For months we could barely speak,

Barely touch each other,

Wind out of our sails,

Ashamed of our mutual failure.

 

Reeling from the unshakable feeling,

That we could’ve done better,

That we didn’t quite rise to the occasion,

That apologies now don’t matter.

 

Conversations that began politely,

Ended awfully in recriminations;

Unable to recover what was lost,

We parted ways, aborting our mission.

 

I’ll admit, I miss you,

But can’t bring myself to call,

Well for a lot of reasons,

Acrimony least of all.

 

Sometimes I look you up,

And once I even pressed dial-

Your voice was both foreign and familiar,

Couldn’t say a word though, despite all my guile.

 

I miss your voice,

I miss the myriad conversations,

About things both important and mundane,

About silly dreams and unrealistic ambitions.

 

As much as I have moved on,

I still yearn for our companionship.

Someday may be, we can begin

A second stage friendship.

 

How I long for that profound connection,

Linking us like a long rope!

How I wish for something physical,

Stretched and pulled, but never broke.

 

When I tug it on my end,

I wish you could feel it on yours.

Reminders of what we had,

I wish could be eliminated by force.

 

 

 

I’ve done it before.

But it still is as slow,

As sad, and difficult,

To end a friendship,

From days of yore.

 

It’s a long story-

We’re not friends now.

Beyond reparations, apologies,

And blame games,

We’re now a memory.

 

Only if I were a better person,

More generous, less self-involved,

Braver! But I’m neither,

So no use trying,

And there you’ve your reason.

 

Years later, if we rendezvous,

I’d no longer blame you,

But I’d not forget.

I’ll wonder if you’ll do it again,

I’ll be scared to be left alone with you.

 

I agree I’ll miss you.

I expect I will.

But the problem is,

You were right, always,

That’s why I can’t forgive you.

 

There is this girl

I’m talking about,

This was her, just before

Her world went upside down.

She put her feet in shoes,

That didn’t quite fit.

She lost herself,

Bit by bit.

Deluded but smug,

She dwelt in a black box;

In that deep well,

She settled among the frogs.

She was quick

At writing people off;

She knew it all,

And called you malformed.

Holier than thou,

She said she’s a friend!

(Who touched raw nerves

And forgot to mend.)

This is that girl

Who forgot kindness,

But true to its nature

Life put her in her place.

We are all guilty of something.

Leaving the windows open, so the aliens get in.

We are all leading double lives.

Across the broken glass, we let the fingers slide. 

Secrets have a way of coming out.

All that you love and value, burns to the ground.

We’ve all got skeletons in the closet,

Locked with a key that is misplaced.

We’ve all sown our share of wild oats.

We all take trips down the wrong roads.

We are all ignoring the wake up call.

The ground feels less rough with each fall.

We’ve all been blinded by reveries;

Jumped through hoops, been show ponies.

We are all in a clandestine affair;

Running from what’ll catch us, sooner than we’re aware.

Damn this fly!

Got nearly crushed between his fingers,

Yet continues buzzing around,

What makes it so tenacious of life?

If the brave lack the balls to run away,

Why am i labeled a coward for fleeing?

Try asking the runners if their legs are fuelled

By fear or by courage, is what I’d say.

Desire being a form of praise,

Should she return the favor between the sheets?

Take the batteries out of the moral compass,

Give in to the forbidden urges, and be led astray?

Let the sleepwalker sleepwalk,

Let the whore alone be blamed,

For the wreckage of the home,

Remove the brakes, speed over the roadblocks.

When the genie escapes

Out of the bottle,

When the dust takes

Too long to settle,

When skids are hit

Over something so little,

When secrets come to light

Leaving us brittle.

Is the unsavoury new hue

Our true colour?

Are we like the dog, circling

In pursuit of the tail, post a shear?

Do the holes in our souls

Plan to gape at us for ever?

Can the uphill climb

Get any steeper?

Every time his iPhone’s screen flashed her name and that personalized ringtone buzzed, he knew she was making this call by sneaking out of everyone’s attention. The photo reminded him of his 24th birthday, which they had celebrated together. It was not his first birthday in which she was present, but it was his first birthday spent with her as a couple.

