Sunday, April 22, 2012

layer of love

when
the missing, the longing,
and the love for one person
is healed by another,
one layer seamlessly 
blending into the next

or

when
holding hands with someone
you blush at the thought
of someone else,
the layers 
grating against each other

or

when
you blow half a promise
to several people
the sum of all layers
still not making a whole.


you begin to wonder
when it was 
that love started
being laid out in layers,
like the slices of apples on a plate,
one overlapping the next,
instead of being 
one whole cube
meant for a single person...

 
maybe it was always so
love always came in layers
in order of lovers' appearance in life,

maybe it was always so
love always came in layers,
the layers different for every lover,

and it was only the storytellers
who were obsessed with romeos and juliets

Friday, April 20, 2012

तिमीलाई म के भनुं - VI (off the chart)

running out of superlatives
may not be a bad thing after all
i get the opportunity
to create unique adjectives
that are not even on the scale

glittering golden sunshine
tumbling waterfall
melody played by an angel

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Until i met you

I hadn't realized
That i had been sleepwalking.

My entire life.

Thank you for waking me up.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Jealous

Who are the people
Who day after day
Bask in your company
That is as dear as
A cherished winter sun

Do they even know
How lucky they are

Friday, April 13, 2012

love in times of technology

i have deleted your number from my phone
so that i don't dial it accidentally
could you also delete it from my head
so that i don't think of it accidentally?

it was so much better five years ago
if i had the urge to dial your name
one too many times
i could just delete you from the phone

and i now i have to deal with
gmail yahoo facebook twitter
at any of which you may pop up
and put your name back in my head
all over again
and that's entirely aside from the
twitch in my hands
that inches towards the green dot
beside you name

self destructive

the inability to let go of
your worst moments
inadequacies
humiliations
bad dreams
bad dreams turned real

even when
everything is going well in life

the urge
to introduce
only the most sorrowing part of you

the tendency
to bring up in conversation
the failures, the nadirs
when all is cheerful

the need
to identify
with only the worst part of you

feeling as if
you are not yourself
when you are happy

because
after all
everyone can be happy
only your sorrow
makes you unique
maybe even special

(unknowingly wishing
that like a black spot
on a child's face
it wards off
the evil of jealousies.
brings you love.
because,
it is lonely at the top)

signs - III

infatuation with peter pan,
the one who never ages

is a sure sign
that you count nothing
that happened
after the age of twelve
as important

it is a hint
that it is impossible
to make you happy

because nothing counts
nothing even comes close
to those glory days

survivor's guilt

the survivor's guilt
that once used to happen
to people in stories,
people in shipwrecks,
fires, earthquakes,
and other such major tragedies
and rack the life
of those who lost their loved ones
and felt guilty for living on

now

has lost its
superlatives
hysterics
drama
hubris
heroes

and pesters ordinary people
in small ways.
making you feel bad
for getting higher grades
when your friend has worked
harder than you
and you know
is crying secretly.

making you feel bad
for having an admirer
that your friend admired in the first place
and in addition to crying secretly
your friend now tries hard to keep it a secret
that she also despises you.

the pat from the boss
the lottery ticket
the complements
the radiant complexion
the money
the effortlessness of it all
(perhaps the most annoying)

instead of destroying the hero's life
with extreme pain, anguish and remorse
the survivor's guilt now pinches, pokes
and generally induces a mild everyday gloom
in a quintessential young woman's life

in the stories
the hero dies, becomes a monk
or performs an extraordinary act
of selfless social service
to cure survivor's guilt.
none of which is really appropriate
in dealing with its
reduced, everyday avatars.
there are no stories that help
with the guilt
of a charmed life.
of being thrusted with
unwanted little victories.

perhaps it was always so.
perhaps the reduced forms always existed.
only no stories were ever written
about anything lesser than kings.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Compartments

How easy it is to store life
In little chat box like compartments
That don't spill into each other

And how unhealthy it is
To navigate

Friday, April 6, 2012

You were so addictive

No wonder the withdrawal symptoms are shutting me down

When i promised

no one will take
me
away from
you
i guess i forgot to count
me

it's not your fault

the fault,
my dear,
in ending up
where we didn't wanna go in the first place,
is mine alone

it was me
who was flooded with warnings
but chose to turn the other way
you, on the other hand,
had no such restrictions in the first place

only after we had come too far
did i realize
that the "we" part of
"we don't wanna go"
was a fallacy
there was only me
foolish me
who counted on your warning system
to pick up where mine left

i lost

i always assumed that
i would be able
to draw the line
at the next step
not realizing that
you walk around with
an eraser in your pocket,
just in case

and so i lost
and so i lost
in ways many more than one

i lost the battle
when you erased my line.
which meant
that i lost my conviction
in my own battle skills.
and finally i lost you
because i would rather hold on
to my tattered conviction
and draw new lines
than hold on to you.

