Untitled

Would you find me if the world was swallowed up by a black hole?
Would you find me in its pitch dark womb?
while we swam in its celestial amniotic fluid.
What if you did catch a glimpse of me? 
In that blinding darkness.
Because I know you, you know me 
as well as the inextinguishable darkness that burns within us…

Would you find me if the world was spewed out by a star?
in that interstellar cosmopolis of a trillion worlds. 
What if you did catch a glimpse of me?
In that blinding white light.
Because I know you, you know me as well as life.

Would you find me in this world? 
while we, fallen creatures, toiled and labored
and jostled for a bit of blue sky
along with
a million proud Lilliputians
on this ragged, jagged Earth.
What if you did catch a glimpse of me?Because identical twins of an astronomical stella 
That I am You and You, Me.

Untitled

It is the silence, solitude and us. It is not the moon but the dark night spread over You and I, like a mantle. The labyrinthine gullies of Vijaynagar and the carefully mapped Raisina Road unite under one Eve. A Purple Eve, An Orange Eve.

Okay!

Okay?

Okay.

Okay.

…

It’s His smile really. And Hers. And the Music and the Monsoon. Splashing across puddles in shady gullies. Two small hearts, one a little sad and the other a little hopeful. Crumpled shirt and a torn wrap-around and intertwined fingers, under a lone lamppost in an anonymous street.

…

How much she savours this stolen moment 

like a surreptitious kiss,

this equal walk, equal talk,

this promise of the palace of possibilities.

…

Millions of words swirl all around us. They gush forth from my eager heart. They surround us, curtaining us, guarding us from the spiteful world in an underground metro station.

תמיד אהבתי אותך.

תמיד אהבתי אותך.

תמיד אהבתי אותך.

…

Winter was dancing on my window sill the other night while you were sleeping next to me. While the soft light of the Moon was caressing our bare bodies, She whispered cruelly to me , the imminent severance. Helpless as I was, I gripped your hand fearfully and kissed your forehead while you smiled, dreaming of Boeings and Kites.

…

It’s made of Small Things. Little Things and you have to look real hard in order to locate it and when you do, you have to scoop it all out from the dirt and the filth that covers it and treasure it in a small porcelain box with a silver thread and an old rose tucked hastily in a corner.

…

Only,

You are a silent spectre smothering me with your presence, in your absence.

My God of Goosebumps and Sudden Smiles.                                                                                                        

My Monarch from Moon.

…

I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,

The black rain, the white hills,

when once I loved only my happiness and you.