a little romance with life

I dove deep down yesterday, under a pile of books Looking for a poet who had been lost since days I found her hidden in a corner, behind a page Chewing on a word- ‘lonely’ She had tears in her eyes She too had been searching for me. I sat with her for a while, on the edges of her book Our backs resting on the walls of a poem she had written I was with her, listening to her tales of sadness Of words that had left her Of feelings that no longer inspired poetry Of the ache she didn’t want to write about After a while, she sang to me old poems Those that were written during a happier time. When I was leaving, I picked my poet up Thought I’d keep her in the front pocket of my shirt Right in front of where my heart was But her home was in those pages, her soul in those words So I settled her on a nice cozy bed of a brand new page Promising her happy dreams And a dose of hope, to help her write again.

I know ‘right before the exams’ is a crazy time for me Sometimes beautiful and sometimes incredibly difficult Sometimes all about poetry that flows through my blood in those days Sometimes the hollowness of my room, sometimes of my thoughts Sometimes the emptiness in my heart, and sometimes how full I feel because I took more time than usual in finishing a meal that would otherwise be over in less than 10 minutes; the slowness comes in the avoidance of books that I love but hate because I have to glance through them fast and I can’t taste them slowly and swallow them with joy; the way I enjoyed my food today. So I glance at them and look away, at the choices I have made Of distant poets and story tellers and lovers of words whom I love and I stare at their lives so deeply with tears in my eyes wondering if they ever feel the way I feel sometimes; and if I will ever feel the way they do; and if ever somebody else will wish to feel the way I feel today ...

Right across my room lives the boy who creates music; dham dham badampam dham dham giving me wanted and unwanted sounds all day dham dham dham dham; and inside the room I can see him his specs staring hard at the screen, his face wearing a smile; dham dham dhadam dham bam “Would you like to listen to my new piece?” he says “Nahhhh, I haven’t got the time”; dham dham “aacha chal jaldi se suna” He’s the guy who gives background music to my life. But this boy who creates music doesn’t really know that he creates so much more. he creates joy for those struck with sadness and laughter for those who have been serious too long he creates sparkles in eyes he makes complete opposites stick along he creates food everybody loves and the best chocolate coffee I have ever known he is everything that is right with me and everything that is wrong, corrected, and then rolled into one. He is crazy plus innocent like a recipe made of chocolates and m...

Like saying ‘hello’ when meeting a treasured friend Like hugging the warmth of the sunshine Like warm feelings that had been tucked away under warm clothes kept in care for colder times Like reasons to let people come closer Like excuses to hold them tighter Like a short day that begs to be lived to the fullest Like a star-filled night that refuses to get over You come back to me like an old lover You whisper in my ears long forgotten songs You play with my hair You tickle my heart with your gentle breath You fill my mind with your scent. You come to me like an old lover who will one day say goodbye again.

There are promises that you make to yourself that will change the way you live your life; and sometimes you will be able to see as you make them; other times it’ll be years before you knew you were following a mantra a motto, or something; and when you look back it’ll shine through everything you have ever done and you’ll love it or hate it; but years later, you won’t be able to do anything about it. I have made some promises too. Like the promise I’ve made to never regret the evening I spent swept in the arms of something I love; like reading poetry Or listening and singing along to songs in the happiest voice, Like the day when I chose to ignore a pending assignment so that I could go and listen to two old men, both poets as they recited words weaved in magic, casting a spell on me And the wonder I felt when I saw them grow young in the span of an hour or so. And I will never look back with contempt or anger at the things and people that on...

I feel cheated on, today Because there is someone else out there who is Living my life—wearing the shoes I would have picked had I gotten to the store first; and in clothes that actually belong to me; telling stories that are hidden in the corners of my heart And I don’t know how she knows, but she knows And she flies, while I float around today, holding on to temporary anchors as I search for wings. Because there are no words for the things I feel And reasons for what I feel, but I feel, so much About so many things—like when I cross the road And stare at faces that say to me- “you know, I have an interesting story to tell”; and when I see mothers holding daughters as they cross roads and on the other end, daughters holding their mothers who are children again, once their job is done And how I laugh and smile and cry Because I can see the circle of life; but there is no one word Or even many, that can ever describe the warmth I feel That som...

