7 love poems of a doomed affair

(1)

I loved you so -
I made a space for god in my atheist mind.
A sinking woman and her idol of straw.

(2)

Loving you is an eternal falling
    - through Alice's hole.

(3)

When you smile at me -
it's like I have taken a huge gulp of warm honey
on a cold, winter night.

(4)

I forgot to tell you -
         I have made you my reason for leaving.

And then the world ended.

(5)

An evening like this comes every hundred days.

If I could only give up all those ninety-nine days of my life,
and spend my few evenings with you.

(6)

The devil dwells in your eyes.
No wonder you are unaware
that your eyes say something different.
Than you.

(7)

Let me end with a lie this false love of mine -
I do not love you.

To the man I shall stop loving tonight

We are doomed to be strangers
- forever passing each other by.
Our destination so apart
- that even two steps together
is a renounced hope.

We spiral towards each other
- and wham! the moment we collide,
are pushed farther away than we ever were.

I would have stopped and waited -
till love curdled into indifference.
Or I could have tried to convince you -
of the beauty of my chosen road,
and waited for the ennui to kick in.

I am leaving you now -
before rottenness has wind of spring,
with the fragrance of  a single evening
pressed into the pages of time.

I am leaving you, and with you I leave
the "I" of that evening -
the "I" who shall love you forever.

An Open Letter to my Anonymous Beloved

I can write about all that I have gone through since falling in love with you, but it’s pointless. I am no different from any Juliet or Scarlett or Miss Havisham or any 14-year-old in love right now. Instead I will try to “sell” myself as a beloved to you. Lover I already am!

Seven months of being in love with you and yet I don’t know the first important thing about you. I don’t know what your favourite colour is or your favourite poem or your favourite dish. I don’t know if you like rain, or sunshine, or sunshine in the rain. I don’t know if you cry, or you think tears are redundant. I don’t know if there is space for me in your mind or I shall have to create my own space in your mindscape. 

And since I don’t know anything about you, I can’t persuade you to love me. I love you but what of that! I don’t even know you. Say I find out, your favourite colour is brown, your favourite writer - Durjoy Datta and your favourite dish - Mexican, would I still love you?! Suppose you hate rain because it’s squishy, and hate sunshine because it is glaring, and sunshine in the rain happens to dampen your mood, would I still love you? Suppose you are a cry-baby or maybe you think people who cry are weak, could I still love you? Suppose your mind is too full of ambition or old hurt or grievances, would I still love you! 

I wish I could answer with an uncomplicated yes, but I can’t! Durjoy Datta is unacceptable, Mexican food is negotiable and as long as cruelty is not a part of your system, I guess I can deal with ambition, hurt and grievances. A positive sprinkling of kindness in that heart could even make Durjoy Datta negotiable. Just kidding; that is still non-negotiable!

I am a quick learner and I can promise you that if someday we are together I can be as good a cook as you may hope for on special occasions. I am physically incapable of cooking three times a day though. I am honest and tactful; you shall never have to meet any irritating people since I am very good at coming up with excellent, almost genuine, excuses. I am good with people and can keep them entertained for hours (even when I don’t really like them). I know driving so you won’t have to pick or drop me. I have awesome girl-friends so you won’t be harassed to accompany me on shopping. I intend to keep my friends for life so I will have a life of my own apart from you. You will have space and you won’t ever need to entertain me. Your friends will love me, your relatives will love me, and once your mother gets over the fact that her son had chosen someone on his own, she would love me too. I am that kind of a girl. 

I am not very high maintenance. You won’t need to invest too much money on me. I am not into food so the whole wining and dining thing don’t impress me, nor am I into doing “it” things. But I am high maintenance in a different way. I am into letters; write me one and you have given me a recyclable joy. I am also into key-rings. And cups. And books. I am into impromptu getaways and I am very much into happiness. I wonder if I am doing the selling right!

I am brave; I fear nothing except ghosts (which the rational me know doesn’t exist) and arguments. I believe in affirmations (that’s how I know someday we will be together) and I try not to lie as much as possible. I am honest and kind and ethical. I am well-read enough to engage you in any discussion (although politics and technology are not my favourite topics of discussion).

What I expect from you is to be your own person with me. Some of my friends are married to some awesome people. I don't want you to be like them. I want you to be your kind of awesome. I will need you to love me and accept me and make peace with my flaws (the ones that I shall inevitably fail to overcome; I am not flawless). I will want you to be with me, not because you have to (because remember, I already have enough people in my life!) but because you want to. I have a feeling that you will be very happy with me. I know the secret of happiness (ever seen me without a smile?!).

Just to remind you again, I am in love with you but don't let that creep you out. Fortunately for you, I am too old to cause a scandal and luckily for me, my ego takes over when my heart finds it unbearable to take in anymore. So you don't have anything to worry about in any case! Just bask in the sunshine of my admiration and that will be happiness enough for me!

#theonethatis #crush #tezpur

Language

I know -
The day I find the right language
My life will be perfect.

I will be able to tell my mother that I love her
And of the things I hate about her.

I will be able to tell my father I respect him
And that I think he is foolish.

I will be able to convince my beloved
that I cannot imagine life without him
And tell him he needs to be less cruel.

I will be able to tell my daughter,
she is the most precious person in the universe
And tell her she's not unique at all.

I will be able to admit my love for humanity
And say, Fuck you Universe, with the same words.

I am weary old.
And I am still searching for that one language.

Something Stupid

It was a magical time when we came together. Under the open night sky illuminated by floodlights in the wide field, it was as if solitude surrounded us. I was never more aware of the dual nature of time or solitude. Time dragged so slowly that I could notice every blink of his eyes, each move of his fingers as he kept on playing with the leaves of grass, tearing them, absentmindedly throwing them away into the distance. When our eyes met, I could sense the beginning of a conversation running to its end until we took our eyes away from each other. I could easily pursue the quick flick of his wrist as he rotated his cell phone in his hand. Time stood still. Yet time never went faster. I was never more aware of the fleetingness of time. My heart was filled with a despair so terrible that gloominess pervaded my entire soul. I could only despair that this moment was coming to an end so soon, that he could just get up and walk away at any moment and I would be helpless to stop him with a word or a glance. I wanted the night to go on endlessly. 

I was aware of him alone, of his loud unnatural laugh at the smallest provocation, his attempts at conversation and the ever present strain between us that threatened to break the calm at any moment. The whirling multitude around us was just a backdrop to this wonderful moment that I was living. I felt no one, I saw no one. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him and yet I couldn’t look at him. If our eyes met, I couldn’t move mine away for an infinitesimal second too long, that surplus second where I felt terribly exposed and vulnerable and also felt the shy euphoria of surrender.

I was aware of my surroundings as I was aware that it was a starless night. I was aware of the breeze that was a little stronger than usual. I was aware of the loud music playing in the distant open stage. All these were like swirls of colour in an abstract painting, as meaningful as you wish them to be. But in the midst of these, there were us – real and tangible and interwoven to the extent that we too flowed into the swirls of colours. I was one with the world; the world was one with me. I was immortal and eternal at that moment, perfect in my happiness and my unhappiness, in my longing and my contentment. That moment, when time had stopped for me, I realised life would never be the same again.

My toothbrush: A love poem

My spare toothbrush isn't well.

Each morning it complains--
It's been bitten by wanderlust, it claims.
And at other times -- it doesn't feel at home!

Last night I couldn't sleep at all;
its incessant moans and longings haunted me.
This morning it shyly told me the truth:
It longs to stand beside your brush,
in your bathroom cabinet.