It's a strange kind of waiting

What is this game
 Of hide and seek?
You hide
 I seek in desperation
 And when I seek you out
 I don't say
 What I thought I would say
 We meet
 Everyday
 Sometimes we skip days
 Then days turn to weeks
 And weeks to months
 And we meet again
 We play the same game
 Over and over again
 Since the first time
 Five years ago
 I loved you then
 As only a child could
 I hate you now
 As only a scorned young woman could
 It's a strange kind of waiting
 Waiting for you to fade.

I write to you

I am writing to you now,
Writing to you makes me sane,
I imagine that you can hear the tone of my voice
I have a frightfully wild imagination
 Quite displaced from reality
 I wonder if you understanding my world is one of them.
 But I still write to you,
 I no longer care if you read them attentively,
 Smile appropriately at the amusing anecdotes
 Or just leave them sealed.
 It has become a drug now-
Writing to you.
Some posted, others still gathering dust in my locker
 Between the pages of my history books, between my sketches
 An out pour of my miseries, my love
 My sadness, my curiosities, my fears
 And also about the little delights
 Of waking up too early on Sunday mornings,
And that little girl who smiled and waved at me,
 And how badly I wanted her as my doll.
 That, all that and much more I write to you.

Wait for me

When I am gone
 Love me sometimes
 Remember the last lines we spoke
The last glances of longing and love
 And something that only the thought
 Of impending separation can bring
 Take care of you because I love you so
 Take care of things that might cause pain
 When your eyelids drop heavy
Pray a bit if you can
 Drop in a word for me
I will see you in my dreams now
You with your beautiful eyes
Hold me close, sing me to sleep,
 Cast your nets and bring me back
Our city of dreams, our city of awakening,
 I know you will find its soul
 If you do find mine too.
 Tell me you will wait for me
 As I take my time to come back to you
 Because the heart loves you more than it can bear.

Our love is a twisted thing

I try to hate you

With daggers of last night’s outburst
With the strength of every ache that I went through
I see your love as self constructed and self centred
Through the prism of my rage
The thousand year old rage of one
Stuck between girlhood and womanhood
I devise ways of hating you
The instrument of silence
The tool of insolence
I count number of days I should not talk to you
Weeks I should not meet you
Months I want you to suffer
I want to summon all my hate
Fill it to the brim
And throw it all at you
Because my love is a twisted thing.
Then you say a hi
And all of it is gone in an instant
All of it is wiped clean
I no longer remember why I hated you
A part of me mourns the loss of the passionate hate
But the person becomes like a character in a movie
Living the dramatic life
Saying the thundering heartbreaking dialogues
Someone divorced from me.
Because it’s hard to hate you
When you say my name and look at me like that
Your love is a twisted thing too

This is Anger Writing

Mark it

The humiliation
Every time they laughed at
Your narrow eyes, your yellow skin
Mark the scars they made
When they raped your girls
The blows that killed your young men
Memorise their names
Never forget them
Mark the loss of those dreams
The dead harboured
The snide disapproving glances
Of the passers-by
Mark it, put it in a box, label it
Sort it out, classify it
You might need them as evidence
Or witness for what you are
About to set out for
Is this the outrage Herzl
Felt at the Dreyfus case,
Scapegoat-ed because he was a Jew
That even after a thousand years
They would never be integrated,
Your genius mistaken for crime?
Summon this anger
When the time comes
You might need this to build
Your life up again.

Aftertaste

The lingering warmth
On the tips of my fingers
Where yours had stayed
I now feel its aftertaste
Like the effect of a Schubert piece
Beauty wrought in longing
Like some things which don’t have a name
Your delicious mouth
And its aftertaste
Like coffee on a rainy Sunday evening
So that when I go away
There is still a mark
That continues to say
Those words we whisper
Into each other’s ears
Amidst peals of laughter
Stolen kisses and silent embraces
Perhaps on your unmade bed
The imprint of your scent
On my clothes
Also lies the aftertaste.
Till I swim back
Into your arms again.

Having a smoke with you

Having a smoke with you
Is stupid, as stupid and pointless as chasing cars,
But i would rather sigh with you, blow wisps of our dreams
Draw them for you with the spiralling smoke
Partly because I feel like a five year old kid who draws on walls,
Goes hop-hop on the sidewalks, partly because I love you so much
For reasons so numerous, and sometimes for no particular reason
Partly because i can sit with you all day, all night long
And talk about my fascination with Jews, at how brilliant they are and how determined
And that really kills me when I think about Munich
How that girl in class looked so beautiful today that I could simply die
Partly because we look so amazing in that photograph
And how my hand fit so snugly in yours, as though it was crafted that way
And when i think of all the places i want to visit,
I think of waltzing with you in Prague, Sitting on the banks of the Bosphorus with you in Istanbul
And that’s probably where Orhan Pamuk fell in love
Also because i want to take you back to Bosnia where i lived
By the river Drina where they found land mines
And i somehow cheated death though i used to built sand castles there
There are landmines in Vietnam too you told me
Partly because i fell in love with Delhi because of you
Even when i was determined to detest it
It now feels like home
Also because i love the sandwiches you make, they are so-so good
That i feel like clapping my hands and giving you a standing ovation
Also because i can sit in silence with you and the smoke builds up that silence for us
And it’s just wonderful to watch you from the corner of my eyes
And Love in that silence in the fleeting twilight hours in the yellow light that shines on you
And your shadow seems so aesthetic that i wish i had a camera with me then
And i feel i am living an extra-ordinary experience everyday,
Something others are cheated out of
And i just wanted you to know that it’s awefreakingsome
Which is why i am telling you about it.