This pure puzzle of a relationship...

Yes, you have got a girl that owns your heart
     and I've got the guy of my life...
But the truth is my friend, we share something special that some tend-
     to think something else, they all misunderstand...

We both know where our hearts lie,
     and so do those who own them...
But the world is spiteful and is bent
     on insisting, damn it, offense...

There is something so pure, so magical and fun...
     There's the mutual respect that you always speak about...
and yes, a bit of a harmless chemistry...
     We are just so comfortable this way...
A little mischief and a twinkling wink...
But no betrayal of our better halves
     Nothing replaces them in our lives...

Yes, we liked each other that way once...
     Yes, there was a connection that I guess still runs...
But things got different and we have come past that stage...
     and so now we can safely flirt and shrug it all away with laughter...

We don't care if the world misunderstands,
    It's all about  our respective partner's stance...
Hope they stay the way they are, clear and cool...
    and let us be what we are, friends, and some fun...

There is nothing wrong, no crossing the line,
    Just play of words and laughing it all off...
There is very little time, with each other, we spend...
    and it is such a pain to constantly fend...

So here's wishing to the stars
    and hoping in our hearts,
Let us be in this pure puzzle of a relationship
    No need to explain, not good when described - which
we both know, is beautiful...
and want the important two in our lives to know... to trust...

Am not leaving u, unless tat's wat u really want...

If tat is wat u really want I'll let u go...babey
But only if tat is wat u really want...

U gotta tell me tat face to face...
I know its difficult but do it, else am not lving u...

there's always the benefit of a doubt u c...
don wan it to be all coz of me...

I don wan this to end... o babey...
I wan it al,l even more, till the end...

so if tat is wat u really want i'll let u go... babey
But only if tat is wat u really wan...

u gotta make me believe that this is all over,
for every time u look into my eyes, I still get bowled over...

u gotta shake me out of this love babey,
for i am falling deeper and deeper into ur gravity...

and tat is y I insist, u gotta tell me tat face to face...
I know its difficult but do it else am not lving u...

I dunno wat went wrong and where ur faith's gone
for i always thought, to each other, we so belong...

I donot understand all this negativity that has come to be
Oh! look at me, we are still the same, one body, the other soul...

Wat has ruined the love we shared, oh trust me, nothing's gone bad...
We can still mend, time on it we can spend...
            please don pretend u don feel our hrts beating together even now, it's telling u not to do this...

but lemme tell u something, unless u tell me tat on my face am not leaving u...
unless tat is wat u really want, and u temme tat face to face
and even in tat case, u know, babey, am not believing u...
so I willl never leave you...  unless tat is wat u really wan...
Don ask me how to prove... Trust me, I wud know if tat was so...

Incomplete - 6

We just don't matter, do we?
Like those tiny little flecks of dust settling on a table...
But no no wait, even they, they would bother someone enough to clean it up...
But WE, we just don matter at all...

We just don't matter, do we?
Like those invisible atomic particles making up the atoms that make every cell of our body to make us...
But no no wait, they matter enough to be what they are and change as they do to let us be us...
But WE, we just don't matter at all...

We just don't matter, do we?
Oh ya we do... To do all your grubby little jobs and clean your desktops...
Oh ya we do...

Why?

Why do I keep doing this... ?
Why do I keep falling for one.... after another....
I cant seem to be able to contain...
There is a wonderful energy...
A sizzling chemistry...
Oh but every time... but every time...

Why do I keep doing this... ?
Why do I keep falling for one.... after another....

They are all so beautiful... Every one...
They are all so charming... Every one of them...
I couldn't stop myself from staring...
I couldn't stop myself from talking...
I couldn't refrain from falling... head over heels...
Oh but every time... but every time...

The truth is I am scared...
the truth is I am scared of hurting them and even hurting myself...
Should I go on, with them or go on... on my own...
Should I go right or left...

I keep looking for support... Snuggling into the warmth...
The warmth of assurances...the sympathy and the empathy...

Why do I keep doing this... ?
Why do I keep falling for one.... after another....




PS:  Let's just say, there was a Mr. Y, another friend, and this poem reflects, his state of mind about a month back...

Like a broken man...

Like a broken man, u r dwelling in ur past...
revelling in wat u were... and hating wat u r…
like an old man showing his foto to his grandchildren n saying "look how young I was"
and the smile tat spreads on his face wen his grandchildren say
"oh grand D, u were so smart"....
tats wat u r doing a role play, ur soul and its twin part...

Like a broken man, dwelling in ur past...
Killing urself softly, hurting urself and suffering the searing pain...
will this take back wat I did, will this make up for my mistakes...
melting hot iron and trying to fill the holes in ur soul...

