The skin whispers and summons her hither,
To where secret stories lie hidden in depths
That she had not yet discovered,
The sigh of the flesh, the magnetism
Of touch, the electricity of lust beckon,
Her steps momentarily waver,
Yet she retraces them just in time,
Managing to overhear the conversation
Her heart was having with his,
There were sounds of throaty laughter,
Friendly nudges and incessant debates,
There was a fragrance of coffee in the air,
A nip of flirtation had begun to dance with care,
And there were cushions scattered on the floor.
She sat on the pink one,
And he sat at the other side,
Both immersed in that conference,
Knowing they would let their hearts
Talk each other out,
Before the skins began to talk out loud.

We would mark our places-

Our flower shop,
Our cheesecake,
Our café,
Our frozen yogurt,
Our secret spot,

We would, without a thought,
Childishly decorate,
Build landmarks; but now
When it's time to separate,

I realize, as we stare
Ruefully at one another,
That we marked not only places,
But ended up coloring each other-

~ Irreversibly ~

Each time I say it,
She brushes off my seriousness
With a careless laugh,
But I swear her body
Emanates this enchanting waft
That comes from no other.
It's exclusive, it's divine,
The language of her apocrines,
That's mine,
Just mine to understand.
And if I could, I'd take all that fragrance
In my bare hands,
And securely I'd preserve it,
Immortalizing in my possession,
Her- in all her glory
Her- in all her heat.

Take those pictures
You've been thinking
They'd look good in,
Capture them, seize them,
Do it now.
Make memories,
Don't second-think how,
Before Time swoops in
And carries them Home.
Believe me, believe me
It all happens too soon,
Leaving you with only regret
For not taking those pictures
You thought they'd look good in.

A world's difference there is
Between expanse and depth.
They may give you promises
As vast as the breadth
Of the biggest oceans,
Yet, if it doesn't burrow as deep
As their heart's most inner cove,
Remember, my friend,
It isn't true love.

Every time you'll set your pen
To begin a poetic rendezvous,
You'll see it'll never be the same as yesterday,
For your poetry will change with you

Every day is a different breath,
Every breath holds a different sigh,
Every sigh holds a different feeling,
Of infinite kinds of lows and highs

And infinite ways there are, you'll see,
Of putting to words your heart beats,
Every creation will mould itself, closer
And closer to your fluid entity

Of course, there'll be times when the words
Will appear to have forever gone away,
But don't fill yourself with doubts then,
For your heart and your mind are still at play

And when you'll least expect it to,
Your poetry will dutifully return,
With little surprises and anecdotes
It collected while on vacation

Don't be amazed then, when the ink rolls out
To find some wonders and marvels brand new,
For your poetry will change with you,
And, your poetry will change you.

Showing up unceremoniously
From behind prissy waistbands unyielding,
Giggling out between breaths ****** in,
Unabashed, untamed rolls of me,
Not needing flattering illumination or angles,
Only truth-shopped and real-brushed,
Sharp with their curves and bends and curls,
Their glory making me feel like the cover girl
That i am.

-Hello Mr. Blue!
How are you?
-I am fine,
And what about you?

She confessed that she wished
Only to bide some time,
So I threw my watch away and
Gifted her all of mine.

No mistress of metaphor
No star of sonnets
No heroine of haiku
No queen of quatrain,
Merely in touch with the -
Language of longing,
Sanctity of sin,
Din of desolation,
Poetry of pain.

You're a craving I'm unable to define
A thought that plays on and on
In the recesses of my mind,
a vague, nevertheless, an intense spark
of emotion I'm unable to point my finger at
right now, that yes,
I feel this about you,
It'd be less hard if I knew
what this strong whirlwind was,
Because if I knew,
I could tell you

Turquoise and silver
Gently touch her skin,
A little glitter rubs off on her,
Igniting me within,
Delicate stones twinkle
Like her innocent eyes,
She needs no adornment
She only has to smile,
Yet, on her wrist,
I affectionately wound
Turquoise and silver,
To tell her, when I'm not around-
*I love you
I love you
I love you.

