City Lights

The city lights never fade.
The sky is lit, yellow.
The stars never shine bright.
The moon is always all alone.

The smile is never long enough.
The pregnant pauses, awkward.
This life never pleases us.
The hope, our only companion.

The friends never stay forever.
The stolen promises, broken.
The tears never dry too soon.
The death, our only constant.

The lullaby never serenades.
The lyrics, determined.
The meanings drift us to another world.
The moment, our sole purpose

The city lights never fade.
The sky is never black-blue.
The stars leave the moon alone.
The moon still shines.

The coffee is never too strong.
The sleep, unnecessary.
The mug is full of memories.
The night, our lone mate

The all is never everything.
The effort, tired.
The victory seems far away.
The result, our single wait.

The love never last for long.
The rain falls, slow.
The heart ache always hurts too much.
The change, our only permanence.

The city lights never fade.
The sky lit by fireflies.
The stars are somewhere else.
The moon owns the sky tonight.

The relationships are never too alien.
The names, forgotten.
The people are too loud around.
The loneliness, our solitary silhouette.

The house never seems too big.
The spaces, empty.
The windows see the sunrise daily.
The home, our ultimate desire.

The words never seem honest.
The intentions, blurred.
The trust is buried deep in each soul.
The belief, our only saviour.

The city lights never fade.
The amber gives way to rain clouds.
The hope is ushered, the stars twinkle.
The moon dips, the sun shone.

The city lights never fade.
Another day begins to live.
The broken promises stitched to fit.
The dried tears smile away.

The city lights never fade.
The day goes on, as planned above.
The meanings mean another world.
The coffee brewed strong enough.

The city lights never fade.
The evening rises with a desire.
The love lasts, the heartaches die.
The victory glows on our face.

The city lights never fade.
The sun sets to an amber sky.
The frown dips with the sun.
The ‘never’ becomes ‘sometimes’.

The city lights never fade.
The night sky is what we all have.
The stars, this time twinkle alone.
The moon disappears behind the veil of time.

Looking back in the rear-view

It’s funny how after going to college, every single person has made new-er friends. Some probably even better than the ones they had (read: me). They go to college as if it’s one heck of a vacation, 
they say they love it when they come back and then they cry while leaving home.
It’s funny how we all move on so quickly. How we all accept life the way it 
comes to us-wrapped in happiness as much as in sadness. Everyone waits for no one.
It’s funny how I am content with only skyping/ talking over the phone/ chatting with those very friends who I met every single day in school. Now it seems as if even that time on the net/ phone is a blessing.
It’s funny how we moved on from studying Physical Education to actually pursuing the sport we like. In some cases, we dropped it all together to join Music or Dance. In some cases, we just went abroad.
It’s funny how people I never spoke to in school are now the ones who know me the best, courtesy sms-ing and the net. It’s amusing how the written form of communication breaks down the barriers of hesitation; how I am glad that I texted X,Y and Z person that fateful night or day.
It’s funny how dates can be organised when the ‘other’ half is 2000miles away, 
but how we hardly ever met when we were in the same city.
It’s funny when I look back at the times I cried in school because of what 
a teacher said; ‘coz what she said was right. I always stood up for what I 
thought was correct. Now I know that it’s better to just ‘know’ you’re correct rather than voice it out. 
It’s funny how I thought people loved me when they clearly did not. 
That they bitched about me behind my back or were sugar-coated 
only because they wanted work out of me or wanted better grades from my mom.
It’s funny how I stayed away from the ones I loved because I did not know they loved me back. How I avoided my crushes. How I ignored a few could-be friends.

It’s funny how life goes on.
It’s funny that none of us got what we exactly wanted. By ‘us’, I mean, the humans not 
the super-humans. None got through IIT or AIIMS. Some shifted to commerce, 
some from medical to engineering. Some settled for a college less preferred, 
some settled for re-appearing next year. Despite ‘having sources in places’ some settled for 
what destiny had in store for them. YET, all of us are happy. And having the time of our lives.
It’s funny how we crib about missing school, yet are loving it in college. How we’ve pushed back the music-full assembly halls to the back of our minds and have replaced home-works with assignments.
It’s funny that we’re all holding on to the past with one hand and are rushing towards 
our future with the rest of our body, mind and soul.
It’s ironic that when we were in school, we always wanted to date someone. 
A girlfriend, a boyfriend. Anyone for someone; but now that we have all the l
iberty to do that, we’re studying in either an all girls/ boys college or are living in dorms 
where the other sex is not allowed. Or, now, we’re simply NOT interested. 
It’s funny that as soon as we step into college, we feel that we’ve grown up and our
 parents think we’ve shrunk in size- literally and figuratively.
It’s funny how the people I never cared about think of me when they don’t see me shout 
down the corridor or sing Lala Lalala near the Ghugni Puchka wala.

It’s funny how the absence is felt and not the presence.
It’s hilarious to know that I still matter. 
That I still am the reason for some people. 
That I am all their reasons for someone.

“Looking back, in the rear-view,
I see the old wearing the new.”

