Typewriter Series – Timezones

Timezones is a part of my Typewriter Series. It is typed on a vintage Remington Two Forty.

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Romancing death.

Romancing death was easier than I thought;
He smiles and asks if I am afraid,
I laugh in response.

You smell so nice, he says to me;
I nod my head and tip my hat.
He asks me to come, and I am early.

I wear my Sunday clothes
’cause you bid goodbye in style.

There was never a moment this alive.


My Body is Homeless

Raging extremities
contained in my flesh
crawling through my brain
enough to cleave me into two

How could it be possible
to contain so many of me
in myself
and yet feel homeless
in my own body

How do I know which
one is me
and which one
I should be running away from

I just want to reconcile
all the different things I am
to become one
to become me
to finally feel at home

 

The sun shines on my grave

You’re like half-forgotten dreams,
and the perfect colour of night turning to light.

The time of restlessness and recklessness,
when pain is inconsequential and unimportant.

It’s like the moment after the laugh dies on the lips,
or just the beginning of a smile.

The tilt of the head, considering,
when the air is heavy with uncertainty.

I’m like a grave, newly dug open,
with sun shining, like on the first day of summer.

Place roses on my grave, decide now,
or come, lie here with me.

Misfit

I wore rounded shoes on a square tiled floor and tried to avoid the lines but I almost always never won.

I saw the floating cloud, so perfectly suspended like newly washed linen on a hanger, and I played games, made up.

I spoke too quickly, too loudly, always honestly. When no one was around.

I had these great conversations, in my head; with a different person everyday. You see, I quickly changed.

It wasn’t easy making friends, but it was harder still, to keep them. And that was a harsh lesson to learn.

I was not a genius, but I was good at a lot of things. And I found out, good was never enough.

I was neither sad, nor happy; I wasn’t lonely, although often I was alone.

I noticed peculiarities, and stared too long. Maybe, maybe everyone thought that I was finding faults. But I always looked in wonder.

I was a misfit. And I just wanted people to see me for who I was: A girl trying to fit in.

Think of you

I’ll think of you as the stars start to fade,
as the moon wanes

I’ll think of you in half a light,
because you’re all the brightness I need

And when the candle burns out,
the old, wooden, rusty table
will bear witness to the time I thought of you
Used and beaten, like burned with anger

I’ll think of you with a tear in my eye
which will run down my face to meet my smile

And my brooding eyes will face the ceiling,
burning with questions, always burning

Afraid to hold you, afraid to let you go,
even though you’re only in my thoughts
An empty room

I’ll think of you as the dawn breaks,
you’ll rise with the sun

And in my thoughts, you’ll never run away
In my thoughts, there are no footsteps
walking away, for once, filling the empty space

In my thoughts, you decide to stay

Write you a letter..

 

 

I’ll write you a letter I’ll never send
You’ll never know what is was meant to be
A love letter or all my goodbyes

A crisp white page would have your name
written on top with my favourite ink
And I’ll gently caress it, afraid to read aloud
Tracing the words, imagining your face

I’ll write you this letter that you’ll never see
Just like you went your way,
hardly sparing a careless glance

And I’ll finally write it
and put in a locked closet
where it’ll fade into nothingness
ink fading with everything I felt for you

I’ll write you a letter but you’ll never know
because I’ll realize, all this while it was for me
And as the ink flowed,
I could see how much I needed this

The letter, I’ll keep it with me.

Goodbye Little Girl

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Reha made this painting ‘I want to live’. Please click the image to reach her profile.

It’s alright now, little girl
you can give up,
we’ll fight your fight
and we’ll win it for you.

Don’t struggle so hard,
we know how brave you are
we know the pain you endured
and nothing in vain
we promise you that.

It’s okay brave soul
go to a better place
the humanity is dead anyway
and we’ll join you in a while
hopefully carrying answers.

And it’s okay angel
You deserve a better place
where beasts and monsters don’t roam,
roam in human disguise.

You gave us a chance,
we see us in you,
we see you in us,
you gave us a chance
to hope for a change.

They called you the fearless one,
the brave soul they said,
but that hardly matters now,
it’s alright now dear sister, mother and daughter
after all, you’re one of us,
and now it’s not just you we fight for,
it is our fight.

And it’s okay angel
You deserve a better place
where beasts and monsters don’t roam,
roam in human disguise.

I hope a heaven for you,
I’ll dream one for you,
where you can finally rest in peace.

I wrote this as the news of her death started coming in, it is my tribute for the girl they called Damini, Amanat, Nirbhaya – The fearless one, the brave heart. For me she was also a  girl who left too soon, and unjustly so. And she deserves to not die in vain.

This poem got published in DNA Mumbai on 31st December’2012:  http://epaper.dnaindia.com/epapermain.aspx?pgNo=9&edcode=820009&eddate=2012-12-31

The fallen leaf

Maple leaves fallen on a lawn.

The seasons changed
And one day, the warmth of the sun fought with the chill of the earth
Everything faded into vividness of darkness and richness,
of yellows and reds

That’s when I fall on the ground,
of soft damp earth,
I await my fate.

Days go by,
smiling children play nearby,
lovers meet; lovers kiss
And till I see the sights,
I take a sigh of relief

I try to not think of the day,
the day those children and those lovers might take it away
They’ll playfully pass by and press me down on earth
and i’ll crinkle and tear like an old paper
having finally met my destiny.

I’m the fallen leaf,
I see the seasons change
And revel in the joy,
and weep for my fate.

The One

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

The tears have had their way,
travelling down the face,
soaking our skin,
leaving a burning trail.

Looking for someone,
they can be the one,
bringing meaning to words,
for you.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

So we must keep caution,
for trust is often given in vain.

And there is a way,
we all do take.
Close ourselves away,
from the world.
Save us the pain,
save us some trouble.

For, the times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

It has never been easy,
living in this madness, for anyone.
But never did we have it so bad.

For now,
each one of us,
barely touch how we should,
to bare ourselves,
we have forgotten how to.

So we sit,
quietly in a corner,
awaiting our turns.

Hopeful big eyes,
sometimes cry,
and sometimes they smile.
Waiting their turn.

Is it worth it,
this game we play.
In the end does it matter,
how we played.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Looking for our beloved,
we want them to come to us,
they wait for us.
This hide-and-seek.

We say we live freely,
but what we live in is fear.

Courage we must seek,
or the love we need hides itself well.

So, let in the poison,
embrace the wicked.

For in the thousand,
we find what we sought,
the one.

The one,
worth our time,
worth the hurt,
worth all the pain.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Till the time,
until they come.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

Save them,
the ones we will call our own.