note to you

one thing i've learned this year is to move on.

i earmark this year. fairly special. fairly depressing. losing friends. making new ones. three car accidents. i even tried a bit of origami; not my best talent. witnessed forty-five deaths. breast cancer. i miss those faces -wherever they may be.

the summer seemed like a conclave of emotions. A walked in to my life. B walked out. she wanted it. so badly. and i remember nights after nights over the telephone, we would wire our feelings. sometimes gleeful. sometimes distressing. we crafted a future. holding hands and sucking lips. but i walked away. on a cloudy night. a silent tuesday.

and then came R. bubbly and cheerful at first, fairly nonpareil. i will admit, my emotions strengthened. but i never let proximity become an excuse. we communicated. sometimes. and spoke about how wonderful it would be to run away in the distance. travel the skies. through a circuit of cultures, and rhythms and sketchy monuments. we thought we would grow. as responsible individuals. at the behest of time. we molded ourselves as dolls of innocence. but we broke apart. and i gave thanks. silently. thanksgiving was meaningful.

on the patio by the lake, i made a figurine. out of snow. of the delicate breasts. i remember C. i miss you dear.

note

i love your high school monotone.

so much.

note

and it rained this evening. like it would at home. aunty ann and i would sit outside in the porch and sip cups and cups of rain water with lemon drops. and talk about old memories that made us cry. and i remembered you in the middle of it all.

sometimes, i wish i had undone time. for all the times i had gotten angry, really angry, i wish i could throw out those words at you. little shards of emotions buried in the deck. i will play them one day. and you will never learn the trick. i promise you that.

but you made me a dream catcher out of a fairy man. and i realized those wings were elastic. very early. very very early. and out of my caution, i did not say anything. never will. you dissolve conviction in self-confusion. and it amuses me, really.

i wish success on your smile. send me a note when you stretch.

note

and i would hold your hand, little pebbles, and tell you that i love you.

if you promised me. without sneering. and told me your song. and played the reeds for a million moments. across the halls and the walkways, where we walk through wonderment.

if i had a rainbow on my chin, i would art it on your face. for a time, when you forget sunshine.

note

if you were real, i would hold on to you.

but i wept that one night, and gave you away.

on words. i could never imagine.

today is the day for recompense. we will smile, yes. emotionless.

but why would you lie to me, mister x?

note

i don't remember you.

anymore.

note

and i saw the storm. trickle by trickle.

and remembered when i sat by the lamp, combing my hair. and i smiled at my own reflection in the mirror. fleeting thoughts -once unrealistic, but real today.

but i still smile.

sometimes.

august fourteen

remember when your fingers froze. that one night?

oh i forget, it's you.

note

i will call you the master of spices.

i found a piece of your nail today.

note

you burning hypocrite.

i know your truth.

note

i thought about you for a very long time today.

and i imagined a piece of glass. by the window, across the lane. and when the little kids bicycled along the power lines, they left a trail. incomplete and patchy.

but the story never ended. i am not sure how or where it began. and i bet i never will. such is the nature of our demonstration. your fury blazing on a canvas across the wall. and i leap over the windows, and the wall that you built.

if i could pull out an item from the box, i would pull out water. so that you would see your face. and your half-smiles.

open your door sometimes. there's a sparkle on your face.

summer song

and this is a summer song i wrote while you were away. a probable collage of confessions and thoughts. forgive me if it hurts. i promise, i mean every word i say.

i will not hesitate to say that your selfishness lines your smile. that your fingers curl up to grip a desire. unexpressed yet meant. and when i see you next, i will laugh within. you will never know who you are. and when i slip away into the shade, you will lose my trail. forever, with no return. and i will be honest, when i saw your tassels the other day, it made me laugh. it made me laugh not because of you, but because of me. because i learned my folly, after so many days.

and when i went back home that one time, i ran around the streets imagining you were here. what if you had fathered a vision that i had never known. and you lied to me. endlessly. for the sake of motion. for the sake of twining around the spiral. the spiral where your shadows fall into the pit.

but you don't realize that this world is a maze. a maze where you forget the ends. without escape. a maze where you smile. repeatedly. because that is the key to the nearby exit.

mister y, go away.

shore line

mister z, i licked the waves.

and i smelled the sand. scorching through my nose, that sweet smell of a rainless shore. and they say, the hurricane ate her flesh.

four years have passed.

and while i swam, i thought of you.

note

i'd say, erase this doubt.

and look at your face on the half-formed waves.

you will find solidarity in the specks. i swear.

note

if i could open my eyes, and say good bye to you, little rainbow, i'd paint the sky with stars.

my heart would be in your fist. i swear, you are nowhere to be found.

anymore.

a note

i believe i have never told you the story of my mud house.

