Feather

Back then she drew all sorts of sighs out of him;
The gust tripped pedestrians three floors down.
He’d chuckle at the funny faces she’d make and feel the love brimming within.
Other times he’d see her body as uninhabited as the other planets,
And he’d moan as he found his residence there.
The things she said would knock him out,
Like a rogue baseball player with an agenda or an affliction or no talent.
But then her visage turned to fire and dried up the juicy potion of their love,
And now the air coming out of his mouth,
Wouldn’t even lift a feather off the ground.

Pathetic Little Story

It’s a pathetic little story I have for you
Of why I couldn’t do what you wanted me to.
No matter how I say it, or what I say,
I really can’t hide what happened that day.
She came up beside me so fast, I’d barely moved;
Like the train that almost hits you
When you’re lost staring at city lights,
Or just, so lost, in the groove.
She came up beside me so fast, I barely even knew;
Like the words we hear on TV
Before we even change the channel
They’re a part of our vocabulary.
She came up beside me so fast, I thought it was you
Like the times you come into my dreams, into my head
Make me believe you’re so alive, and then just as quickly,
Go back to being dead.

3

Once upon a time,
There were 3 youths spending 3 years together.
Each one odder than the last,
They'd leave the world their classmates were in,
And meet in one they'd created for themselves.
In this world they laughed a lot,
Talked and thought and learned.
This world was brutally honest.
This world had no secrets.
This world knew twistedly lasting love,
With headphones, style, boobs and blown up feet,
They lived through each others' lives.
Imbibing from each other things they knew not,
They were blind to their blended tastes,
Deaf to the similarity in their voices
They remained who they were meant to be,
A mix if wit, charm, spunk, intellect, and stances,
For they still saw each other as their solidly original selves.
Little did they know the 3 sided closed figure of faith,
They had constructed through their union.
This unbreakable triangle had each of them in a corner,
Yet together they were a lesson to school kids all over the world.
Unwittingly they taught how being 3 youths people see as one,
Doesn't mean any of them were less of any one.

For one of the feathers in my cap

Yes, I suppose, you do behave a lot like a mother would,

I wouldn't have minded sharing blood with you if i could.

There's things about me which only you know,Which is uncanny since you know my life's always on show.

I needn't think twice before I say something to you,
For the times we misunderstand each other are so blissfully few.

Suddenly we'll discover we share yet another idiosyncrasy,And, just like I do, you'll feel like you got even closer; bonded with me.

I'm interested in everything you have to say,And I hope you are too because you know I can talk the whole damn day.

You're not going anywhere, you'll always partially belong to me,And as long as you're you and I'm me, I don't see how why we wouldn't be happy

Eventuality

Judge not I, for I is better than you,

I need not you, since I have I.

I judge you, for it is needed,

But, only because I is I.

Well, we all know that'a lie,

For, I need not the madness,

To push me over the edge,

Sadly, all I need,

Is you to be a bitch.

All these years we lasted together,

Without I, won't you extinguish?

Do you and I matter so less,

That you'll just let us slip?

Did what we did, all those times,

Have no meaning?

Did what we heard, and saw and said,

How do those memories,

Not stop you from leaving?

Eventually, I know, I will give up,

And the two peas in a pod,

Will be separated forever,

But, just this once, I can't help but wish,

That you'd come and say Sorry,

And stop being a bitch.

If there ever was a time,

To let the ego go,

That time is now,

I'd like you to know,

The thinness of the ice,

We're treading on,

We better stay together,

Or the strength will be gone.

Trust I, you need I,

Just as I need you; 

Redefining love and friendship alone,

Is something neither of us can do.

Rubin

You make me laugh in ways no one can, and no one will Ever understand. Ever. 
You are my very own jackass. 
You're such an animal..that you're more human than anyone I know. 
You sleep 20 hours a day, and the other four you watch me eat, and eat yourself. 
But, awake or asleep, you're the only being in my life whose existence I've always been thankful for. 

Every little move you make,
Every breath you take,
Every plate you break,
Every snore you fake,
Every time you trip and fall,
Every time you make a hole in a ball,
Every time you ignore my call,
Every time, everything, I love it all.

You're beautiful.
You're so bloody perfect. 
People think you can't read, but I know, that sitting on my lap right now, you can read every word.

I LOVE YOU, RUBIN : D


You piss me off SO much sometimes. I think I've even abused in Hindi around you. 
You get embarrassed if I change while you're in the room.
Just today morning, you were chasing a shadow of your tiny tail that was showing on the ceiling. 
I don't know you became such an adorable fool but GOD am I thankful that you did.
"Maybe you were born with it, maybe it's Maybelline"
Didi painted one of your nails red, didn't she?


