Lost dimensions

21st November.

It’s an important date. It used to mark anniversaries of a past love. Year after year of gifts and romance, cards and special surprises, then absence, distance, bitter fights to coming back stronger with a sweeter love. The aging date stole time from under our young, naive eyes, only to throw them back at me as memories of a lost dimension.

5 anniversaries later, I started resenting the lost years of stumbling through life unquestioning, unaware of who I was and where I was headed. I was restless, and I knew this time the upheaval was far too big to be subdued under compromise. I knew then, that I would always be restless in love. I would always be certain only of what I don’t want, and always seeking what I want.

On 21st November last year, I bade goodbye to my first love, scared of letting go and guilty of having hurt him. But my instincts told me I’m doing the right thing. A year later, and nothing has changed; but nothing’s the same any more.

Who knew so much could happen in a year, especially so much of what would ultimately be remembered with either sadness, guilt or regret? I believed I was still the same person inside, just doing things I didn’t usually do. It’s just a phase, and I’m living someone else’s borrowed lifestyle of excessive partying, drinking and occasional screwups, I kept telling myself. Well, not anymore. This girl is sobering down, it’s done and resolved.


The date is still significant. This year the clock struck 12 and time passed by a drunk me in a stranger’s arms. It gave me a good hard much-needed slap on the face. It left me wringing my hands in despair, and the more I thought of what I’m doing the more I fell into depression, terrified of confessing to anyone for fear of being judged, and completely clueless of how to get out of this mess.

So I wrote this post and decided that if there’s one thing I knew about myself, it was that I’m not a coward. I told myself to take a deep breath and start by being completely honest, without fearing who I might lose in this process. Once again, this date seems to have woken me up from a deep stupor.

I guess now the date marks my years of stumbling down an unknown path, stubbornly alone, just as unaware of who I am, and just as sure of what I don’t want.


Icy heart

The birds were chirping and spring was upon them
But the frost clung to her skin and wouldn’t melt
With an icy finger she caressed his heart
And her pale blue lips dropped a kiss he never felt

Sweet, lingering pain

The sweet pain that lingers behind
long after the fight has ended
Dark, cold nights still haunt from within
As cherry blossoms welcome spring

I welcome pain like an old friend,
we’re soldiers of that battlefield –
reborn from our scars of victory,
wounds of bloodshed that wouldn’t heal

I’ve given refuge all these years
And so it remains, comes and goes
My soul, it keeps chasing the light
But shadows whisper of the night

Leaping flames of shadowy greys,
They beckon to my unlit soul
My mind is now grey-tinted, with
Sweet pain to engulf the darkness


Over at dVerse it’s Open Link night, hosted by Beth Winters!

Untrodden paths

This Friday started normally. My friend A was travelling to Mumbai for some work and had left home early. We have this little tradition to call and wake the other up, collecting well wishes at the beginning of each journey. But our conversation didn’t last long; it was impossible to hear each other over the noise of the bus speeding down the highway. Other than that, it began as a day like any other.

Then he got a phone call, the contents of which he relayed to me while his bus stopped at a food mall. He sounded like his usual enough self, so I hadn’t the faintest notion he was about to tell me something shocking.

“You know my friend MK?” He began.

I was silent, even a little absent-minded and sleepy, having been woken up earlier than usual.

“You met him over drinks last Saturday. The tall guy. He bought us all Tequila shots, we celebrated his job placement at Mumbai, remember?”

My brain finally caught on. “Yes, of course I remember”.

“He had a heart attack. His brother had called with the news. He’s no more.”

Continue reading “Untrodden paths”



You were never worth it
Never worth that much pain,
Countless tears wasted and
Constantly throbbing ache

I never saw through you
Till someone slapped me hard
Woke me up, made me see
What you’re really made of
It was in front of me
Right underneath my eyes
The lying, the doubting,
How could I not have seen?
Finally I’m awake
Broken down opaque walls
See you in clear light
Stripped down, nowhere to hide

Continue reading “Closure”

A feeling of love… again

It was not the universe in play, straying signs in her path regarding true love and soul mates. It was the flippant nature residing in her that made these decisions, Marisa was convinced of it. The spontaneous, impulsive side that everyone saw, and which she could not bear to change. She could count the boulevards that had led her to nowhere. The one that had gotten away, the one who had married her best friend, the one who let her go believing she loved someone else. The one who paid her no heed, the one who taught her lust without love, and the one who had given her his heart when she was too young to care.

She saw her friends who walked carefully through life, taking each decision after a great deal of thought, conservative to the core. They imagined themselves to have wrapped a security blanket all around their happiness, shielding it from irrationality, from life’s less pleasant surprises. As if being careful and calculated was going to save them from any kind of trouble that could befall them.

She scorned these cautious people. She took pride in her spontaneity, in her approach to life. She had always been the one to fall swiftly, fastest to succumb to gravity’s call. And also quick to lose interest or to perceive things going wrong, she thought bitterly. She was the fearless one, who could dare go up to a guy and ask him out not knowing if he was even interested in her. She was the one who took risks, the one who had never cared about putting up social appearances, and the one who was not afraid to be different.

Marisa did not belong to the kind of people who think that the universe came into being for the sake of love, and that love was the only feeling worth living or dying for. She was far too young to think or preach that way. Nor was she one of the girls who wait around for love to strike; but maybe that was because it always did strike sooner than she expected. Her intuitions about people and their feelings were almost always right, and they had helped her well in life. She however lacked somewhat in judge of character and compatibility, and this was where her impulse would override any rare, wayward, lingering doubts of rationality and give in to the attraction that they both felt or perceived.

She wanted to stop the pain that possessed her every time she believed her heart to be broken. She hated the fact that she was sensitive to things like fragile hearts and treasured memories. More than anything else, she very much hated herself soon after a heartbreak, for allowing her errant thoughts to lean in the direction of someone new. But she couldn’t help herself. Her spirits had always been maintained at an unusually higher level than most people, and they helped her burns to heal faster.

Was she only to understand love stumbling eternally and through healing the wounds and broken bones? When would the time come, when she would finally stop blaming the non-existent omens and signs telling her once again, ‘he is the one’?