The Raindrop Destiny

She looked out of the window, questioningly at the rain. She saw them fall, not drizzle, furiously on the garden she had cured painstakingly. She doubted the very existence of the tadpole droplets. She wanted to know why they were important and what right they had to dictate her life. She wanted answers and she was not ready to wait for them nor was she ready to accept them. So what if it was raining? Was it so necessary to think or relate every single detail in her short life to Him? Did she not have a life to call her own? She detested the rain from that very moment. She squirmed in her chair, her shorts wrinkled from the effort. The coffee she was sipping was cold now, 
the steam stopped rising away and settled to being in contact with the liquid. 
They had forgotten how to rise. She had forgotten how to love.

The rain had never been something she adored, but she did not mind it either- The tiny drops made their way from way up in the sky to only fall, thrashing, on the ground and lose their very existence. She felt empathy towards the drops- they strikingly resembled the way she viewed her own life. Even she had risen to grow, she had grown to rise. She had become someone she wanted to be. She had realised what she could be and He brought it all down, He made her lose all that she had and she was thrashed back 
on the ground, made to forget who she is, 
made to misplace her identity.

She couldn’t let this happen to her. She couldn’t allow her life to fall back to where it had just begun. She did not want to lose who she could be in the process of erasing who she already was. And He was the one who was tugging on her past. He kept pointing it out to her. He kept bringing it back to her, wrapped under gifts and flowers. He did it intentionally. He did it to get back at her. 
He did it for her. He loved her.
But she refused to see it. Why should she let go of herself for a man she ‘may’ be with? He should accept her the way she accepted him- with his flaws, with her past. She frowned at an imaginary figure of his, looking straight at the glass of the window. She traced her name on the mist; she carved out a heart and then 
rubbed of the entire thing. She has to let go. She has to forget Him. 
He has to let her forget him.
She gets up; the chair was warm from her sitting on it through out the morning. The Sunday was a lazy one, devoid of her usual house-cleaning chores. She had decided to let herself grieve. She heard sad songs to make herself cry, she stared 
at walls only thinking of the fact that she was staring at walls. 
Then it started to rain and all her effort was zapped right to the bin. 
The day came flashing back at her. The day she dreaded. 
The day she wanted. The day it happened- the day they broke.

Ayaan and Rhea had been together for six years, but it all came down to just two days which mattered. The day the met and the day they parted. The worst part being, she did not know why either had happened. She had asked him a 
million times but he dodged the answer every time she questioned him.  
She never knew why he liked her, why he loved her. 
Then how was she to know why he left her?

She cursed herself for believing him or even believing in him. She held her hands to her ears as if to stop herself from hearing the words he had once said. She curled up on the bed beside the chair and cried. But she stopped. If she started now, she knew she would never stop. Her cell phone lit up. She saw that Sanaaya had texted her. Sanaaya was her best friend. They had been together since 7th grade. 
They had been together; unlike Him and her. Rhea checked what emergency 
had risen. Sanaaya used to avoid texting. She was more of a call-person.

“Whr in the wrld are u? I don’t even know hw textng wrks! God.Recve the phne atleast.EMERGENCY. yours. U need 2 leave tht stinky chair. Look, its rainng.”

That’s all that the text read and Rhea winced. It reminded her of the rain. Rhea deduced in her head and blamed the rain for everything untimely that had occurred in her life in the last few weeks. It rained and she reached late for her work. It rained and she broke the heel of her pumps. It rained and her sister went into labour. It rained and Sanaaya texted. It rained and He broke up with her. 
She associated it to every morbid detail of her life.

Rhea rang Sanaaya and spoke to her. She did not feel like talking at all. Though they were best friends, they never really interacted under emotional stress. So, they hung up awkwardly; Sanaaya wanting to ask and Rhea wanting to share yet both preferring to keep quiet, just to assume everything was perfect, 
that everything was like yesterday.

But it wasn’t. The only constant between yesterday and today, for Rhea, was the weather and the rain. Yesterday, she had a tomorrow to look forward to. But today she has a yesterday she wants to forget. A yesterday in which she wished it wouldn’t have rained. A today, she wished would have a rainbow. But it happened still. It rained yesterday, it rained today and there was no rainbow. It happened yesterday, it lingers today and there was no escape. She had Him then, she misses him now and there’s no rewind
She stopped shoving her face into the pillow and stared at the wall for some more time. She suddenly realised that it needed to be done up. It stared at her, as blankly as she stared at it. Sanaaya was right, it was raining outside. Rhea used to like the rain. But He made her detest it. He was the reason for what she had become, not the rain. She was the one who let him lose herself; not the rain. She had only them to blame- not the rain.
She then rang Hong’s for a delivery meal. She decided to go out for a walk and then, Rhea rose out of her room for the first time in two days. She bathed, washed her hair and decided to re-boot her life. 
She dressed up well and even kohl-lined her eyes.

She realised that she wanted to meet new people. She wanted to be the master. She wanted to like the rain again. She wanted to be like the rain. Not in a way where she collapsed on the ground but in a way in which she drenched everyone with her aura;  in a way, where people looked up to see where she came from; in a way, where she would be loved. She wanted to be cold like the rain and subtle like its drops. Instead of assuming that on falling, the drops burst; she imagined them to be the beginnings of a new fall. As if, each drop that fell on her garden signified that 300 more were on their way. She did fall, but she wanted to carve out the way for a new tomorrow- rain or no rain. She wanted to live her life. She wanted to be her life. She wanted to share her life. She wanted to close the doors to yesterday.

She went up to the door, opened it and walked out.

“Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain”
And it’s hard to hold a candle, in the cold November rain