Like a broken man, dwelling in ur past...
revelling in wat u wer... and hating wat u r…
walking with a hunched back…
unable to bear the ignominious weight of ur sins…
too proud to look into the eyes of others, for if u walk tall and bold u know u wud c the blame
ur alter ego smacking its lips at the taste of the blood u spilt…

Like a broken man, dwelling in ur past,
Trying to lose urself in persecution,
Trying to swallow it all down ur throat…
Struggling to forgive urself,
Yearning for the peace it wud give, if u wer able to…

But Alas, ur conscience is having a ball of a time, having so much to pick at and prick…
And to avopid all this,
U live like a broken man, dwelling in ur past…
Reveling in wat u wer… and hating wat u r…


PS: Wrote it for the Mr.X, a friend I mentioned in Shared sin... To make him realize what he has become so that he changes for the better... I am happy to say it worked, I am so obsessed with myself to say only because of my words, but it did contribute a bit towards his getting better...

Shared Sin

I have sinned... but she did her share too...
I are ashamed and guilty and sulking in self persecution...
well she is too... at least I assume so...

do I have to live anymore... for I have done this to her... the very soul I loved or still love?!
am I worthy of life even now... for I have hurt the very being I wanted to protect all my life...
do I have to live with this self, this cruel soul for I have injured the fragile creature I wanted to own...
for I have made that creature realize that it is just not so... for I have made it see its other side, for it is also a creature like me...

have I got the guts to face it and survive... this gashing bleeding wound I have caused to both of us...?!
have I got the sense to see things clear and move on... have I got enough sanity left within me to appreciate the ones that have stuck around..
am I insane enough to not heed the practicality they suggest I live in...?!

I have sinned... but has she not too???

PS: I wrote it for a friend, from college, who was suffering an unrequited love... But he thinks that she did love him but now is not ready to accept it... I am sorry, friend, I hope I haven't given out more details than you like...

  

Incomplete - 5

as dead as death can ever get,
the lazy day lays wimp...
I struggle to stay alive
in this death of time...

the soulless, lifeless zombie of moments, walk dazed..
and I watch everyone of them,
idling on this dullness, no tune, no rhyme...
my eyes open, not keen on any, but taking it all in...

as dead as death can ever get
the lazy day lays wimp...

A tribute to the woman...

