,000 ft of the mighty Himalayas or in the big orange fish I spotted in the depths of the Indian Ocean? What was it that intrigued me in the dense mangroves of the Andamans or the more festive annual flower show in Gangtok?  Who was that girl, looking at me from behind the vibrant mirrors of her veil as my feet dug into burning dunes of sand? And what did the old man see in my future, as he squinted hard at my palm over bread and qahwa? Was it Vlad with his bright red bobble hat, who cornered me into skiing down from the highest gondola stop? What book was I reading with my feet immersed in the cold morning-waters of the Ganges? Did bhaiyya manage to fix the car stereo which played Bhojpuri versions of popular Bollywood songs, as he drove the spiritual to Kushinagar? Why are the first showers of the blue Kumaon mountains forever etched on my skin? Why can I still summon the prayer wheels from the monastery where young boys in red and yellow, had sat down to perfect their Tibetan? Would Muskaan be taking the ferry to school as I write? And how long can one revel in the love-affair that was the City of Lakes?

The questions go on, quite akin to how I imagine myself extending infinitely in spherical dimensions. To travel, then means to reach out and seep into the cosmos. To travel, then means to be everything I can, in a time and space.

Do I sometimes seek for a centre, an anchor to keep me safe? Do I keep track of my affections and the objects they pick? Do I crave for a home, a place to call my own? Of course, just like those who never moved outside their quaint townships, never did quite leave.

It lingers, just a little too long, before I pack my bags and hit the road again - something old, something new. To really express gratitude and dance to the sunshine, the wind, the skies, the rain, the sounds, the bonfires, the woods, the snowflakes, the colours, the stars, the dirt – to not have a home, to belong to them all. Some faces have lingered - the glee that knew no fear, the dreams in those eyes, the silent words she mouthed. Some promises made, some jars broken, some secrets revealed, some buried. 

Trust that instinct, stake what's yours, roll the dice - lose. 

Tell me then, won't you repeat?

Blue-Blue Skies

3 years and many-many grey-scales later, I find myself absent. From my own life, from my own time, from my own space, from my own aspirations. And if not here, where am I? Lithium in my system seems to slow everything down so now I am a part of everything, I see everything, I hear everything, I sense everything. But I am not here, so where am I?

The Good In Goodbye

There are some moments in our lives that remain imprinted in the depths of our memories, like the vivid strokes of a master’s brush, every colour; every trice of the painter’s anguish clearly visible on the canvas of thought. I wrote about snowflakes, but the truth is it never does snow where I stay. My vivid moment wasn’t painted in colours, but loud voices and shrill thoughts.

Togetherness doesn’t always feel the greatest. The people we choose for ourselves will do the unpardonable, the unfathomable, the ‘shocking’. But if we did choose in our honesty, honesty to ourselves at the very least, our choices will require us to show courage in the darkest hours. So when tomorrow comes and the dawn breaks, we have someone to watch the sunrise with.

Those on the faraway ship will then drown, to which we will just turn our backs and walk the white sands - glad to be ashore, glad to be home. 

One

Look for the stars
And I’ll spin you a dream
We can walk through the winds,
And kiss in the rain,
And burn with the skies,
And dance in the dirt...

Let me up close, to your abyss
So we can spin, and then spin some more
As we shed away these clothes,
And leave behind this wretched skin

Oh, dear lover, don’t close your eyes then,
Don’t find your feet or the ground
For we left that world, a long time ago
When we had swayed to the sacred songs
Of love and loss and hurt
And the Gods themselves had stopped to ask,
Who were those two, or was she just one?
That blessed mortal, who with her lover spun,
Who with her lover, lived.

Winter 2007

The cold as it dawns,

Into the night as it becomes

Are you the memory that it brings?

It's dark, but for the warmth of that winter sun

When you and me, had laughed

When our dreams were together spun.

So where will this season take us now?

Where do you think will it abandon?

For lovers, we weren't ever

And yet, nothing else seems to less offend.

Sun-Drenched

Bring me the sun,

Ring it here close

So my lashes kiss its heat

So the world may singe its hold

It's alone, it's above,

What a perverse scrap of gold!

So it's begging me to bolt

So it's following through my door

Bring me the sun,

As it falls from its throne

So my lashes keep it warm,

So it gets through the cold

It's alone, it's above,

And now it's getting kind of bold

So I watch it rise as morning smoke

So I resign to getting this very old

Deer In The Headlights

I've never tried harder, never been more still

Did never speak, sought no feeling before

And yet look at me now

As I fear not the car, not even the lights

But only not getting hit, while I might still be alive;

While I might still manage to cry

Perhaps just even squint the last of this eye.

Deer in the headlights,

Oh dear, in the headlights.

A Ceiling Existence

It's difficult to word it out to someone who hasn't been there. You don't care if you don't eat, if you don't comb your hair in weeks, if you don't get out of bed. Ever. Staring at the ceiling is your salvation, but only till it comes crashing down. You hear it groan, feel it quiver. And yet when you wake up from being awake all along, it's still there waiting for you to stare at it, through it. Till your eyes shut into consciousness again, till the roof seems to fall again. You haven't seen a mirror or another person in days. The silence is deafening, the ceiling; on repeat.

Dance, won't you?