Your poses are CLASSIC.
You are the most photographed dog in the history of the world.

That's just one of them.

The best thing is when I'm lying down, and I'm feeling a little cold, and then (after much persuasion) you come and lie down with me, and the cold vanishes. You don't lie down near me, you lie down ON me- you push me off the bed just a tad, and settle in nice and warm- with your neck on my face and whiskers too.

It's been a whole year since I've had my phone, and despite how much I'm addicted to taking pictures of people (mainly myself but you get the drift), you are the majority of my photographed content. 70-30, I'd say.

The best thing about you is how you behave in real life. I wish I could show people how adorable you are and how MANIC you are and how UNCONTROLLABLE you are - seriously, the only reason my parents worry when I take you for a walk at 11 at night is that you might pull yourself away, always '(rubin's) safety first'- and how MUCH YOU MAKE ME LAUGH.

Maybe one day I'll learn how to put up videos and actually do that.
I haven't even put up enough photos of you yet. Give it some time. Slowly, you guys might actually see what he is for real.

Oh, and by the way, if you go anywhere without me, especially to a place from where return is impossible, my life will come to an end.

"I will follow you into the dark."

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

It started off with my father shouting and me feeling guilty. He told me I was wrong for being inconsiderate about his feelings. He told me I was irresponsible. He told me I took him for granted, always expecting him to be available to come with me wherever I wanted to go, but never returning the favour. He said I never respected his privacy, walking into his room whenever I wanted, taking whatever I wanted, but still having the audacity to slam the door in anger if he ever dared to walk into mine unannounced. 


He told me I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone at night and I didn't, for I realised there was probably some meaning behind his many, many words. I respected the fact that he was so many years older than me, and that that had to hold for something, and there was no use denying it. I used to defend his innumerable, immeasurable lectures to my sister, who being much older had already reached that stage of mental independence and rebellion I now find myself in. 


I used to be able to justify his regular temper outbursts saying that he had reached an age where he deserved nothing but respect and understanding. I understood that I was meant to look past the way he was saying things, for it was sometimes oppressively unpleasant, and look instead at what he was saying, and try and gain something from it. I used to feel ashamed when he accused me of lying. I used to care when he said he thought I was a disappointment. My conscience used to creep up on me, you know? Well, I used to know. Used to.


Then, something happened.


I can't seem to put my finger on what it was, and I think that's because it wasn't the result of just one incident. It was a revelation, a building of opinions and a downward spiral of attitude.

Now it's like, "Oh Jesus, they're talking again. Mom's waving her arms again. Dad's giving me the 'I am disappointed in you' look. Sigh. Let's get some pizza, yes?"


They talk and talk and talk and I don't feel the need to listen. Alright, I may listen, for I am physically capable of doing that, but there is no emotional or mental effort on any level, to absorb what is being said.


I have a feeling I know who to blame for this paradigm shift in my level of giving a rat's ass.


Contrary to popular belief, it's not me. It's my sister.


See, my sister and I never used to talk much. Then, I started dating someone, and that changed, because now we had something to hide from the common enemy: our parents. They could not know about my boyfriend. God, I made the mistake of once mentioning to them that  this male friend of mine had become my best friend (though he was indeed my boyfriend) and they went completely berzerk; they brought his name up at every possible opportunity to prove how I'm wasting my life, and how they know nothing about my life (well, they were right about this one), and how I spent hours on the phone yapping at unimaginable speeds (this had to be pure assumption, because even thought it was true, they had no way of knowing that unless they skipped work and stalked me the whole day) about things that had no meaning or value of any sort. I think my parents are the kind who are going to assume I am going to remain a virgin till my wedding night. So, basically, there was no way in living daylight that I was going to tell them. 


My sister and I started talking about how we could avoid my parents from getting to know about him. This obviously involved very grueling planning and coordination. Not to mentioned innumerable instances of humour and mockery. So, we bonded.


One thing led to another and before you knew it, we were talking about everything- my friends, my school work, stuff on television, music, boys, my boy at the time, her friends' names, our parents and their oppression, how to deal with the pressure, her work life etc etc. We got on pretty well.


Don't think this means we're all hunky dory. We still fight. Mean, mean fights. Both of us can be pretty ruthless in our verbal tactics. We can break a rock. And against each other, it's hell on earth, it is. Before, people used to try and convince me the fighting we suffered was normal, but since it was the only communication my sister and I ever used to have, I couldn't help but disagree. Now, since it's part of so much more, it's tolerable.