Cheers to the being who does not keep A hidden box at the top of the closet Or in some corner of the heart Or in its mind Where it is covered By the cobwebs of memory A box that contains bits and pieces of paper Words and dialogues Quotes and lyrics Photographs of smiles And pictures of views Letters that haven’t been opened in years And phone numbers that will never be used Pens whose souls left them When their inks ran dry And papers who knew they had died When dust came to reside on them Where once fingers touched, And tears smiled. A box The box The most dreaded box The most loved one The one there But not really. Cheers to the being Who can let it go Who can but throw Away the things That matter no more. And I will come looking for you soon but I have a box as of now to look after.

Have you ever felt so happy in a moment Maybe after a phone call that lasted not more than 600 seconds But made you smile all day after that Because every once in a while, people say the sweetest things And the euphoria in that minute makes you feel That no riches in the world Could make you even half as happy as you feel today Have you ever felt so complete for a second That you thought that life is most perfect in the now And that joy came from nothing but a rooftop That showed the wide sky to you With clouds that looked like cotton candy In the company of people you love too much And the sounds of songs that sound much better in their voices Than they ever did on tv Have you ever felt the warmth of a person When they hug you in a hurry and you know that both of you don’t want to leave so you just stay there, holding each other and smiling in each other’s ears wondering that throughout the years you had waited for this time to come an...

She was walking on a way So confident and bold  She loved it so crazy  She could have walked till she grew old  She walked a little longer  She walked a little more  Before she asked herself What does she really want? It was a straight path, really And she could have walked and walked But how would she then discover The joys of being lost? Two roads diverged in the woods Seems too old now And it isn’t about the path I want to choose Its about the million roads that lie ahead of me Each more wonderful than the next Each that terrifies me more And the silent scream In my heart Because I don’t want to chose Just one  Or any At all.

I was scared Once A long time back Or so it seems Of being hurt, Scared so bad That I couldn’t let anyone Come close to me. Then you came along And I feel warmth And strength And faith And hope Somehow I’m scared no more. But Now I have New things to be scared of And today I feel most scared Of myself Because When you stand by me All weak and soft Telling me things you tell no one And believing in me Not to hurt you The way I look at you I’m terrified Of the me That’ll want to pinch you Slowly And deep Into the part of your heart That needs most To feel loved.

I love a lot of poems And stories And people And things That break my heart I love them despite it and Sometimes, I guess, I love them for it.

Thinking of all the things I think will make me happy But what if one day By a swift move of some fairy godmother’s wand Or some blessing Or by sheer hard work I do get all of it And what if it doesn’t make me as happy As I thought it would? What if all the people and places and pictures Can’t destroy the fire burning my soul And what if all the music and dancing Doesn’t tire me at all And what if I keep looking for A place called home? What if I tell myself That the true days of joy are somewhere ahead And for now not laugh a lot And what if in reality Maybe the time to be happy Is now?

I told him he was a man of a few words he said "Yup, I know."

Hold on to things that give you meaning The rest don’t belong in your home Your heart, your mind, your life Hold on to things that make you learn Make you grow, make you yearn The rest don’t belong. Hold on to things that make your life Not the ones that ruin it Or make it sad Hold on tight And tighter To things And people That will make you smile When you think About them 10 years from now The rest Just don’t matter.

I wonder what happens when The light hugs the darkness And the smile kisses the tears Who melts into whom? Does the darkness grow lighter Does the light become dark? Does the smile turn away the tears? Or do the tears leave a mark? And what happens when a person is in love And the other is not quite so Who decides whether it’ll reach an end? Or it’ll be love forever for both? I don’t see how these things mix When opposites come to interact From different ends of the city And from far away points in the mind To bring to each other What the other has never seen And become for each other What they have otherwise never been.

I have the perfect painting in my hand With all the right strokes, from all the correct angles The figures are beautifully made And the shades are just right The paints mix in the ideal way And it’s neither too dark nor too bright, I love it when I look at it I miss it when I look away, My perfect painting Then you come along You show me how one stroke is wrong And how I missed an angle by 5 degrees That figure has a hand too big, and that nose doesn't look too real How a pink would have been better than red there And how it’s a little lighter than it should be And I know you are right It is not perfect But I would have loved you more If you would have just let it be.