Cool mountain breezes tranquilize
My heavy lids, as I shut my eyes
And soak in the graceful scenes,
Aboard the majestic Himalayan Queen,
With her rhythmic chuk-chukking,
Her coaches lazily chugging,
Each slow screech of her ancient brakes transporting
One to an era of few hurries and fewer worries,
Look at her, winding round and round,
Piercing cloud after fluffy cloud,
Almost like a moving tiara adorning
The artistic Simla greens,
That span as far as the eye can see,
Only punctuated by nature's unbridled revelries
Of wild, white flowery shrubs
And lone, or in pairs, monkeys,
And moss-laden tunnels galore-
"Recorded for this route as hundred and three,
But numbering hundred and two in reality",
Points out a septuagenarian co-passenger knowledgeably,
His random trivia prompting me out of my reverie,
Albeit, temporarily!
For soon enough, my senses slip once again
Into a playful camaraderie,
With the innocent romance that only
The mountains can awaken inside of me.

This morning when I woke up
I realised something really sad
Don't ask what it is
That doesnt matter,
Basically I did something
But I didn't do it right
There wasn't much to lose
But that's not the point
For here I had a chance
And I casually gave it away,
And three months later suddenly
In my bed as I lay,
I awakened to the reality of how
Downright stupid I was.
Lying in bed for the past two hours now
Desperately counseling, consoling myself,
Looking for some closure,
Now trying to find a remedy on this page
Hoping as the words are vented out
Comfort will slowly get space to seep in,
And I'll be able to start with this already delayed day,
Because right now I just want to forever sleep in.

It must be a strong force unseen
That drives a heart to someone's poetry,

For it's not easy to spare the time,
Out of the chaotic humdrum of one's life,

To push the clutter and monotone aside
And welcome alien ideas into one's mind,

Ideas not shaped into melodious tunes,
Ideas not shaded with colours and hues,

Ideas not in a photographic frame enclosed,
Ideas not structured into the flow of prose,

Free-gushing, mischievous, some rhyming some not!
Poetic ideas are a difficult lot,

Which is why I wonder, astonished, each time
Someone sits down to explore a creation of mine,

What power was greater than all worldly realities,
That led them to my humble poetry?

Was it a soul parched of light?
Was it a heart in the throes of an endless night?

Was it the thrill of love, was it the urgency of desire?
Was it pure craving for emotion, the warmth of fire?

No greater an honour could there be,
Than having someone step into your dream,

Allowing themselves to take the expedition,
Into the unknown depths of your composition,

And have your poem satiate their being,
Just as its birth had healed your own entity.

I don't know why I
Have this constant itch to express myself
When actually I'm unaware of
What exactly it is that
I want to *say

My mister is so delusional,
Pompously ranting of forbidden flames,
And secret lovers.
Oh wait till I tell him with a bow
"Thy missus is dirtier than thou",
And watch his innocent face
Change a million colors.

Our fingertips touch and the world
Comes to a standstill-

Still as all of nature at dusk,
Silent as the moonlight on a starless night,
Heavy as the gurgling clouds just before it rains,
Blinding as the sun in all its glory and light

Our fingers begin a rhythmic dance,
As if playing the piano, rendering a favorite song,
Knowing the pace, the moves by heart,
Not faltering once, not going wrong,

Then twined together, we blissfully lay,
Content, peaceful, complete.
The moment of oneness cupped between our hands
preserved for all of eternity.

In hands hardened with
Hunger, struggle, and poverty
Of all kinds,
She clutched bundles of
Fragrant, delicate roses,
Her beauty hidden behind
A torn dupatta,
The light turned from yellow to red
The other girls by her side rushed
To crowd around cars
While she simply sat unmoving
Face turned away
While I wished I could take a picture,
Because her silent figure needed

Something more than words,
Something deeper, more colorful
Than words
To illustrate her black and white story

Suspended in his animation,
Between just tangible vapour
And barely there air,
I can touch him and I can't,
Yet I know he's there

Medicine has no room for arrogance.
We don't just cure disease,
We cure humans.
The human body does always not go
by the books we've read or
the algorithms we've memorised,
The human body does not know
how famous we are, how much we earn.
The human body presents to us,
and places in our hands its life,
and trusts us with all it has,
to solve its puzzles.
Bizarre puzzles, really,
Sometimes so easy to piece together,
Sometimes turning more puzzling with
our attempts at deciphering
the meaning of the riddles it throws at us,
Sometimes a novice may solve them,
Irritating our egos but medicine
has no room for ego, either.

One can't be a doctor without
Selflessness, one can't be a healer
Without having one's feet planted
firmly on the ground, and the strength to
know that one can be wrong, and the
ability to question one's own reasoning,
And it isn't something we're taught,
It's something we build everyday by
Failing, fumbling, blundering, finally learning,
that's how the art of healing we acquire,
which is why, medicine isn't just a job-
It is a way of life.