and one monsoon, eight months after your birth - they burned my house. with fuming gasoline and tar. i still have a little piece of the molten iron from the door by the alley -scribbled 'sin' across its diagonal. in a bold red; possibly pastel. with the stench of cold, moaning gasoline drips and smudged finger prints. i wish they were mine- little concentric lines piling into a spot.

so many days have passed by. mister x, i still smell your sweat.

note

and mister X, thank you for your time. i appreciate your tenderness.

and mister Y, thank you for your patience. i appreciate your care.

and mister Z, thank you for your gratitude. i love your heart. more so, this one phone conversation which we had. a long time ago. i am sure you have forgotten -do not worry. for, i learned you are a man.

july eighteen

if you break your promise, little pebbles, i will take you home. and they will gape at you with bloody eye lashes.

and they will tell you, little pebbles, give me your hand. and you would be shy. sweaty and slimy. and you would run up to me. patting your little feet on the cold mosaic.

but this time, i will not hold your hand.

july fourteen

little pebbles, i stole your tongue the other night.

and wrapped in my warmth, you heaved a whir of sighs.

and you trickled beads by your pillow. remember that one night?

july ten

and now i know why you walked away.

understand, what you tried to say to me -i didn't smile.

i pulled those strings. the curtains fell in splendor. crimson velvet. through your lashes.

hand in hand, you said. let us pluck those strings.

july eight

i have called you many names.

for a reason.

i wanted you to know that.

june twentynine

and mister curiosity, give me strength. to touch your soul. love your love. feel your pulse. move your rhyme and tap your dance.

and taste your tear, when it glistens in the moon. like when you left those drops behind on the blades. crystal green. like dangling emeralds on little breasts. and my fingers would wriggle all over mosaic. in a monotonic tingle. clasped to your fists. i wouldn't let go.

you hopeless story teller. give me your yarn. and i will spin the wheel.

june sixteen

and i gave you my pen and told you scribble your thoughts out. and you scribbled bold alphabets. all over your palm and delicate fingers. a string of names i've never heard before. in a careful casual font -welcoming, to say the least. semi-cursive. crude and rich.

and i mapped dots through your eyes. remember when we used to run through the field. rustling across a puddle of dead leaf veins. and we looked at each other and giggled all the time. like seven-year-old clowns trapped in a shell of silliness. but we were not seven-year-olds. and remember, how we ploughed through the snow. you heaving. dark, mournful sighs that choked your mind. and then you would sit and collect snow flakes. curse all the time, because they melted through your fists. and you would say look at the stars. they're little flakes silly let them go, i would say. and you'd turn around with a violent swoosh. walk up ten steps. sit down and look outside. you hated snow. i remember. but you slipped away so easily. cast in a mold so that i could never reach you. good job i will say. atleast we are far apart. and i am out of pain. and i am away from all your ridicule. i know you are alive. somewhere, across the ocean.

the water still flows through me. sometimes.

note

and listen, i forgot to tell you something the other day.

two words. thank you.

i have moved on with your breathlessness. i swear. that night. when we went to the tower, I prayed for you. for you, so that your disbelief can be overlooked. and i thought of the city in july, and the rain clouds that rumbled across the greasy alley.

what is to let go? your daunting smile and the grandma tales that spoke of loyalties. lies -I am convinced. promised loyalties? who framed this clause?

My compound. Eu(1,2-BDC)(phen)bredwards.Cl3. H2O

Expecting both ligands to be bidentate chelate. Although phen could turn out to be tridentate. I need to maximize yield of the solvothermal synthesis. However, thanks to the global mailing system, the ionic liquid is not in, even after ordering it one month in advance.

The ionic liquid I am using for synthesis is called ECOENG-212. IUPAC name for the compound is 1-Ethyl-3-methylimidazolium ethyl sulfate. I am yet in the process of defining the chemical composition of "bredwards". Having defined it, I will soon write down the abstract.

So far, that's the plan.

la lune qui flotte

and there you were. burnt by the sunlight and the smell of solitude. i swear in my name, i have missed you with my soul. so these are my words for you.

i love you.

and i spoke to that sheet of emptiness. those charcoal bricks, stacked up since the war. the great war where we dropped a peel of sweat.

