The blue eyed beauty

I want to lie as still as an unperturbed sea.

Throw a pebble at her from a distance and she’ll strain her eyebrows for a second and compose herself again.

Humans love to cause chaos there like naughty obnoxious kids, yet the sea maintains her cool.

She’s colossal yet can disappear into her own self deep within.

She’s her own music; her tunes might be the same everyday, yet she dances to it without a complaint.

She moves on, comes back and then moves on again.

She’s Brahma, her own creator; she’s Shiva, her own destroyer.

She has so much love that she can pull you in and cradle you in her arms and put you to sleep.

She’ll be your bed when you sleep on her and cover you with her waves, like a cozy blanket.

You can leave your fears, worries and confessions with her; she’ll swallow it down her throat smoothly.

She’s the same today, tomorrow and day after unless you provoke her.

You can be startled at her striking beauty and grace and she’ll blush.

Her soul is so clear and pure that you can look into her right till the end.

She’s random and nobody can own her, so she can sway where she wants to and you can’t question her.

However, you can’t letch at her or try to catch her; she’ll give you a taste of her true anger.

She’s a seductress, a lover, a sinner, a saint and she’s just not ashamed of being naked.

I wish I could lie unperturbed like the sea.

So long then, dear friend.

There’s no god damn doorbell here.

It is cold, dark and hell I’m freezing.

Will you just wake up for god’s sake and let me in?

Damn it! You’ve never left me so cold, numb and in the middle of nowhere.

Ok “I’m sorry”. I know I’ve let you down, so give me one chance to cheer you up.

Remember those good ol’ times when we used to drown ourselves in rum and forget the world?

We stayed in a cozy, bright, innocent and warm place called ‘home’.

We woke up to the sound of rains, smile at the sun and have pillow fights that you always won.

We carried happiness in our purse and never fall short of it now matter how much we spent it.

Our lives were lit up with simple pleasures like colors, the smell of wet mud, the taste of chocolate and by bringing a smile on anyone’s face.

We’ve always enjoyed being on the rollercoaster ride that life put us on.

We rated men in decimals and fractions, never in whole numbers.  Yeah, we were so mad!

Like two peas in a pod, we were inseparable and colorful together.

Then one day, we had this huge spat and you shut the door on me so hard.

I’m so grey without you.  Come back into me. Fill me up with love, color and peace.

Dear soul, you can't be lying dead here in this coffin. 

Don’t leave me here at your door, the name plate reads ‘graveyard’.

Look I’ve bought you your favorite lavender orchids.

There’s no god damn doorbell here.

It is cold, dark and hell I’m freezing. 

Rain, rum and the other side of the world

It’s June and the city has played enough like a bad boy in mud and dirt all through the summer. Mother Nature is annoyed and instructs her son to go take a bath immediately. She turns on the shower and the city bathes in glory like a piece of dirty linen soaked completely in water and taken out. And look how he’s bathing; he’s dancing, singing, jumping in joy like a 2 yr old who is given a good scrub by his mother who also happens to play along with him in the bath tub.

Zooming in to one corner of the city, where everyone is looking up at the photoshoped clouds that have been touched up with a color of grey.  They all know what’s coming and like curious kids running around setting up their stockings for Santa Claus to arrive, they are all ready to welcome the rain with arms wide open.

The wind chimes clanking to the tunes of wind, the sound of sea waves hitting the shores and the cupid-like weather has made alcohol official. So here comes Mr.Old Monk ; a philosopher and one of the best conversationalists ever who has this uncanny ability to make everyone talk.  There’s one more guest for the evening to enhance the celebrations for homecoming of rains-Mr. Neel Dhurendar, the Hookah.  He’s a silent listener, someone who gives slight kicks between intense conversations as if to say, “Hey, I need attention too.”  But he’s a sober, non-interfering, nonchalant guy who likes to be a part of celebrations.

After 3 rounds of talk and party with Mr.Old Monk and Mr.Dhurendar and the rains serving like a perfect background for a still picture, the celebrations get merrier.  People start to sing old hindi songs in a Lata-like or a toad like voice and nobody minds. Everybody sings and hums along.

Well, the alien world can keep calling or fretting like disturbed neighbours yelling at the top of their voices. Because for today, they are the other side of the world that is parchy ; where rum and rain don’t exist to bring back nostalgia, peace, love and togetherness.