Too much a part of my system,
My being, my thoughts-
Deepest of thoughts,
The shape of all my desires,
Precious, precious love,
When did I imbibe so much of you
When did I weave you so intricately
Into all my innocent and all my complex
Dreams,
Your face beams
At me, through your absence,
Stays with me,
Plays with me,
Leaving me to wonder in amazement,
When did I make you so much a part of me, that
I became you | You became *me

What you do best-
Feel love with the deepest intensity
What I do best-
*Keep jolting you back to my reality

Hearts bound by Destiny don't obey
the rules of distance, time, realities;
they cannot be chained by worldly restraints

For their bond had been carefully crafted
that day the universe had taken upon itself
to bring their love story to completion

And who can defeat the universe?
Constraints, tangible and intangible,
try but miserably fail,

As the two hearts, sometimes flutter,
Falter, fly hither-thither,
But never go away much further

And are pulled back together,
again and again - again and again!,
With the strings of their celestial love, unbreakable

Sparks fly when the hearts conjoin,
Reeling from separation, their love now intensified;
The beatific universe watches over them

*And blissfully smiles

I wonder if the universe listened
To the song of an aching voice,
If a weak heart wrapped in pain
Reached out to its imposing poise.

If it did, oh how I'd beg and plead
for it to tell its stars to re-align
To where I'd left my fairy tale unfinished,
And take me back to those simpler times.

What a marvel,
The truth that we
Are dying from the
Moment we have
Come to life,
Our existence is mere
Tug and pull between
De- and regeneration,
Our body prods our cells on,
Pumping short-lasting elixir
Into their microscopic selves,
Ions and stars of energy
Rushing in and gushing out,
We are nothing but
The friendly contest
Between flourish and decay,
One will lose tomorrow,  
The other concedes today.

Numbness I await
While your words reverberate
Through and through my soul.

I went to your apartment yesterday,
You weren't there, but everything still
Felt like home.

As I opened the door, your
Familiar fragrance hugged me tight,
Just as you used to.

My favorite shirt lay crumpled on the bed,
As if you'd left it naughtily there to remind me
How I've ruined it one too many times.

I grabbed it and smelled it deep,
I inhaled the scent of your chest, your shoulders,
Your arms, oh your arms that I love so much.

I lay on your bed with my senses
Buried inside your shirt, inside your beautiful self,
I cried and I laughed at the same time.

Little had changed in your room
Since I'd left.
I wished this room mirrored our lives.

I hoped you'd return early,
And find me curled up inside the blanket
Of those million memories we'd created together,

But you didn't come, and it got dark outside,
And suffocating and unwelcoming,
And lonely inside.

I left, clutching the keys firmly in my palm,
They're all I have now, to spare me of the pain,
That stings me day and night.

Saw her after years,
Clinking her glass as
Everyone roared "cheers"
To somebody's happiness
They cared two dimes about.
Marvelling over how her
Hair seemed to finally
Stay in place,
How she did eventually learn
To suffer high heels with grace,
And trying hard to not be
Intimidated by the hint of rouge
Adorning her face, I managed
A "What are you doing here!"
Expecting her to reply in some
Accent or language as fancy
As she'd become,
But oh! Musically she spoke
In a manner as matter of fact,
As nonchalant, as uncautious
As before,
"You know, just pretending to be pretentious!"

Oh you wicked little rebel, I thought,
Gently tugging at her hair,
Loosening one curl,
Try as you might to pretend to pretend!
You're way too REAL for this world.

It's been a year since I tasted the sea
And let its vast strength wash over me

It's been a year since the mischievous sand
Tickled my bare feet, slipped out of my hands

And the sun kissed my starved skin,
Marking it all over, illuminating me from within,

If only I could close my eyes and be there for just a moment, if not more,
I'd lay myself, carefree, unarmed, vulnerable, at the endless sea shore

And as the sparkling waves would splash over my thirsty soul,
I'd become one with water, sun and sand- for just a moment, if not more.

