Home Will Never Be The Same Again

All our lives so far our parents kept us strung to their cords,
Always protecting us, and often unintentionally neglecting
our need to face this world alone.

All our lives so far our parents kept telling us we are strong
and independent enough to live alone when required,
while also wanting deep within that such a day never comes
when they cannot be beside us.

All our lives so far we have been pseudo-independent,
and pseudo-strong and one fine day, we stepped out
of our transparent bubble, which was rather our ozone
since the time we were born.

What happens next is what we never expected from our lives,
but something that our parents' silent cries fail to show us;
that 'Home' will never be the same again.

We face new things, and with every new day, we need them more.
But the irony is, when they do come, we do not approve of their ways anymore.

We meet new people and make a family of our own,
But the irony is, you'll always call them your family first, no matter what age you grow.

Hurdles come and pass, so do good times,
Memories appear, reappear and fade till their translucent,
Yet the best time will always be those spent inside
the ozone of their love.

From 'staying' at home to 'visiting' home,
From our home to mine & parents',
Life shows us many instances of how a branch
broke out from a tree and became a tree of its own,
yet the new tree has in it the resins & gums of its parent
and so will its new branches and the trees to come.

The circle may probably never end.
Each branch breaks out to become a new tree,
each home gives way to newer ones.
But within every new home will lie the translucent memories of
the days when our lives were strung to our parents' cords,
only to remind us that
Home will never be the same again.

दर्द-ए-आशिक़ी/ The Pain of Love

ये दर्द-ए-आशिक़ी भी कमाल की चीज़ है,
जो तुझसे नाराज़ होना चाहूँ तो ख़ुद से खफ़ा हो जाऊँ।

The pain of love is so ironic,
that I end up being disappointed with myself for being upset with you.

An Untitled Thought; An Unwelcome Pain

The sensation of hollowness coming from within
is like some unknown force punching holes into my heart.
It has been a couple of nights since
a sense of disappointment is tearing me apart.

It's sad how some of those who love me dearly
do not or rather can not feel this discomfort I face.
Or maybe the very wrong I did is expecting them
to read me without knowing why it aches.

It all comes down to one thing in the end,
expectations fail you, not the ones who didn't meet them;
disappointments hurt you, not the ones you blame to have caused them;
and the hollowness is a reminder that life's but a cycle of fulls & empties after all.

Him

The onset of  autumn '16,

just half a month past monsoon,

when excitement about a new job, 

new people and new experience was plenty.

Day 1:

I struggle with a door latched by biometrics,

a watchman watching my failed attempts cluelessly,

a stranger opens the door for me, from the other side of the world I was just about to step into.

With an unrequited smile, I walked ahead curiously.

Few months of happy-work-life later:

With a room full of partially known faces,

faced with the obligation of spending 8 hours of forced fellowhood for 5-odd-days,

I sat excitedly next to the stranger who opened the door for me on Day 1.

As curious as I was about the week ahead, to talk to this stranger was the last thing in my mind that minute.

A few awkward glances later:

Pointing at the ring on my hand he asks "Who bought this for you?",

knowing what he'd meant to ask, I said, "Mom did. For my birthday."

Sharing mutual grins, we continued with our routine of practice,

which seemed to completely bore this man, while the exact opposite with me. 

5-odd-days-of-forced-fellowhood later:

At 5:00 AM in the morning, forced into the morning schedule,

was my Monday which was supposed to bring an utterly shitty week along.

1 hour past, I see myself looking at the mirror in the ladies room,

with a smile so wide and a tickle in the tummy.

Ridiculing my inane excitement at the sight of this person,

I decide to keep my sensibility hat on.

The days that followed were a mix of my one-sided conversations,

and his constant efforts to seem genuinely interested in hearing the trivial attention to details of my stories, which made no sense or meaning to this poor listener.

Crux of the matter by the end of this week: a new friendship in the making.

2-weeks-of-casual-coffee-times-at-work-and-hi's-&-shy's later:

Something about the person made me feel too clinged to vapid thoughts,

reminding me of my past, I ensured that I stayed glued to my sanity,

"We're just colleagues", I told myself every time I traversed to my imaginary world filled with amorous conceptions with this new person.