The fact that they were seeing each other was known to all. What wasn’t common knowledge, was their crazy love for each other; in reckless abandon, the two young souls were so much into each other that they could not imagine being away for a single day. He had a solution for every problem of hers. She had a smile for every frown of his.

When she got to know about her promotion, she knew she had to tell him first, before she could tell her husband. Little awry of the time, it was eleven in the night in Boston, she dialed his number. Akash was still working and he knew Shruti too well to have guessed something special must have happened in her life.

‘Hello!’

‘Hi Akash! I am so sorry to have called you so late. But I wanted to tell you I have been promoted to the role of Operations Head for the Pune office. I am so happy.’

‘That’s great news, Shruti! Really, your hard work has paid off. You absolutely deserve it.’

Last time he felt so relieved was when he got the most profitable client for his company.

‘I wish I could show you how happy I am.’

Her eyes sparkled.

‘I can understand.’

Distance and business had taught Akash to be precise.

‘Shruti if you are done with your phone call, can you please prepare some breakfast? I’m hungry.’

‘Okay, Akash. I got to go. Take care. Bye.’

‘Bye, Shruti. And congrats once again.’

The unspoken emotions left them high and dry. For the ones who have ever been in love, it should not be difficult to understand how Akash saw the twinkle in Shruti’s eyes from eight thousand miles away (7,669 mi to be exact). However, for Rakesh it was not important to ask his wife about the envelope, with an embossed ‘Congratulations’, that lay on the dining table.

Shruti didn’t feel bad as she knew the person who would appreciate her achievement already knows about it. Clearly, her marriage has not changed the way things used to be, five years ago.

Nose to the grindstone by the day,

He keeps himself immersed in work till his eyeballs,

And when there isn’t enough of it,

He contemplates a slash, on each damned wrist.

If only he could sleep for a hundred years,

Or be oblivious of his existence,

Or not exist at all,

If only it all stops spinning, before he cries foul.

He ponders losing himself in a sea of faces,

None bearing a resemblance to his own;

Call it morbid, or label him escapist,

He pictures a line oozing red on the wrist.

They like to call him a manager’s delight,

While he is only trying to digest gum;

Her kiss came close to melting it all away,

But the difficult bra is the memory that seems to stay.

He finds respite in being the figure in the distance,

A mere speck now, he likes it all glazey,

Tired of doubting everything about everything,

Benumbed, he lets the walls squish him in.

In a lonely room, pins and needles quiet,

He looks for a straw yet to be clutched at,

He thinks, of the friends he should have missed,

And a slash, on each damned wrist.

I walk to my room,
I close the door,
I put my head under my pillow;
I feel sorry about the overdose.
I let the quiet put things,
Where they are supposed to be,
It shouldn’t matter where I’m going,
As long as i choose my battles carefully.
I didn’t mean to start anything,
That I couldn’t see through till the end;
I meant every word i said,
Believe me, they were all heartfelt.
But you’ve got to understand,
I was high then,
Please do not take me so seriously,
That would save you the pain.
You’re all over my mind now,
In rapid movements, as i turn and toss –
In you I see another cavity,
That I can’t bring myself to floss.

Gazing at the great map of life,
Recovering from the throes of sore and slashed love –
She discovered a beautiful life truth,
That changed the very way she thought of the powers above.
The first stab being endured in the bloom of early youth,
Witnessing her prayers fall on a deaf ear of an entity so vain;
Her deepest empowerment being realized,
In her darkest moments of acute pain.
Tragically young, shackled by her pressing insecurities,
Left alone to fight the daily doses of hatred administered at home,
In a drunken haze, packing a baggage too heavy for her small body,
She left home, with a suitcase of unresolved issues, and a fragile soul.
On learning that prayers won’t keep the lost afloat,
She never folded her arms or bowed her head again to pray,
She learnt to swim through the dark and dangerous waters on her own, (she learnt)
The so called loving arms of the reputed God, are frail.