A tiny bundle covered in teddy-printed pyjamas,
He fidgets restlessly on the panel of the giant machine,
Preparing him for the scan is my most basic task of the day
Yet the most annoying one, because I cannot get away
Till he is asleep enough to not be afraid
Of entering into the mouth of that daunting cave,
Treating a child is so very difficult I feel,
No matter how detached you try to be and see
him as a "case", how do you neglect the truth that,
A being not abled enough to even climb out of the cradle,
Has to parent a disease that gnaws at him day after day?
I shake off such aberrant emotions and join his coaxing mother,
I know what she would really wish for at the moment would be,
To scoop him into her arms and lull him off to sleep,
But she has to be the rock she never wanted to be,
The baby had moved the last time, this one has to be error-free
So, allowed by her to take his cannulated hand in my gloved one,
I give the magic drug a carefully measured plunge
Into veins that are too little to bear such brunt,
Yet have been forced to endure this pain that can never be considered
Fair!
We two women watch over him, transfixed,
Noting his every sigh, his every twitch-
The Mother, anxious, cupping his now limp hands only with
The embrace of her eyes,
And I, the Doctor, though following my medical instinct, watching for
His breaths, with each chest rise,
Also find myself enchanted by the mysterious state this child is in,
Is it a state of dreaminess? Or of dreamlessness?
Is he floating into a dark endless sky? Or is he navigating between
Silver-illuminated stars?
What is the meaning of the half smile on his face?
Is he envisioning a world where he is happy,
Sans needles making insensitive designs into his vulnerable skin,
Sans masked doctors promising they wouldn't make him cry,
Sans missed school days and birthday parties,
Sans heated fevers creeping into his bones each night?
Minutes pass and we are broken out of our respective reveries
His fingers have started to weakly trace the red beams of light,
His voice has begun to coo indistinct chatter still unshaped by civilisation,
Its tone and urgency getting louder and surer,
And before he begins to frantically search for his caregiver,
A little more magic will be needed before completion.
I re-enter the glass cabin and inject again into his system,
A last few moments of painlessness and oblivion,
The gaze becomes dazed again, the smile reappears,
His mind comfortably wanders back
Into a calm nothingness and silent, numbed peace.
"The scan has concluded without event", I make a file note,
While the images on the screen begin to light up with disease.

Brewing over a cup of steaming coffee,
And warm, fluffy, syrupy pancakes,
Our chemistry could be the perfect recipe
For a weekend romantic escapade.

Grand tales of eternal, undying love
I really, can not promise you,
But my giggles around you are real,
The new stride in my step is true!

And every time my eager eyes
Communicate with your smiling ones,
My winter-heart heaves sighs so deep,
I sometimes fear you could hear them!

So, wrapped in mufflers and woolly caps,
Come, laugh along at my red-tipped nose,
And live a short-lived fairy tale with me,
Who knows, we may just outlast the snows!

Nostalgia is a bitter-sweet pill,
I taste it as the wind tickles
My bare shoulders, just like
His breath used to,
I drink it when I remember
The dizzy euphoria of devouring
His wine-kissed lips,
Oh what I wouldn't give
To have him tiptoe back into
My existence and grab me by my waist,
Erase the bitterness and replace it
With the sweetness of himself.
Oh what I wouldn't give
To have him fill in the blanks
He's left in my poetry,
Replenish the drought, the paucity
Of his most sacred gift to me,
Words
If he'd return,
My words would too.

I hate using fullstops in my poems.

I want you to smoothly glide
Line to line,
Perhaps let a comma guide
You here and there
But no stops,
Just inhalations,
Imbibation
Of free flowing sentences
That carry you comfortably afloat,
To the fluid denouement
Of the poem I wrote

So what could be worse than
Lying on a hard, rickety bed
Squashed between wall and mother
With sweat travelling down your forehead?

And counting the blades of the fan
At its maximum speed, lazily tumbling,
Planning your mighty escape, because
Surely the termites were going to bring down that ceiling?

Spotting a lizard - expertly camouflaged - staring down at you from its abode - right at you - probably thinking to itself - "Oh cool, she'll catch me if I fall"

Yes, that's what's worse.

The trick is to deeply inhale,
Loosen your inhibitions and let go,
You don't know if you'll be saved
Or you'll fall, still-
Let go,
What's the point of everything, really?
Of polite smiles and sniggers behind backs-
Of storms within and silent exteriors-
Of days of drudgery and painful nights-
Of worldly desires that forever grow in height?
The only sensible thing in the world
Is the nonsensical, the vague, the free state of
Nothingness
That you were born in, you don't remember but
That was the most serene, most quiet,
Most happy you ever were,
Retreat to that innocence, what stops you?
Goals? There's no end to them anyway.
People? They'll walk out anyway.
Comfort? It won't last anyway.
Leave it all before it leaves you,
Surrender yourself into
The all-enveloping arms
Of the endless blue skies,
Breathe in freedom and jump
Even though you don't have wings,
Even though gravity appears menacing,
And even though no one taught you how to-
The moment you'll let go,
Life will catch you,
Embrace you, cradle you, lift you high-
And trust me, dear reader,
Then you'll fly,
Even though no one taught you how to,
You'll fly...

