Skip to main content

Love tales

       (1)
I fell for your pain,
The hurt in you kept me awake in the dead of the night.
What was it thumping hard inside me, I wondered.
I could see what you had to let go
Could feel each ounce of your pain
Yet, I wanted to say it loud
I am there, I won't judge,
Trust me for once.
I would take away your fears.
And be there like a lurking shadow
But I couldn't be the reason of your hurt.
Couldn't be the tears you would shed.
So I sealed my thumping heart,
As i passed you a smile
And I smiled a smile which wasn't one.

(2)

I hid it deep, deep down somewhere where the light couldn't reach
Between the folds of my existence
It's sweet vigour kept me alive
Yet, I turned it into ice
Not letting it melt
For I feared I would hurt you beyond repair
I run short of words
My voice drowns in silence
But my heart knows it all
You aren't someone different
I feel like calling you by my name
And yet, words deceive me
But I paint my love in silence
For in silence would you hear it deep
It would ring under your skin
I carry you wherever I go as I read, sing or eat
As i cross roads or take bigger leaps
You are right there like a shadow which looms large
Yet, I fail when it comes to words
The words die as I try to spill it out in the dead of the night
And it's just silence and two of us
Do you hear me?

(3)

What can I gift you except for pain
Pain that would rip you apart
And each time I think of it, I swallow my words
I can't let you hear what I feel
So I am going to keep it a secret
A secret whose perfume tingles my skin
And I smile at it
As i wish you to smell what I have carefully hid!

(4)

For once would I want to ask you this,
What would it take for you to hear what I can't speak out in words?
I know it would hurt if I spill it out
But would you please smile at the hurt,
If I decide to spell those words!
Words are meaningless,
They are mere abstractions,
But yet, when I decide to spell them
Would you be willing to listen?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...

What do you want to be?

While I was in my 10th standard, almost everyone I met wanted to know what I wanted to be. This question always perplexed me. From the lens of a fifteen year kid who was not yet sure of the changes which awaited in the near future, this question gave me nightmares. I would constantly sit by the mirror and ask myself, what actually would be my answer. My friends always had fancy answers at their disposal. They would confidently chirp whenever any one asked about it. What amused me most was, my friend who had no inkling to study Biology wanted to be a doctor and another friend who detested the idea of even cooking noodles, wanted to be a chef! But whenever they spoke about their wishes, they would always sound confident. And there I was, fumbling for words which refused to escape my lips. It was not until I entered Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya to do my plus two, I found my voice. The teachers there have a different way of viewing life. For the first time, I no longer felt the classroom...

Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents.  It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could...