among all these losses
is the little unmourned one
that i have no time for right now.
the loss of my grip
over my own heart

I gained:
Yug Zee Tah
Archal1

poly-amor?

when you are negotiating
with half a dozen people
at the same time,
your "I love you"
doesn't bring comfort
but a vast loneliness

early one morning

i woke up
to a heartful of you

a whistling train it was
that woke me up
only to remind me that
we used to hear each other
even above the whistle

amidst the hustle and bustle
and pushing and quarreling
we held each other
(my messed up hair
seemed to remember)
and looked only at each other
(so thought my
early morning bleary eyes)

though i was so sure
that everyday,
for years and years
i had started my day
by unleashing my dreams upon you
and ended it 
by unburdening my woes on you
as we sat side by side
in the jerking and whistling train

search as i might
no proof could i find
that we ever rode that train

until many days later
when the ship of my search
anchored at the night before
and knew for sure
that we never rode it

like myths
that are always in the air
and you never know
where they came from,
stories
in our hearts
that you don't remember
anyone putting there,
your love turned out to be
a memory
of a moment
that never happened.

we never did ride it, after all

it was just a memory
a memory
wrought from dreams
when i had fallen asleep
with a heartful of you

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Dear prince charming

I love it so
When poems drop out of your mouth
Like pearls
In a certain oft-quoted story

I have to say
That i prefer your poems
over those pearls any day
pearls are so cliched anyway!

(Having said that,
I should watch what i say around you.
I don't care to find out
What the linguistic equivalent of frogs is
:) )

signs - II

i try to pretend
that life is normal,
livable and complacent
without you

but the damn shaking foot
always gives me away

(sometimes the nail biting,
sometimes the rigidly curled toes,
sometimes an inncoent piece of paper
unkmowingly torn to shreds,
always, moist and trembling hands,
and in extremities,
when I have noticed and quelled all else,
a deep, nauseating pain
in limbs that I did not even know existed)

frying pan or fire?

if i cannot have you
for the whole journey
i would rather have you
for two steps
than not at all

i m glad
you strayed across
the path of my life
i m glad
our paths crossed
for a few ephemeral moments

it turned out to be
no more than two steps, ultimately
but i will take it,
rather than walk through life
without an inkling that
dreams do come true sometimes

having you

means that
i can give up
what hurts me
however hard it is

because i know that
whatever i give up,
i m not alone

what doesn't kill, makes you stronger

having lost you
means that
i know i can survive
any other loss

Midwest from my eyes





Dandelions in the spring














Tulips in the summer










Insanely glorious iridescence in the fall










Gently swirling snow in the winter




























I am really jealous of people
Who live in real picture postcards all the year round

the ice maiden

you
make me wistful
for myself

i buy new dresses
i get a new haircut
fish out the lost eye liner
stuck behind the heavy closet.
after trying everything.
when i finally belive that
i can face you,
once again facebook tells me
that i will never be
as ethereally dressed
or as effortlessly beautiful
as you

(perhaps it is just as well
that facebook is here
i would probably
not survive your aura
if i came across it
sudden and unprepared
in real life)

(when will i stop
holding myself up
to your standards?)

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

what a woman wants

is a reiteration
of your attraction
and commitment
again and again
everyday

breaking the news to you

broke me apart

they say time heals all pains

they lied.

far from healing,
the pain grows every day.

you just get used to it

enough to predict

when it hurts the most
so that you can quarantine yourself
until you are fit for human company

and when it hurts the least
so that you can schedule
your sleeping pattern around it

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Ditee is unavailable at the moment

You offer me
    A fairy tale romance
And i play back for you
    A pre recorded message

Your voice

From afar
You sound like the first rains
That settles the swirling dust
And calms the agitated earth
Close by
You sound like a crackle of flames
Bursting to set the world on fire

काठमान्डुमा पानी पर्दा

बाढी मेरो पर्खाल मा आउँछ

# फेसबुक
# diaspora
# displacement

if a man smelled like old books

i would devour him

#what would your amortentia smell like?

माफ गरिदेउ मलाई

मेरा हिसाब किताबलाई
मैले जति जोड्दा पनि
मात्रा नपुगेको पल लाई

अर्को जन्ममा तिमीलाई
कवि भएर भेट्नेछु

Monday, April 2, 2012

Please forgive

My calculated fallacies
And fallacious calculations
Of moments that don't add up

Next time
I will come as a poet