Je sens sous tes lèvres, une odeur de fièvre, de gosse mal nourrie, et sous ta caresse, je sens une ivresse, qui m'anéantit. (I smell on your lips, a scent of fever, of an underfed kid, and under your caress, I feel a drunkeness, that kills me).

note

to those three people in my life, who gave me comfort and joy, i want to thank you today.
one is lost, one is gained, one is fading.

i can feel the pulse of this whirl of change. a strange numbness creeping in every day. not that i know the reason, nor do i think i ever will. it's a sort of make or break array. it makes me laugh -the fact that i envisioned this. so subtle and smooth. and i stand at this spot. questioning questions and swatting hopes.

remember when we used to sit and count water drops? the gurgling rain by the window pane, spread across a netted screen. peaceful and calm, you would talk of strangers and candle stands. and bow your fingers in the shape of stars.

it feels like home again. i swear. awkward, yes. like a narrow displacement to a place that wasn't mine. oh listen, why did we come home again? because you said let's run away from this rage. and i said but this rage never ends. so what you said, and pushed my hand away from your chest. but i want to go home. why would they be jealous of me i ask you. and you keep quiet.

you fake plastic beast, i win this game

remember when we started this game? you and i. sitting at the table. flipping through tears and weaknesses. and we decked those cards. you the taker. me the giver.

and i saw through your eyes. at least a hundred times. and didn't say anything. because we're two bodies and a million minds.

this is my trail of imperfection.

recollection

and in the middle of the sea, we quibbled like strangers. two bodies. five minds. because i want your voice. the raspy and chirpy monotone in which you express love. i count your breaths. seven...ten...twelve...twenty-nine...fifty-six. and it stops. you wake up, stretch your soul, arch your knuckles and leave the room. but you leave behind footprints on the carpet. and i collect them when you're gone. they are in my music box. my monopoly.

but you've lost the game. in this endless whirl of conscience and regret, i hear your drones. i remember you. everyday. you remind me of clouds. and innocent rain. that shade of gray scribbled on your grave. i have your fingers in my color box. pitched with pastel. a dark shade of red. but wait. you deserve white. because you are white. or at least you were, till i insulted your blood.

i want a train. if you can give me one, i will give you my finger. i swear i will. and i will trail up to the war lord and spit on his knee. in Paris, you will see, how much i fume. and if you knock at my door, i will trim your sleeves.

i miss your eyes. they are beautiful and round. a mix of brown and green, like the saturday sky.

you know, you selfish clown, i want to be like you. every second of every day that passes by, i want to be like you. more and more. self-conserved. self-preserved. i want to be like you, shut up in a box without ventilation, so that even the air can't feel your bare skin. so that i am not the stereotype of a shadow, or a rain cloud that drizzles rain aimlessly across borders. because i want to construct this alley with pebble stones that you have never seen, or smelt, or touched. because your solitude is my envy.

you selfish clown, i want you back. i need your soul and your cleansing blood so that i never regret my days. so that those silly tittle tattles don't come in my way to peace. i need your breath, because i have your fever. and it won't go away, i swear. it won't, until you tie me a ribbon and tell me that you will give me your solitude.

i need it and you need to understand. come on, selfish clown, perk up your soul

note

and this is why, i said the other day, let's sit down and count the stars. it's been a long long time since dover days, and i've forgotten your face. just a little bit, while the color fades away. and there's no one to tie your hair, you silly girl, because you run away every time i see you.
it's the grass you've never liked that i miss the most. and this serene spread of mist all over the mountain, hewing a waft of cool, wet air all over you.
and then was home. in the middle of woods and bricks -in a small lighted corner that i had once seen in my dreams. do you know what it smells like -this potion of mud and sweat drizzled with my patience? of course not.

because i know it is all about your proximity. and your disregard for distance. and your thumb twiddling tendencies to gravitate. calm down, little one, this is just the beginning.

for you

this is the least i want to do for you. i'm not a believer in expensive gifts, i've told you that before. so i wanted to write to you and let you know the meaning of my words. yes. this is for you.

i've thought about those words trilling in your voice. the hush and sonority of your emotions pouring out into the darkness of a closed book case. i will not lie. i felt the digression hitting me on my face. i felt the reality slipping away to the tunes of an unsung song, wrapped and coned in a blanket of blur. losing myself.

and i lit a candle in your name, in the darkness of 3 am. in the hallway, where a flurry of shuffled feet ricocheted into silence. you cannot imagine this illegal portrait of self-caricature. of broken rhythms crackling through this grease. the fluid moonshine on the grass. and i think i saw my reflection. on a mirror by the sweat.

i just wanted to apologize to you for the thick wall which developed. all of a sudden, from a parallel to the square. my words may seem meaningless today, and my emotionality -an open rupture of redemptive strides; but i swear there is a meaning to all this. there is a back-pull that i have felt. in your eyes, which sometimes tire. in your smile, which sometimes weep. in your smell, which sometimes cringe. and in this shady architecture of thick and thin, of greed and rage, of milk and dusk -you will be in my heart. forever.

i promise.

five notations

this is for you. if you think you know me well enough, you should know who this is for.