She was her world for fourteen years; the precious first fourteen years of life.   Then there was the man and the boy, who came in and went out of it sometimes.  She admired her, adored her, cherished her….. Loved her…  It was all returned with an equal or stronger intensity.  That’s what made it all special, filled her world with dreams, hopes, fantasies…………….. with life.  Even the man and the boy were not aware of the special bond.  They all thought it was normal for the relationship.  But how wrong they were….!!  It was something very beautiful.  They, the girl and the woman, transformed together into the childhood of one and the womanhood of the other.  They were friends one minute and the next, they were a teacher-mentor pair.  They danced together, sang together, played together, laughed together and cried together.   The woman told her stories of her own childhood.  The woman told her things she had not shared with anyone else.  The woman told her that she lived only for her-the girl.  She always said that.  She almost said that everyday, whenever they were together.    The girl never understood why she says that but she felt happy, sad and important, all at once.
It was all lovely……and more.  She saw the world in a view that covered only whatever happened to the woman.  That’s all she knew to do.  She hated the people who hated the woman, and she loved the people who loved the woman.  It was simple for her.  She saw what the woman went through.  She could not do anything about it.  Since she did not understand that, she fought for the woman bravely, every time.  She did not stop even when she got hurt in the process.  For this, the woman loved her even more, and the girl fought harder, the next time.  The girl acted a woman and took care of the woman, soothed her with her songs and kisses and the woman melted into a child, in the child’s arms.  Ah….She would never forget that…..
 Then there was the boy.  She used to love him too, though not as much as she did the woman.  This was different.   They used to play together often and she used to enjoy those times with him very much.  He was nice to her.  Though he used to play his pranks on her and make her cry, he was nice to her in his own way.  May be they were friends.  But no, he was older than her, and he did not treat her as he did his other friends.  No it was not friendship.  The “names of their relationship”- the terms of the world of adults - do not matter to the young hearts.  They just know to like, dislike, befriend or avoid someone.   So she loved him in her own way.  She used to fight for him too.  And he used to be very protective about her.  She knew that her childhood was a weapon she could use for their defense and she did that, at every opportunity, to help the woman and the boy, as much as she could.  It worked mostly, and she was happy she could offer something.  She started respecting the boy, loving him, as days went by and she saw more of that life.  She felt inferior to him.  She wanted to become like him.  He became her role model.
The man was an entirely different story.  The girl still doesn’t know if she loved him or not in those days.  He was more in the outer circle than the boy.  The man used to adore her, love her.  She did too but not always.  It depended on how the woman felt about the man at that time.   She felt guilty about it when the man told her that she was very precious to him.  She liked him very much, but for the times he was not nice to the woman.  She looked forward to his stories at bedtime.  She loved to swing on his outstretched arms holding a wall.  She felt very happy when she almost flew with his bike, sitting in front of him on her way to school. She loved to listen to him, sing his own songs for her, learned them and sang for him proudly, whenever he was in the mood to listen to her.  She squealed with joy when he tickled her little face with his beard and she slept peacefully lying on his back listening to his stories.  Oh… he was adorable….. but for those other times, when he was not….. 
Her world was made of the woman, with these people in the background.  Now, she barely remembers the rush in the mornings and the lovely Sunday-lunches they had together.   The woman is all she can recall.  There were times, when she was afraid of the woman too, but that was all out of the extraordinary love they shared.  She wanted to please her in every possible way.  She was scared she won’t meet the woman's expectations.  She even fainted when the woman scolded her for the first time because she felt guilty that she had disappointed the woman and was afraid that she might lose her love.  She always wanted to be the most important thing in the woman’s life.  She was very protective of the woman.  She defended her in every possible way.  She did not care who it was she was confronting or how they felt about it.  It was all about the woman.   She had gotten used to the “basking in the undivided (or at least, as she assumed, a special) attention of the woman” that she was very proud of.  She used to feel happy when she used to be visited by her every weekend in those eventful two years that all four of them lived separately.  She hated the man for letting this happen to them.  She did not like his visits.  She never spoke to him at that time though she could see his face blossoming at the sight of her.  She secretly felt guilty too.  She never understood him at that time.  She still doesn’t understand.  Those memories are rooted too deep in her heart for her to forget and she was way too small then, to understand whatever was happening.  After all this happened, she never expected the woman to actually talk to the man ever again.  After all, according to her, it was he who was responsible for whatever happened to them.  So she never understood when the woman started paying more attention to the man after they all got back together.  The boy was still living separately.  She got angry when the boy tried explaining to her that the man was not solely responsible.  “How dare he even hint that the woman had a role to play in whatever happened?!!  Even he loves her doesn’t he?”  As she saw the woman tend to the man more and more, she became upset more and more, but never so openly.  She never asked the woman about it.  Then, the fateful last few days with the woman were even worse.  She never understood why the woman would want to spend her last few conscious moments with the man rather than her, the girl.  Had she not always told the girl that she lived only for her?  Had she not loved the girl more than anyone else in the world?  Had the girl not been the one who fought for the woman?  How can the woman do this to her?  Then she hated herself for such questions.  May be the woman had a reason.  She always did.  She obviously loved her-the girl, more than anyone else in the world.  Everyone knew that.  SHE knew that.  The woman would have asked the man to take care of her.  That’s what she would have been talking to him about.  Obviously, she wanted her to be happy.  That’s what it would have been.  Or was it?
Now it’s been 7 and half years.  She has forgotten the woman’s voice and is able to recall her face only from her pictures.  She used to have a cassette tape that had her voice recorded accidentally, that she discovered in some pile of waste and had guarded it safely for a long time.  Now she doesn’t remember where she kept it.  It has become less important though even now she would like to hear her voice.  She still bears some fond memories, their tickle games, and their dancing and singing together, very few they were.  There are also some vivid ones that she doesn’t want to remember.  She had the habit of writing to the woman, letters that would never reach the addressee, whenever she was upset or wanted to talk about something very personal.  O, wasn’t the woman her best friend after all.  But now the frequency of the letters has come down.  Well, lots have changed.  The man has become old.  The girl and the man are sharing a good relationship she never imagined she would, even in the wildest dreams of her early childhood.  But still shades of gray come over their relationship, the shadow of her dark memories of him, when they have, even the smallest of misunderstandings.  Then she paints it with colors of maturity and understanding and love, oh how weird!  The boy has become a man now.  The girl herself is a young lady.  She has even come to terms with;  1) the fact that the woman also had a role to play in whatever happened, 2) the woman having not spent her last few conscious moments with her but the man instead, and well, a score of other things she had not earlier.  But one thing has not changed.  Still the bond has not worn out, she’s still defensive about the woman, and the man and the boy still do not know about the special bond the woman and the girl had shared.  They haven’t realized.  They would never understand.  So she doesn’t try to explain.  May be it is too special to be understood by others.  Actually, just the first eight years of her life should be considered the best till now, when all of them were really 'together'.  She doesn’t remember much from those years but the thought of all of them having been together is what makes it good…..the warmth of that imagination - no not a memory, she doesn’t remember - the imagination fed by the pictures she has seen….  Her first eight years.  But the first fourteen is what would be apt to be called precious, because that carries her whole treasure of the woman with her………….. Those precious first fourteen years of life…….




 PS: I wrote it about a couple of years back... For those who do not understand, I am sorry I cannot explain anything more for I took great care in writing it the way it has been... I did not want to blog but something today just made me take it out from the pile of mails in my mailbox and put it up here... Well, thanks for stopping by and reading is all I can say...