A Vintage Print

  I know you want to talk to me too. I know you’re desperate to say something to me when I talk to you about how my day was. Or how the people in my life are treating me. I somehow blamed it all on you but it’s not your fault. I still tell you about my feelings. These bare feelings without any stains on them. No distractions from them. All these bare feelings pointing straight towards you.  I talk to you like you’re in front of me. I’m exhausted by the one-sided conversations and the smell of your house still stuck on my nose. I’m exhausted by your smile on my lips and your words eating away at my brain. I want it to end. I want the voices in my head to stop asking me about you. I need the roads leading home to stop reminding me of you. I need the stories to stop somehow making their way to yours. All my stories lead to you. All my words are yours. All my acts claim to be your result. All the bare feelings convincing people that I’m vulnerable, they’re all because of you. I’m...

I stroll around outside my house and look at the trees standing. It’s raining and I don’t bother because it reminds me of when I went on the terrace while it was raining on my birthday and on the day I was upset and on the last day of school. I spend a lot of time on the terrace and look a lot of time at the sky. I like how it changes colours every minute and people still love it. Apparently humans who do that are chameleons but chameleons are fascinating. And so is this rain. I don’t like going out in the rain but today I just feel like getting wet and smiling through it. I’ll smile through almost everything, make a joke about everything even when it gets worse. I don’t like to but then I’m not about to be looked at as some pitiful men who’s afraid to be sad. I’m not. I’m fine with it. Infact, I am always a little sad on the inside. That’s not an after-effect of some tragedy that happened, even though I’d like to think so. I have always been like this. “Some people are not built hap...

Tonight things are different. You recognize my breath for the first time in 2 years. "soo gaye kay?", you question. Tonight, I don't wait for you to disconnect the call. As you realize, it's me on the other side, I wonder what you think, what you must have thought all these days every year about these calls where I never spoke and you stopped at "hello". Tonight, I finally figure out that you knew it was me, that it had always been me for the last 2 years for never once did you miss my call let alone blocking my number. Your hello sounded a little worried tonight and I wonder, if he's not there beside you, listening to the silence on the other side of the phone. I wonder if you have saved my number as "mannu" or "chiku". Tonight, you whisper "chiku" and I sense nostalgia in your voice. Tonight, you finally believe that we, you and I rather, could've made it work. Tonight, you're sorry and I know that you really a...

Our idea of love is that of a half burnt coffee, In that we don't yet know, What are we supposed to do with it, To drink it in or to puke it out. Do we wait for it to cool down, Or is it best taken hot? So our tongues can't yet tell, The sweet from the bitter. Our idea of love is that of a half burnt coffee, In that we don't yet know, If we'd ever get used to it, To the burnt coffee, to the bitter tongue, Or would we be left waiting, In hope, that someone, someday, would take the damn kettle out.

I'm a firm believer that we meet people for a reason. Sometimes, quite simply they are lessons. Other times, if you are lucky enough, you find companions for life. You are one such person for me. We started out as strangers and now we are best friends  I'm not going to bore you with the details, but I'm grateful for the patience you have shown me over the years. For not telling me I told you so, for resisting that urge when I went ahead and made my own mistakes. For listening to me rant for hours, crying  out in the process. Mostly, I'm thankful that you are just there for me.  You have made me see what I have missed, focusing too much on the grays and not enough on the colors. Making me realize that there are very few things that a long bath and a good sleep won't fix. For your unending optimism and positivity that shines through in your words, for the amazing person you are, thank you! I'm not going to tag you here and turn this into another cheesy post. You k...

Hearts don’t have windows. You can’t look into someone and peek into their soul that easily. You can’t look at someone and think you know them. You can never know them.  You can’t peek into a conversation and try to find the connection that you want. There is not a single person who would want to be with you if you force them to. But connections are under-rated. They just walk up to you with a hesitating question and a half-smile. They crawl in your phone with a ‘Hi’. Connections sing to you from neighbouring balconies and sometimes tease you with your fears. They come to you with common hatreds and music tastes. They are not an accessory that you can build with a string and a few beads. Not a luxury that has its owner relaxed and privileged. You don’t appreciate when you have them. You need space. Space is another luxury that convinces you that you’re sensible enough to handle yourself. It’s an illusion and when that turns to loneliness, you can’t hold your own hand and see your o...

These trains keeps coming and going and the only constant I see are the tracks. Two parallel lines that never meet and they're the thing that is always there. The people keep rushing and the rats keep hiding. They don't know how the trains move. The intricate network of the lifeline. The vendors enter the train and chant their songs to the ladies. The eyes of their kids are silent. They haven't learned how to speak up for themselves yet. The one-hour commute has convinced me that the world keeps moving. If you fall, if your bag does or your child does, people keep moving and nothing comes in their way. All these lives combined in a web of stories that no one is willing to listen to. They're scared to find more people living the same stories, or maybe worse ones. So many people going to so many places to do so many things in a huge city and I spent last night thinking about why I don't feel like myself lately. The Universe is a vast space and my thoughts are a...