A Feeling Called Love

Dear Hachi,

I hope you’re doing something amazing in the cosmos out there. I wonder if you could see me. And if you could, do you think that we’d ever meet again? This world is so so big, I can’t measure it with my eyes. And in this big world, I have a home that I could not measure with my heart. There are times when I see a panorama of dreams and they are always as vivid as your innocent eyes full of magnificence.

I was at my parent’s place in my dream today, there was a big green mountain just at the back of their home. I was standing on the roof and the end of the world seemed near. In all of this, I could find only one companion by my side- Simba. He too was there in my dream. And ever since I’ve woken up I cannot help but miss him. I wonder if he feels as miserable too. I can write to you whenever I wish, I can talk to Mayank or any of my friends, and let my feelings out. I wonder if that poor feline-lover of mine misses me too, I wonder if he could express it the way I do, freely, fiercely.

Do you know that he’s as precious as you’re to me? He brings the best out of me. I never knew I was capable of this much loving. Leaving him behind and moving to Delhi surely feels sad. I wish I could go back to him, hug him and show him that I didn’t want to, that he’s always on my mind, that I just wish I could hug him every night before I fall sleep. I understand now, maybe you too feel the same, maybe you too wish that we could be together again. But we can’t be. How miserable that sounds, full of a sad melancholy twisting and tiding at our hearts. I wish I could see you for once at least, that will be a soothing breeze to my sore eyes.

I miss my nights where you used to push your body against my skin and fall asleep, no matter how hot the may nights were. The very same way I miss my mornings where Simba would sleep in front of my face, just to wait for me to wake up. And soon as I’d wake up, he would come, start licking my face and make that sound of grave hunger. My mornings just felt right, right by his side. The common thing you both share is that you both slept against my body whole night. In our case, you were gone, and in Simba & my case, it was me who left. Both of you are the two sides of the same coin I call love.

No matter when I flip it, one of you has to show up and then my memories would be dragged from my mind to my eyes, they’ll water. I wish I could express how grateful I’ve been to both of you, you both gave me the right kind of love at a very right time. I know that maybe I’ll never be able to see you again as you were, but I can hope that you’d come to meet Simba someday. Cats are multi-dimensional creatures I’ve heard and so are you. Now that I’m not there, I’d want you to be around Simba, make your acquaintance and don’t fight.

I’ll go back to Simba as soon as I could. I’m sorry that you’re not here and that’s partially my fault. I’m not with Simba, that too is my fault. None of you had a choice, it was always me. But I’ll take care of Simba, you’ll see. I won’t let you down this time. I won’t let him down.

How I can say that I love you when you’re a side of it to me. Give me a sign that you’re hearing me, I’ll wave.

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Dear Hachi,

Feeling of displacement is always nauseating. Our hands, legs and every crackling bone buried deep in the skins rattle up, every tissue feels severely disconnected. You see, I’ve tried my level best not to feel out of sorts, but one cannot control the things one lets control oneself. I wish I had made a wise choice, have I made a wise choice? A choice that leaves one displaced, not a hundred yards but hundreds of miles. Finding home and then just moving away from it takes your nerve and sinew, agitating them to see how strong they could get against the backdrop of eyes that made you feel safe. But honestly, I feel I’m sedimented, perpetual and helpless against the river flow. I wish I could still hold those hands every night before sleeping, touch that dark skin, sink in the same bedsheets, rest my worries in that pillow, look around and feel safe in those walls and wake up, wake up to the comfort of his eyes. It certainly is not easy to leave my place behind just because I have some duties, just because I have a career, just because I have to prove myself to the people. Tell me how is that right? Am I looking for validation? If I could take a bus right now, I’d do it and be in Dharamsala before the night falls. And I definitely could take a bus right now, but I’m a little bit unsure if that’d be wise. I haven’t felt it yet, how it feels to be away from him. Maybe it’ll make us grow stronger. So I’ll stay.

Hachi, things have changed a lot since last I wrote you. I have a cat, his name is Simba, and he is precious. There’s another puppy at home, his name is Bobo, and he’s white just like you. I never wanted to leave Simba behind, but you see, I’m dumb. Dumber than a donkey I suppose. I’m afraid if I’m honest, I’m afraid of losing a thing or two, but I’d always want to go back to my home once I’m done with the work.