As if in mild amusement at the way
I undermine myself and let my flaws
Cast shadows over my worth,
My neurons light up and give birth
To electricity that sprints through,
Weaving ideas, creating magic,
Shaking me up and lifting me high,
Bringing me face to face, eye to eye,
With the beautiful truth which sets me apart-
That my body is the house of art.

Like dew drop-crusted petals
Of a plump red rose,
One curved layer after another
Guides me in her flower unexplored,
She sits cross-legged and wonders
Who conditioned us to associate
The Rose with Love,
It must have been you darling,
Incarnated century after century
Flooding the lover's heart with the
Scent of your intoxicating being,
The red pouring into the eyes of the poet,
Creating volumes that will till eternity
Sing praises of how even the Rose
Bows down to your Rose,
Of how the Heavens tell tales
About your enchanted Gardens,
And in this century my dear,
I am the one blessed
To have been driven insane,
Dedicating flower after flower to your name

I am the star of small groups,
Intimate meetings, close friends,
Personal conversations,
Old, private jokes- they are my thing,
Talking to someone i barely know
Seated at a far corner of a noisy table,
Is something I just can't do,
A "remember when..." gets more out of me
Than a "what's up",
So, in a crowd, I may be the "quiet" type,
But at a table of four, I am full of life,
I can become the life of that table,
I'm that type,
The in/ex-trovert,
That's me, what about you?

You were a little too loud
A little too dismissive
A little too upfront
Forever eager to point out-
Especially among onlookers-
The million ways I was wrong.
I admit your harsh noise
Almost intimidated me enough to
Cave and give in,
Until I craned my ears a bit more
And heard the hollow bellows
Of the clanging insecurities
You'd hidden within.

It's when you understand that-

                    Everyone has a battle to fight
                    Everyone has a demon to ****,
                    A regret they pray disappeared,
                    An unanswered "what if?..."
                    A larger than life aspiration
                    An urge for a simpler life
                    (both at the same time),
                    Everyone sees in themselves
                    A flaw they spend all their might to hide,
                    Everyone has an ache untreated,
                    Insecurities kept discreetly in a shell.
                    Everyone has a Story to tell-

Do you begin to realise that
Probably all of humanity
Is just the many versions of
One inifinitely re-written story.

Resilience
Temptation
Resistance
More resistance!
Desire...
Powering,
Overpowering,
Unbearably overpowering,
Feeble opposition,
Finally, resignation,
And after this,
Sweet, chocolatey bliss.

*Impossible it is,
To watch your weight
Sitting at a table with
Friends who live to eat!

Erase
Unlearn
Torch
Watch it burn
Stomp on it,
Think it's dead
See it emerge
From the ashes instead,
Invincible,
On fire undousable,
Beating vigorously
With love unquenchable,
Heart flaming
With undying heat.
Start over, in vain,
The infinite repeat.

Hey, I think we should stop right now
Wasting precious hours
Building these sturdy
Pedestals for each other
Let's remain in the dirt instead,
Ankle-deep, slipping, falling,
Giving in to the wind, carelessly
Letting our bodies sway
I have a feeling
Life'll be more fun that way

Slow cooked over a simmering flame
is how I'd like our love to be
Full of earthy fragrances and soft
crackling of fire fuelling our chemistry

Wafts of aroma will float through,
with the gradual deepening of the flavour
Impatient bubbles will form and burst,
Heightening the temptation to savour-

That delightful melange of emotions,
But we'll hold back and let there be
A deeper hue, a thicker consistency
To our painstaking alchemy

For the dish of love will be best served
When conceived with patient devotion,
So lend me a hand darling; let's slow-stir
together, our delectable concoction

Palindromically flowing
Mirrored thoughts
Race back and forth
Forth and back.
That and this,
This and that,
All identical
~Same to same~
Identical all,
That and this,
This and that
Back and forth
Forth and back
Race mirrored thoughts
Flowing palindromically.

You are the ending
to my wandering
Poem