My station would

never have a halt.

-

It seems that the world
revolves around the
whims and fancies
of loved ones
who make us wait.
Wait for that one
phone call
that never came.
A promise that
remained unfulfilled.
The one for which
we waited
our entire lives.

-

Our mind can derive perverse pleasure
from complex relationships
that it creates with simplicity.
That's how powerful our mind is!

-

Silence is the best conversation that we can have with someone we love. We can hold on to the memory of their touch through silence. Feel the power of their love, how soft were their trembling lips when we first kissed. The color of their hair. Everything is best remembered in silence. Even the echoes of their laughter. And their parting words for each other.

Everything memorable in life begins with a silence.

-

Is there any worst feeling in the world than watching ourselves failing miserably, while wanting to live up to the exacting standards of someone we love and admire. And then sliding back into the rabbit hole, that we came from.

-

Take me home.
To those stormy days.
And sleepless summer nights.
To our rainswept red-tiled verandah.
That witnessed changing seasons.
Take me home.
To the kitchen that once smelled of
my grandmother's cooking.
Warped and discoloured pots,
stored inside chipped sunmica drawers.
Take me home,
to my childhood bed.
On which I lay dreaming most nights.
Travelling to unknown cities and towns.
That bed, now long gone!
Take me home to my books, on whose covers
I would sign my name in an illegible hand.
With my favorite pen.
It was a gift from my mother!
She would sign her contracts with it.
My books sold for mere bucks, alas!
Take me home to my beloved toy bat.
That my father had bought for me.
And which legends of cricket had graciously signed.
Just so a young boy could smile.
My only happy memories with my father.
But among my other trinkets, my bat too
was thrown away with the day's trash.
All my little things gone.
Lost to me forever.
Please take me to that home.

-

aborted journeys
with aborted dreams
half written letters
ink still wet on the paper
the apple pie
more than a month old
lying alone
inside the refrigerator door
a month's trash still in the bins
kids half asleep
their innocent faces creased with worry
parents gaunt faced from lack of sleep
empty strollers once warm
are lined up
on wide expanse of open roads
bank accounts active
but not a penny to spend
their suitcases are ready
waiting for the air raid sirens to ring
already overflowing bunkers
ready to take them in

-

The quality of your attention,
will determine
the quality of our love.

It holds the key to
the chamber of
endless possibilities.

It can also decide.
Whether our love.
Will thrive and grow!

Or die.
A slow painful death!
Many times over.

-

Would you believe if I said that
the length of my one single breath,
is how many times I think of you?

Or, would you now try and
trace this love back to when it started?

Looking for flaws in me that would
make you stop loving me.

Know that whatever you may do,
I will continue to breathe.

And think of you!

-

Isn't it incredibly intimate
when we ask someone
to read a particular book,
that we have already read?
Perhaps, we want them
to know more about us
through our readings.
Wanting them to feel our soul.
Secretly hoping they would
see us in a new light.
The way we are!
Maybe start loving us even.
Know what makes us happy.
And what brings tears to our eyes.

-