I know that you’re out there somewhere, or maybe somewhere around me. Perhaps, you’re at many a places around me. You’re right here in my heart in one way, burning like a beacon. I hope you understand that this shift from trees to Delhi metro feels like cheating, from his face to all the other ones, from feeling to missing.

The beacon that you are tells me that I’ve found something fascinating inside of someone very ordinary and we’re going to be. No one else was going to find that, because it was no one else’s duty. So I know that we’ll make it. I’ll try.

Everything Was Perfect, And Nothing Hurt

The day I first saw you

I knew it will be death of me

I knew I’d long now all my life

I knew I knew no love before

I knew I’d die by your door

Bustling like a flock of songbirds

My heart will change shapes

Sometimes you, sometimes your clothes

Sometimes your smell or your wild passion

I knew I knew no man before

The way I know you by my hands

Mapping your skin like a spring evening

Windy, warm, shelter, home, my burial ground

The skin where my premonitions sink

Your skin where all my kisses find solace

Your skin like the softest bed ever made

By the hands of god, if there is any

Otherwise by the hands of love itself, there it is I know

Your skin where my thoughts linger

Your skin, against my breaths

Your skin against all of my fingers

And my body

And my soul

And my mind

It still wins, it always wins

I knew I’d lose, everyday, every evening

Every moment and every yectogram

That comprises my existence

Every shred of energy that flows through my senses

I’d lose again and again

I must die in your love crooning like a crane.

End of the day

Where from I begin to tell?

My heart for you, my heart, oh well!

Four months and gone, such heavy charm

I dream I lay by your arms.

Just hold me tight when my lips shake

Fall down and crumble, fall down and break.

Oh my man, my muse, my fate,

I wish I hadn’t been so late,

To woo your sorrows and begone

All the monsters you should’ve won.

Your eyes, your lips, your perfect face

Have pushed so many hearts to race.

They say that it isn’t pure,

How can be they so sure?

When hoards of tears we’ve endured.

Who is to say, if I may

Be a man and love a man the same,

To feel his skin, to feel his heart

So fragile as a hurt kid’s art.

Well, they won’t know how it feels

In your arms when my body reels.

Love is love and hate is hate

And being adored in one kind state

Which doesn’t come from all the lust

It takes heartbreaks to feel the trust.

And I found that in your life

Where came to end my endless strife.

So let them burn if they must so

We’ll just wave and let them go.

And if you fear, ever for once

Just know that a man is dunce

And so am I, and so are they,

But you’ll always find me at the end of the day.

दिल्ली

दिल्ली की येलो लाइन मेट्रो के अंडरग्राउंड स्टेशन पर खड़े होते हुए ये गर्म हवा का जो झोंका मेट्रो के आने का इशारा करता है, ये हिमाचल से आने के बाद बेमानी सा लगता है। ये हवा के झोंके ना जाने कितने लोगों की, कितनी जगहों की और कितनी ही सड़कों की गन्ध लेकर आते हैं। सुबह हो या शाम, ये एक सा ही एहसास कराते हैं। जैसे पूरा शहर एक साथ सांस लेने की कोशिश कर रहा हो, ये हवा बहुत कुछ बताती है। इस हवा में कहानियां हैं और मक्कारी भी है। कहीं-कहीं पर तो बेतहाशा हताशा इस हवा में, और फिर उसके बाद मौके हैं। थका देने वाली होती है ये, और लोग थक-हार कर सो भी जाते हैं, लेकिन ये कम्बख्त नहीं सोती एक पल को भी। यहां की हवा उस औरत की तरह है जिसके पति को आतंकियों ने मार दिया हो, और वो बेसबूरों की तरह उन्हीं आतंकियों के बीच अपने पति की लाश लेकर घूम रही हो, जैसे बंदरिया अपने मरे हुए बच्चे को सीने से लगाकर तब तक घूमती है जब तक वो सड़कर गिर ना जाए।

इंसान के पास पैर‌ और चालाकी हैं, इस बदहवास हवा को थोड़ा और पागल बनाकर वो तो निकल लेते हैं कहीं और, कोसते हुए इसे। और ये बेचारी, रोती रहती है, कभी जोरबाग में, कभी जनकपुरी में, कभी समयपुर में, तो कभी नोएडा में।

The Snow Is Gone

As the snow descends your bower,

Do you muse for the haze and cold?

