Tag Archives: Memories

Dawn

It was the peak of spring

And the garden was filled

With lush reds, pinks and yellows.

It was five-forty and I knew,

You’d be by the french window

To watch dawn set,

Waiting for your tea

And me.  Continue reading Dawn

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Tunes Of Yesterday

The streets are empty

With nothing but yellow shadows

And empty cars.

There’s the second last bus home

Making its way to me, adding white

To the yellow shadows.

Continue reading Tunes Of Yesterday

When Time Fought

Some folks of have strange tales

Pumping through their veins,

That’ll remind you of fairytales.

Those marks are not stains,

But are remains

From a battle fought

At the ghats and plains.

Hear, hear, there’s something it taught.

Continue reading When Time Fought

Sandalwood And, Jasmines

It’s a quarter from seven

And I don’t feel her

Beside me.

She’s left the chiffon

Over the windows

Just to let the sun

Tease me.

I wake up Continue reading Sandalwood And, Jasmines

Six Nine

It’s been six months since I spoke to you.

But I know you went to the concert of your favourite band last month when they came to the nearby city. I know that you wore grey and charcoal with white floral embroidery to your cousin’s reception the month before that. I know you celebrated your friend’s birthday last week and took three shots of vodka cheers. I also know that you had scrambled eggs over waffles and, fresh orange juice for breakfast today at the cafe two blocks away, in your black tracks and white tee. Continue reading Six Nine

Scroll

I’ve got two blue shirts folded in front of me on the bed covered with black as I fold the third. I’ve let the chiffon curtain fall over the window letting the orange dance into the room. I stop midway as I stare down at the pattern and memories printed on it. I can feel the five o’clock warmth wrap itself around me but only through the sweater of fifteen months ago. I gently trace the polkas and kalkas, afraid to erase the memories yet trying to reach them one more time.

Continue reading Scroll

Creeks and, Blankets

It’s a quarter away to eighteen and the sun’s making its way to the horizon. I make my way out of the house and onto the streets, towards the seas or maybe somewhere else. I walk towards the main road and then take three steps back to go ahead to the alleys behind, take another two steps and trace them back to take the main road. There’s uncertainty in my feet today that take steps of restlessness. The sky’s gone from orange to pink. I’ve reached the park and for a minute I slow down, giving my racing heart a chance to slow down too. It smells of wet grass and ice-cream. I sit down in the centre of the empty bench, assuring myself single occupancy. I cross my legs over and, take two deep breaths and place my right palm over my chest. Still racing. You can see the creek from here and the lights dancing on it in graceful choreography. Perhaps today, we don’t meet the sea. Perhaps today, we meet the creek.

Continue reading Creeks and, Blankets

Moment

It’s a quarter to six and you can see the winter nudging your sleeves as the wind picks up. You can see the pavements light up with their enlarged fairy lights and a lazy rush flood in. I glance at my ten year old watch as the signal still speaks red. Ten minutes to six. It’s an odd hour to hear Kishore on the stereo but I’m the last to complain. That’s if you ask me to at gunpoint. The road starts to clear and Kishore and I make our way back to the house by the time the clock strikes six. I’ve walked up to the front door but I can’t seem to look at it with its carved roses and clear glass that bends the light in the most magical way. I can hear the blood gushing through my ears ferociously as though it pumps right there. I place my left palm on the door, letting my skin recognize warmth on its cold surface. There isn’t any noise in this part of the city. You have the silence and the waves to keep you company. And my uneven breaths.

Continue reading Moment