Anyhow, the reason I brought her up, is because I have a sneaky feeling it's her influence that has made me so thick skinned when it comes to my parents, and rules in general. I no longer feel any concern or regard for my parents' ramblings. Somewhere, I guess I've just accepted that whatever I do, they will have a problem with it. And this theory has been proven right over and over again. Further, I think I've told myself that at the end of the day, they're parents like any other, so they should expect me to care just as much as other kids do, and not as much as I have my whole life, which has always seemed to be a bit more than normal. 


I probably sound so heartless.
But believe me when I say this.
Every moment that I laugh with them, every time my dad says he's proud of me, every time they give me a compliment (sparingly so; their excuse is that they don't want it to go to my head), it swells me with happiness.


But that doesn't happen very often. And most of the time, it's just torture, and lectures- which are rapidly becoming synonymous. And I can't help but turn a blind eye, and a deaf ear. It's inhuman to expect me survive if I let myself get affected every single time they try and tell me some other way of doing something.


So, I'm sorry that I'm such a problem, and I'm sorry I've disappointed you so much by being a pleasant, smart, funny, creative, caring, modest, humble daughter who turned bad merely because of circumstances and now find myself incapable of caring, but, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

Exclusivity

I was talking to one of my friends that day and I told him something I'd told him so many times before.

"But, you belong to everyone."
"No, I don't!"
"Uh. Ya-huh."
"What the fuck, why, why, what the fuck?"
"Oh ho," I said coaxingly, "because you never know how much...it...is there from your side, right?"
"Ofcourse you do."
"No, we don't."
"So that means I belong to everyone?"
"Yep."
"No."
"Good one."

But its true.
Knowing you're friends with someone whose friends with you more than they are with other people is what makes you close friends with them.
I wouldn't be as close to my best friend if I knew he was just as close to five other people.
Exclusivity.
Even in plaotnic relationships that means a HELL lot.

Yeah, that's about it.

Oh, and the boy in this post is also the boy whom I wrote a poem about. A poem I've been promising to give him for....two...years now. I just don't understand why I keep forgetting.

But, he knows he's awesome and how much he means to me.


Consistent, remember?
Two years : )

He's one of the few, really few, people I haven't changed my opinion about since I got to know him. And when I say "got to know him", I mean, "started talking to him."

You know how you say things like, "Oh, he would never do that", and it makes you feel nice to know you know someone well enough to say something like that? Well, with him the "thing he would never do" is, nine times out of ten, the wrong thing.

But, you sound strange on the phone.

Yeah, it's you, Abhinandan.

Oh, and you're frigging hilarious.
Or, maybe that's just me.

Go away.

Sometimes you feel like telling that to people, don't you?

I was telling my two best friends (or 'the reasons for my existence' as I like to call them) about a particular person in my life who I've recently become friends with. We had known each other long before, but we'd never really been friends. I had thought that was changing. But then she went ahead and did something which showed exactly why I didn't like her, why I hadn’t made an effort to get to know her better before, despite our geographical and possible even mental proximity.

What I said above may or may not be true. This girl may or may not exist. But I'm using her as a means to get my point across.

My point being, there is a certain level to which one should get involved in someone else's life. I'm not talking about best friends or even good friends. I’m talking about people who you talk to once in a blue moon. We all learn that lesson somehow. Stay with someone only till it’s easy. Move away when its not fun anymore, or it will turn into something bad. 

I've learned that lesson too. Over and over again. When it's not fun, it probably isn't worth it. Worse, when you can’t justify the pain a particular friendship or relationship is putting you through, it's time to free yourself from it. 

When I tell people something good about myself or something good about my life, or something good about someone in my life, I expect them to listen, take it in, comment, have a conversation or two, and then move on. What I don’t expect is them to become envious of it and try to procure it for themselves. Especially if that means taking it away from m. Get your on good luck, I’d say to them. Learn to be satisfied with what you have. Don’t be an imposition in my life.

And don’t think I’m being arrogant here, cause I’m not. I’m just bringing out a very basic point. If someone doesn’t want to talk to you, why would you want to talk to them? Wouldn’t you rather not talk to anyone than to talk to someone who you know for a fact is secretly hoping you’d take a hike?

Maybe it’s just me, but I doubt it. I don’t think anyone would like to be in a situation where we’re talking to someone, or engaging in a conversation with someone who’d much rather us get a life of our own.

I guess this is where that whole “its only justifiable when it comes to you” thing comes into play. Because I have best friends who have proven, over the last many years, that they will accept me for whatever the fuck I decide to do, I believe by now, at this level of maturity, however less it may be, we should have figured out who wants us around and who doesn’t.

Fine, maybe it’s just me.

But just please.

Go away.