In your sight, the ravens flutter.

Like a barren scape, shell your body holds;

To the cold bones of the mountain high,

Out for the dearth of an incandescent eye,

Rued in the ruins of a rumbling sigh,

Does the snow speak? Does it talk about I?

As the cold covers when I’m not around?

It’s an epiphany of a forgotten feel,

Like an avalanche your body reels.

Oh, does the snow remind you of,

The cold fingers that once ran on?

The cold feet to walk with you?

And a cold heart’s icicle spawn?

Oh my dear, the snow is gone,

So are the muse, the love and songs.

Seams

I saw you in my dream today,

Laughing at me like a summer sun

These trees that rustle now call your name

But leads know you’re on the run.

I sat beside you by the lake,

And looked across the velvet sky,

There’s nothing out there in empty shells

The stars, they burn your auburn eyes.

My lover was there with me to see;

It’s sad to see I lost you though.

Would you have stayed if for once?

You tried to know what now I know.

This rain, these trees and all this place

Sounds damp like a drenched sal,

I hope you knew there’s more to it

I try to bury, ‘we had it all.’

Now you’d not know I miss you still

And take you to my hazy dreams,

Where world is mine and you’re a doll

I keep safe deep in my seams.

Catapults

I could’ve been better with time

But closed doors and open eyes seldom have a visitor

And so do the open doors and closed eyes

I would’ve, if I could’ve been better with time.

Fragile touch of crawling sickness

Nausea in my cells has long been forgotten

As I map my skin, I dismember a lego

Disseminating my breaths in my lungs

Last place for my horrid affliction

And so my mind waits for the benediction

Which never comes even after the storming rain

All the perfumes die in the land of nod,

I could’ve been better with time

But broken mind and unbreakable heart keep,

Coming back to the final caveat

I couldn’t follow for the dubious guts.

I swear I would’ve, if I could’ve been

‘Better with time’, just a connotation

For me, a horrible line of catapults to cross

Ready to tear down my body and soul

I’ll not wait for the time

I’ll not wait on the world,

I’ll let myself dismember a lego

And sleep in the ashes once the world’s done with me.

A Place To Be

She asked, ‘where do you want to be?

‘In the place soothing your aching arms?

The place that calms your nerves?

Do you call it a home?’

‘I found my grace there,’ he said,

‘In two oceans I dived everyday,

And every night I sailed among the stars.

In the lap of the glory I slept.

There’s a place where I forgot my wars.’

‘What does it look like?’ she asked again,

‘Are there flowers? Is there rain?

Do the butterflies flutter all noon?

And eve’ falls with crickets on streams?’

‘Yes, yes,’ he replied as he dived deep inside,

‘I smelled the flowers under the shade,

And felt rain running across the soft terrain,

And I’ve seen the wings that blew all noon

And the bugs lighting up at ocean when sun went vain.’

‘What a mystical world that must be,’

She said, ‘where your heart now goes,

‘Where it rains and snows and grass grows

‘Where you must be if not here.’

‘I must be, if I could,’ he said and coughed,

The black had reached to his lungs and the heart,

Then the breath ceased like a snapped twig

And his head went back to the start.

To the start where he had met him the first,

The eyes, the ocean, the unquenchable thirst.

And in nights they would lit up like stars,

And his thighs were where he found the lost solace.

He was his home,

The one who had a world within

A world that called for eons and eons.

And everytime he died in the loop,

The frail mind led him beyond death

A place from where he borrowed his sounds

And kept searching for the soul he lost somewhere.

Sad Ballads

Sweet melodies of so long,

Void memories in the songs,

Where did my thunder go down

The alley where we don’t belong.

And the cuts the deeper wounds

All the choir of cries hummed

Do we ever know what we hold

Until we keep listening to what we’re told.

And the truth’s never the same here

All these questions in atmosphere

Are they the vapour of our tears?

Or they’re just our sad thoughts?

All our breaths go up in the knots

We keep chasing the fading dots

And some sad poets will write again

Sad ballads of our silence.