i read through it again. and i felt a little unsettled. i don't know whether i would describe it as a sporadic sting racing through my being or more of an unclear smokiness of thoughts. but sometimes i feel tangled in this web. sometimes untangled. sometimes dubious. sometimes unwanted. sometimes doubted and mis-spelt. don't get me wrong. this is not about me.

but i feel scared for you. you know, even a few weeks ago, i had really wanted to question your frivolity. your sense of personal gravitation really made me question your ability to float onto the drift of situation and consequence. and i have often tried to muse and find self-fulfilling explanations to many of those. and you know what i love the most? your ability to distinguish the white from coal.

i think you did the right thing. trust me, i have full faith and confidence in you. and i know you are a responsible individual to make the radical choices. i know you analyze reflections and shadows in your moments of solitude. and i know you have tears dripping through your conscience because of this momentary disillusionment. this discomforting spiral of falling out and creeping frustrations that nudge at your sleeves. and i can see how you make an effort to hem it all together. you are the master of your choices. i know. i know i have said that at least half a dozen times before. but i have faith in you. i know you did the right thing.

in your little maze of secrets, just know this. this world is your cornerstone.

imagine.

note

i will write a note for you tomorrow. i promise. i have something to say. i feel afraid of being repetitive, but i will write it for you tomorrow.

the world is your cornerstone. imagine.

a morning tale

i promised myself that this won't be too elaborate, and i'll stick to my promise.

i've been listening to those lyrics again. and you know what's amusing? somehow they don't make me pensive any more. i don't know what to call this. it's an awkward situation to nuzzle in. unprecedented and unexpected. i know i am right in this regard.

you will see it soon. you wonder what?

destruction always has a reconstruction. not necessarily following the same blueprint, but a reprisal.

a note

i knew you were not as subtle and simple as i carved you out to be: it all came out today. the least i can say is that i am glad i saw your relatively more-realistic self than what i got accustomed to seeing. this is not my time of regretting or fanning away offenses that have circled around in volatile rings. nothing of this really matters to me, because i feel i can now rationalize my living with your imagination. i can be a mute spectator only till a certain limit. but no. not anymore. i am scared to open my mouth and curse you. i have my own reasons that i will not share. you have your own conflicts. i have my own interferences. you have your own priorities. i have mine. i have my own gullibility, which i think you might have seen through. but it was my fault really to have wrapped around in such liquid transparency.

it just makes me laugh how i knew this was coming. i knew it. my forebodings are usually not incorrect. but it is alright, change is a necessity; for both you and i and the rest of our surroundings with one pointed directive. you wait and watch, things will change further. and the castle will break till those tingly grains of sand melt away. just wait a little longer. you will see how you and i become radical strangers in this whole quasi-real illusory relationship. you will see how truths will weave with lies and reservations. you will see how those emotions slide away into a pocket book of lies.

you will see it soon.

don't worry.

a tuesday in january

so you finally curled up to me today. i don't know if this is deservance, or something that you will call a product of spontaneity -but it took me off by surprise. you smiled at me a number of times -the first drift from all the toothy grins that you've given me in the past couple of months. and you whispered occasionally. i didn't realize the reason or the purpose then. i'm afraid, i still haven't. then you touched my skin sporadically. i observed your long silken hair strands trembling along your shoulders, like a coward wave. rippling in delusion across a web of imaginations that i had learned to escape. you remind me of home, in your own little way. i don't know why your tenderness fascinates me, or your caustic humor. i don't know why i've secretly looked at your nail art and scribbled ridiculous poems on paper bags. or smelled your hair, like a deranged maniac. or sprinkled pepper on milk.

setting that aside, for the first time have i earned your honesty. weighing on cynicism and friendship, it was a question of deservance. i won't be a doll for your advantage. no. not even a paraplegic with cosmetic limbs.

never.

inkdrop

i think i have had a latent preoccupation with molding the future. yes, you and i have had nights after nights of conversation, in that little television room by the piano. and you've pointed out bricks at me: the careless pattern on the wall with perforated cement slabs. and you've couched up on your life, your devastations and expectations of the trail of emerging thoughts. moseying around through your personal history, your losses and gains, your vigorous contentions of religion and abortion. i have valued all your thoughts -they've made sense to me. a lot more than i had ever imagined.

i have been up all night listening to that song. the song, that you told me yesterday reminded you of all the times you've given way to your suppressed emotionality. and you've shed pearls of sentiment through the slits of your eyes, heavy with thought and disbelief. but i have loved the way you've brushed aside those moments and moved on. the untiring simplicity with which you've smiled at people, embraced them like you've known them for years. have you ever realized your infectious sense of optimism? i have valued it a lot. and so have a lot of your people, and the womb in which you have twiddled with destiny. single handedly.

you know who you are. don't you?