31st of March

Don’t mind me, I am just standing here with my cat, 

breathing in the scent of rain kissing parched earth. 

Gazing with wonder as each bolt of lightning silhouettes the trees, 

and the leaves glisten with joy, smiling back at the dancing clouds.

Summer rain

They clouds make an intense gray canvas, 

and yet they paint the earth with strokes of rain.

We see what happens to the ground, we smell the fragrant joy. 

But I wonder what happens on the cloud when raindrops form, 

what art happens on the dark side.

Dry leaves rushing across the street, 

like teens for a concert.

The breeze urging me to fly, knowing I cannot if I tried. 

The rain cloaking me from this teasing, caressing my brow, 

saying it’s alright.

Climate Action

Watching pebbles that water has disowned,

on a parched dry river bed.

Butterflies dancing in sunflower blooms next to highways, 

with diesel fumes dropping dead.

We humans with our arrogance, 

keep believing this is just ours, in our head.

#ClimateAction

No recourse

The proud full moon tangled in her hair,
helpless but to slide along each strand,
spinning gold.

Some of the cheeky moonlight,
Snuck a kiss on her brow where I wanted to,
if truth be told.

The moon was caught, and so was I.
No recourse, but to sigh.

Accept

Accept that you are but an oarsman,

rowing along the tide.

That you are awkward at worst, 

and even at your very best.

You cloak your fault lines

with a hug, some swagger and a smile.

Accept that there are ripples across time,

and you can only work on yourself.

Everything else is just fine.

This morning

Opened the window this morning. Mynah's chirping in enthusiasm, a whiff of sweet morning air.

A girl walking on the street, looking into random cars, hoping to fix her hair. I wanted to shout out 'You look fine, don't worry you've got the flair'.

Curtains in Monsoons

The curtain is in paroxysms, dancing with the sea breeze. The monsoons must not be far away.

Like a drunk uncle of the groom dancing when encouraged by the firang girl at a Punjabi Bagh wedding.

In the camps of Idomeni

The lazy smoke rising from the campire,

Children playing football, it's twilight,

In the camps of Idomeni.

Voices speak of the ancient cities of Damascus,

Of Aleppo, of the silk route towns of Herat & Kandahar,

In the camps of Idomeni.

Dreams of Berlin, of Scandinavian smiles,

Of warm beds to sleep in, of bread, of better lives,

In the camps of Idomeni.

A boy smiles awkwardly at a girl, they do not speak each other's tongue,

She is unsure what to do, it's all Greek to them,

In the camps of Idomeni.

Context : At the start of the Syrian & Middle Eastern crisis, many people were forced to run from the destruction of war, and escape into Europe on crowded boats where many died. One of the first camps the survivors encountered was Idomeni in Greece. The European authorities had bundled them into the camp while they processed their applications for refugee status. I saw a documentary and was moved to know more about them via articles and news features. This piece of writing is a result of that.

When you kiss someone

When you kiss someone,

You don't just kiss their lips,

You kiss their smiles, their dreams,

Their fears, their insecurities.

You kiss their memories

And every one of their stories.

9pm on a Saturday night

It was just before Andheri station

9pm on a Saturday night

The girl was holding back a yawn when their eyes met

She smiled disarmingly at him

His eyes shone in surprise

A moment of reaffirmation of warmth

In this tirelessly cold world.

Eid Mubarak

Dheeme se sapnon se jaagti hui zindagi, kitchen mein chai banne ki aahat. Subah ho rahi hai, Eid mubarak.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Dhaba

Punjabi cholleyan di khushbu, naal poori tallan di awaaz. Do mukka pyaaz, te dur truck da horn bajda hove.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Speak to me

Speak to me in whispers of the breeze,
in the dance of a monsoon tree,
in the wistful mists of a cloud,
in the golden caress of a sunbeam.

Speak to me in the poetic majesty of the Sagrada,
in the language carved on a frieze,
in the proud stillness of a campanile.

Speak to me in the boldness of the night,
in the audacity of the rain,
in the magic of the morning light.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I say you are beautiful

I see you, 

through the places I've visited, 

of the stories I've been told, 

of dreams I'm yet to live, 

through the lens of my soul.

I say you are beautiful,

through the way I've learnt to smile,

the way I know how to breathe,

the way I know what's wrong, what's right.

Have you ever dated a city ?

Have you ever dated a city ? Gazed at it longingly, in every mood, 

exploring every corner till you found its soul, and fell in love with it.

Have you ever dated a city ? Watch as she woke up lazily on a Sunday, 

Wistfully smile as she hugs another stranger, then smiles back at you.

Her stories

She told me her stories a dozen times

About her fears, her dreams, her smooth lines.

Years after she is gone, and her scent doesn't fill my thoughts, those stories are still mine.

Why can't I be content like that ?

It's early morning, cool wind blowing

Humanity's asleep, the day is waking

A parrot on the wire, slowly swaying.

There's gentle sunlight, the sea is waving

A lady parrot flies in, sweetly chirping

They rub beaks together, they're simply loving

Why can't we be calm like that ?

Why can't I be content like that ?

Listen to the Night

Listen to the night

As it plays it's symphony

A masterpiece of sound

Of rhythm, of swing & rousing heartbeats.

Listen to the night

As the wind raises it's echo

Watch the waves dance in frenzy

As the storm reaches it's crescendo.

Spend a little time

Spend a little time time waving back to those waves

As they sway timelessly and rush to you.

Spend a little time speaking to the parrots

As they takeover the morning with their excited chatter.

Spend a little time dancing with the leaves

As they swing in merriment to the tune of the breeze.

Pause for a moment and look around

Everything is not about you,

But everything is for you.

But never kissed

The brooding silhouette of the Bandra seafront

Cast against the gray morning sky

Seems to talk about a night incessantly teased by rain

But never kissed.

And now it was day again.