Giving in to my endlessly coercing mind resulted in us going on our first real date.

2-weeks-from-the-first-date-later:

Bombarding in my head were some questions I had no answer to,

"Is this love?", I asked. 

And ended the day with "What did I just do today? God, Why? Shouldn't I just have waited for another few weeks before falling? What will he think of me? Won't he think I am toooo desperate? What if he said it back because he just had to? What if he meant nothing like that?"

"Of course, it won't mean anything, nobody means so much in such short span. Just be okay with letting go anytime, if that happens to be the case", I ordered myself.

A few months of unknown terrain later:

Things kept happening, I keep feeling and unfeeling the feelings,

I keep doing and undoing my love,

typing and untyping some words that mattered, sending love letters like a clod,

and often wigging myself for being too much, feeling too much, thinking too much.

He said that he felt similar things too, which was probably the only saving grace to my asinine heart.

Belief was my armor and faith my savior when the questions I had still, received no real answers.

An-email-from-another-world later:

A sudden sense of joy and sorrow had blended into one moment of lump in my throat.

Tied up at work, with only 30 minutes left for the shift to end, he still managed to come to hear what I had to say.

A blend of happiness and excitement on his face gave some solace and relief to my heavily pounding heart.

Amidst the many things I was unclear about, there was one certainty in the scenario-that I was going to leave the place.

Neither of us knew whether we would last, but both of us knew that we could make us last.

Two-months-into-the-new-world later:

A casual summer day of '17, 

monsoon in my world, sunny in his,

thankful about the fact that we've lasted two months since the distance creeped in,

I hid silently beneath the kitchen window at his place.

Clueless about my arrival, he comes in and sees a bunch of chocolates and a hand-written love letter that meant not so exciting to his eyes till then.

Moments later, I ran closer and jumped on like a spider-monkey,

leaving his lips speechless for a couple of hours, till it finally sunk in his head that I was here for a surprise visit!

Little did we know that it only marked a new beginning to a deeper love for both of us.

Our month arrived:

By August, this was it. 

This is all that we needed; each other's companionship and love.

August was our month of love.

August marked the beginning of bigger words with real meaning,

with even more meaning in the silences we shared.

August marked the outset of a more valuable relationship, more committed partnership.

Today:

All I need to summarize happiness, peace, and contentment is: HIM.

We

Some days are tough to handle,
Some nights ruthless.

I always end up thinking about the possibilities of being with you,
Tricking the world fool and running away from everything,
All I want mostly is to be in your soothing company.

Because when the whole world seems to be changing wrecklessly,
You are my constant salvation
from the odd realities.
And when it comes to emotions, you know I'm not that easy,
But despite some twists and turns,
You and I are always back to what it's meant to be;
"We"

In Search of Solace in Solitude

Loneliness-
isn't associated with the lack of people to care for you;
isn't related to living alone;
does not come with the pain of unrequited love;
need not be caused by any act that left unhealed wounds.

It's more than just a feeling; beyond the purview of right and wrong.

It's that hollow sensation in your gut that pinches you when you're disappointed of being attached to people.

It's that lump in your throat that aches every time you don't utter something you were supposed to, because you think that there's no point; that it doesn't matter.

It's that quiver in your body when you are faced with something that you already know but weren't ready to accept so far. 

It's that loss of belief in the words of someone who matters; in words themselves; in the existence of true words; in the existence of truth.

There are different phases of being lonely; some shallow, some deep.

It does not necessarily represent you're sad. Or just does not ALWAYS mean so.

Why I Resist Home

I resist going home.
I resist being home to someone too.

I resist the very idea of home lately.
"Why, though?", I thought.

"Home is not a place but a form of love. It's hard to resist love, ain't it?"
"Why still?", I thought.

"Maybe because 'going home' comes with a pain of 'coming back', and 'loving them' comes with a pain of 'leaving them' with the uncertainty of 'not knowing when we'll meet again; whether we'll meet again'.

Loving, comes with the pain of letting go.
While the heart's become accustommed to loving, it is still painful while learning to let go, every single time I return from there. Perhaps, that's why", I thought.