Dwarka Dusk

And then the noise died away, fading out into nothingness. As the late-october chill dissolved into the sound of the azaan from the neighborhood mosque, the sweet tinkling of the wind chimes at her 10^th floor apartment notified her of the impending dusk. As she walked up across the hall to latch the door to the balcony, a gush of wind brushed past her face, giving her the chills marking the onset of winters. She looked down, as the amber streetlights started lighting up the busy road. But up here, it looked all different, calm, beautiful. Not a busy, traffic-laden, chaotic city road but, a bigger picture, At a distance, the suave, brightly lit metro train ferried passengers running about the course of their daily lives, a landscape of vast greens dotted by amber streetlights like tiny stars below the skies. set amidst which stood the whote marble mosque, silent, serene, like God’s own exiistence amidst the chaotic suburb. A beautiful picture of nature’s harmony. As the dusk beset deeper, the sky dissolved into her favorite hues of blue, while three tiny pigeons set on their flight back home.

Home. That was the word. Someone else too was expected home. The wait intensifying as she looked out at the street. There was still a while to go.

Having latched the door, she came back to the hall to prepare for his welcome, as she relived their last goodbye five months back. Riots had broken out in a far-off lawless land, over which god was the holiest. Forces of young, vibrant, dynamic soldiers were stationed in the casualty zones by the people condemning the riots from their AC offices. He promised to be back as his lips sucked off those nervous drops of sweat on hers. A lone drop of water had escaped her kohl-smudged eyes then.

Another such drop escaped her eyes now, now that she prepared to welcome him back. He had sounded vibrant on the phone as he expected the riots to subside and be able to return home in a week.

She had dressed in her finest punjabi suit. A black deep neck salvar kameez with a golden border, her eyes lined perfectly in kohl and her waist long her left open to one side of her face. Just the way he liked it. She wanted to leave no stone unturned, to charm him off his wits when he returned from duty. As the dusk grew into a dark starless night and the clock closed to 7, her doorbell rang. This was it, her moment of ecstacy. With a million thoughts, memories, emotions scurrying around in her head, she opened the door with the lustful smile of a newly-wed.

There he was, in a box, wrapped in tricolor.

One Last Drink

He brought the glass to his lips

Sipping the scotch, of pain once again

The familiarity was warm and welcoming

The bitter taste of memories

Albeit long forgotten

Had managed to tickle the taste buds of his heart right away

Holding his drink in his mouth

He relished the bitterness

Remeniscing slowly, pains he had long got over

Memories and pain, like scotch

Only get richer, bitter with time, he discovered

As the night went by

The moon tracing an arc along the sky

His drinks refused to cease

Years of abstinence had made him thirsty for his own pain

The stupor of forgotten love

Fuzzing the horizon of consciousness

As those eyes looked out at him from the laptop screen

Silent, sober, happy

No more words, no more answers sought

And over the night

The frozen lava of worthless tears

Melted for the one last time

And made its way back

To where it belonged!

Tonight was the last night of pain

The last night 

Possibly

The Seeker

As he walked under the sky

Lit by a million stars twinkling in the tranquility of the night,

Like a million dots, when connected

Could give him the answers he sought

The moon smiled upon him 

basking a pitch dark forest, milky white

The garden crickets filling for the intoxicating silence

As he gazed at the outline of the hills ahead and the skies above

This was his moment

A line he oft repeated to himself

Almost always in vain

And tonight was turning out no different

For what he sought, had eluded him yet again

Hours of efforts, plannings and pre thoughts

And this half alive moment

What he wanted to acheive looked him

In the eye

What he sought, was no where to be seen

Or was it?

Was it right there and he simply faced elsewhere

Maybe the answers were right there

Maybe, just maybe, he wasnt ready for them yet

Maybe there were a few lessons yet to be learnt again

Some mistakes yet to be corrected

For a mind cluttered with questions

The traffic of his thoughts had managed to catch up with him a hundred miles away

The claws of relations he had attempted to escape

Had managed to pin him down yet again

And he who ran away to solitude

Wept a tear of loneliness yet again

For he who had forgotten to love himself

Sought love, where there was none

Not for him

The Revenant: Saudade of Delhi

Like a long-lost beloved

She calls me back

And I

I love her too 

Her troughs and crests still haunt my lonely nights

Only this time

Something makes me wary

If the past holds anything to teach

Between two nights of passion, lies a day

The seldom intriguing,

Often mundane, day

When life takes over

When moods govern bonds

When insecurities greet you every morning

When ego shows up accross the bed of roses

And love becomes a load you want to shirk

But, she doesn't give me a choice

Or maybe i do not give myself one

Desires of the body have a court of their own

The heart, the infamous convict

I miss admiring her silhouettes, the dusky skin, the dark eyes against the sinking sun

Not all liquor needs the mouth

Doesn't look too bad a bargain to me. 