The worst taste in the world is not of curry with too much salt Or of coffee with no sugar Not of a chocolate when you eat it an year after it’s expiry Or of your chicken when it is undercooked The worst taste isn’t of a bitter vegetable that was churned and churned to get a bright green juice to heal your upset stomach The worst taste is of anger as you swallow it deep down Where it stays longer than you want it to And of its little pieces that stay in your mouth with a taste that lingers just to torture you.

Sitting on a bean bag placed on my balcony With the sound of my favorite music playing in the background And my annoying little brother trying to correct every single word I write. But still I write. Because from where I’m looking the building right in front of me is as tall as my hand And the person walking on the road is not even one finger tall So I sit and measure everything from where I’m seated The trees, the cars And I try to look at tiny little smiles But people are just too damn far And I think of other places where I can see the world through such different eyes Wondering why I don’t go there more often.

I want to write a poem on wet mud Not flowers, or love, or how I feel But just on plain wet mud Because to my eyes it reminds Of the delicious color Of my favorite chocolate And to my nose, the favoritist smell in the world A scent that gives Such immense, such intense joy To my mind it brings back memories Of rainy days And of those childhood times well spent Wrapped in mud Dancing and laughing It reminds me of the earth Where everything comes from And will go one day Wet mud Because when I take it in my hand It can become anything I want A snake, a pot, a clown Wet mud And how it gives life To all the beautiful trees I love And I realize That I have stared at the sky too often And too long looking at the stars And thinking of places where I don’t belong And now I stare at this mud And I know it’s there I can touch it, feel it, smell it, see it And as I touch and smell and see I somehow become Closer t...

I hold a record for falling in love With people Whom I’ve never looked in the eye And being so far away from them That we never even shared The same air And because I never knew them as people I dug as much as I could from afar For more things about them That I could love with all my heart But more often than not I just fell for a piece of them Just one single part Like the guy I loved because I loved his voice And the jingle in his laugh The way all words sounded So much more beautiful As they came out of his lips And so it didn’t matter to me what he said Because I was already in a daze I loved another two or three For the thoughts they had The way their words would rhyme as they spoke Like every sentence shared its heart with the other And like words got a whole new meaning And I was but a student Trying to learn their magical art I hold a record for falling in love With people So deeply and with all my heart But ...

Tied to so many people so tightly without really knowing the quality of the rope.

It is okay to be alone and it’s okay if you can’t love everybody It is absolutely okay if you feel sad or angry and it is alright if sometimes life seems unfair. It is okay to feel lonely when you sit by yourself and wish there was someone by your side and there is nothing wrong if you can’t do every damn thing you decide. It is okay to be stupid sometimes and make a really bad joke it is okay if you can’t say every little thing with a voice that isn’t broke. It is okay if your shoulders slump on a day you feel too low and don’t worry so much about tiny or big things or if sometimes you don’t like the flow. It is okay because you’re still awesome and you will eventually get up and shine but it is also okay to let go of things and just rest for a little while.

I have felt anger in its cruelest form and sometimes its way more right than wrong.

If I needed to be saved I would have cried for help. If I needed to be loved I wouldn't have let you go. If I needed to feel complete I’d never draw half a picture. If I needed for you to hear my voice I would have sung my song. If I needed for you to fall in love with me Maybe you would have. But I don’t, I don’t, I just don’t want to.

I love 4 o clock in the morning when I can sit in the dark and write on a piece of paper with a pen I can hold but not see and scribble words without thinking too much. I love 4 o clock in the morning when it is so quiet and empty that it's possible to smell the ink of my pen and hear the sound of my handwriting and see the outline of the paper through my fingers. I love 4 o clock in the morning when a thought that had been sitting in a corner all day can finally come to light in the dark. I love 4 o clock in the morning it’s the most beautiful hour when you talk only to people who matter and when you think of things that are most important to you. I love 4 o clock in the morning because though technically you’ll say that it’s morning and a new day is beginning For me, it's just the calm peaceful end to a day full of chaos. I just love 4 o clock in the morning. P.s- as a rule, anybody who writes should...