And here i lay

On my way back to passionate nights

And meloncholy days

Those i turned my back on

She'll hold on, i know 

I too, shall try

And now that I'm into it

Why the heck not?

Dualities

As he walked down that brightly lit corridor of the mall, His thoughts ventured a few years back in time. Of what was a terrible time to face then Now fitted perfectly into the bigger picture. The answers he had spent years chasing Stood right there in front of his eyes. That beautiful woman and the bespectacled, little girl, trying on outfits at a store a few yards away from him. 

His own little home in the big empty world

He looked, and silently smiled in gratitude

"Hey mister!"

The voice broke his trance. As he turned around, already apologetic for a probable mistaken step, he saw her. Unrecognisable at first but the familiarity about those eyes was unsettling. It wasn't more than a couple seconds that the name flashed in bol in his head. It was her.

"Uh Hi, how have you been?" He blurted with difficulty and a pale face. 

"Very well, you tell me." The smile was back. "Its been long." She continued. 

The face he saw now was quite different from what he had known all these years. The "then" straight hair had now been done up in a casual bun with a tiny speck of vermillion at the top center of the forehead. A pair of spectacles were a new addition reaffirming the workaholic that she was. The red and beige bangles on her arms spoke of a recent marriage. She had lost weight, he noticed. Clad in a black patiala suit with a hint of make up, it was in sharp contrast against the shirts and jeans he remembered her in. He silently looked at her face, her lips moving as she spoke. Yes she looked elegant. She turned her face away to avoid "that" look. He knew. 

But What he noted most prominently, no span of years could take away from her, the twinkle in her eyes. The famous twinkle. 

"Long indeed" He replied almost nervously, "So when did this happen?" He continued to ask. 

"Ohh well I met Akshay about four years ago, we married about an year back"

"Thats nice to know, I wish you the best in life" 

"Same here"

"So are you here with him?"

"Oh no! Just me, regular shopping"

They had never had many words to exchange. A comforting yet awkward silence started to take over. It was broken by the sound of the little girl calling out to him, "Daddy!!" She ran to him, opening her arms as she neared. He held open his arms and lifted her into his arms!! 

"Hi baby" his face lit up like never before. 

Realising the presence of the woman in front of him, he introduced the little girl to the lady.  "This is Nishtha,

Nishtha, say hello to aunty!"

The lady chuckled with a moist eye

"Hi Nishtha, Nice to meet you" she smiled adoringly

The little girl grinned in reply.

"I should probably get going, It felt nice meeting you. Take care"

"Yeah, you take care too"

***

'The idiot had still managed to keep me close to himself' She thought to herself As she walked away from him..

***

"Who was that lady Daddy?"

He closed his eyes and gave his 4 year old daughter a loving peck on the cheek.

"Just a friend baby"

The Girl In The Metro

In those thighs so round as melons

Inviting;

In the bosom full like the mangoes in spring

I could rest my heart to 

peaceful sleep

Her arms could hold me tight enough

The nails digging into my back

While we spent ourselves till no more

In the face chubby as a newborn spake of innocence

And in those eyes, silent, seducing

I found my woman of beauty

Aafreen

As the veil was lifted

And the eye-lids raised

A manifestation of the heavens above

stood before him

So intricately crafted by the One himself

He shuddered to face such immortal beauty

As if the One himself, faced him from those eyes

No lips did move

No eyes did blink

Yet he struggled

Struggled against the shots of silent questions

Struggled for answers never sought

The eyes that looked up to its Creator in prayer

The eyes that looked down to the earth as they blushed

Those eyes that inspire poetry

Those eyes that render wordsmiths speechless

As those eyes continued to look through him

Those big round eyes on the silent face

He felt them penetrate

Penetrate every hidden secret in his head

Every muffled scream in his throat

Every curbed pain in his heart

And all he could, but stand

As those eyes just sat there silently

Probing him, passively

While he confided, like a lamb

He gazed into those pools of black

Deep, solemn and tranquil, 

the new moon night

Outlined in black with kohl

Like a meticulous painting

He stood there

Shivered

Struggled

Admiring the beauty that faced him

Wondering if He was a painter, 

or a poet

And no more than a word escaped his lips

Aafreen