Skip to main content

Resolution

 


I overslept on the cosy couch, 

Once again, 

I bet the bugs recognised me, 

The clock ticked on my time, 

The wind gossiped with the trees about my secret. 

I bet they would talk about my last 

resolution, 

Not to come here again, 

To visit him. 

But two bottles of island wine and some sweet talks at the bar

Made me come here. 

I read his eyes when he looked at me, 

There was despair and sleeplessness. 

In the air of intoxication and between the dimming lights, 

I tried to read his lips, 

I sensed the different alphabets 

trying to escape the choking

In his mouth. 

I remember strolling through the city, 

Amidst the happy cries of children

And honking of vehicles. 

At times I tripped and he held me, 

Telling 'I got you'. 

But he didn't, I tripped again

In front of the church, 

By the parking lot, 

In the sidewalks of the city fair, 

Where the horses of the merry-go-round mocked at me

While galloping around the center. 

My haziness overpowered my senses, 

Before I get here, 

To remember anything. 

But I see my framed picture 

Still looking at me from his bedside table. 

She seems to judge my weakness, 

Which made me, 

Stumble into him on purpose

when I shouldn't have. 

She seems to be a lot stronger than I'm now, 

But she is a beautiful stranger now, 

Lost in an alternate reality of happiness. 

All these walls and ceilings, paintings and draperies, 

Together sing a sorry song when I left

But please don't bother,

I can barely remember you and your ways. 

But I clearly remember him and his ways, 

Well enough to see nothing has changed. 


A. C

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reminders

I want you to remember The photograph, you loved On the wall, That reminds me Of the last spring Where the potted sunflowers At our home smiled And the hanging creepers Mumbled, Of the girl who was looking For someone. You saw a thousand figures Dancing in her pupils A Mexican woman in Her huipil, A drunken man with his Lyre; Looking for the right Strings,And A peahen waiting to mate. You admired the Vine stems heading North In the picture, The cheap beads that The girl wore And the broken bridge Behind her, From which a fish Jumped for a self introduction. And when you remember Your dear picture, I want to remind You of the Coffee cup that tasted Your lips, The laundry drugged By your smell And the mirrors that Reflected your images. And you should know that The sunflowers no longer smiled And the creepers were silent Till yesterday. But today when The rain sprinkled its drops I see clearly the pupil Of the girl, Dark and intense,...
Post a Comment
Read more

Tu Koi Aur Hai

The characters of Imtiaz Ali are always difficult to decipher and can only be done if the actors do complete justice to it. And two such celebrated characters of Imtiaz Ali are Ved and Tara of Tamasha . Meeting Ved in Corsica was accidental to Tara. Both of them came there to be alone and enjoy some time away from their busy life. But what destiny had for them was different. But for Tara, what happened in Corsica didn't just stay at Corsica. What attracted Tara towards Ved was his coolness and the quirkiness which ultimately made her fall in love with him and break up with her boyfriend. She continued to pamper the memories at Corsica even without knowing Ved or his name. But meeting Ved which she longed for four years and being his girlfriend was not what Tara wanted. Tara fell in love with the Ved whom she met at Corsica not the Ved at Delhi. But it was all difficult for the Ved who is actually battling bipolar disorder to accept his reality. Ved wanted to live the life that he d...
Post a Comment
Read more

Murmurings of Married Women

  I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town,  Of married women,  Dead and disappeared years ago.  I wonder what a time they had,  What a life they lived.  Their husbands weep and weep and forget them,  They praise how they looked after their women,  Covering in glittery gold,  Buying them silly silks,  Giving makeup for a make-over.  But still, the women murmur,  Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs.  They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly.  I lowered my face and listened to the tombs,  It seems their lipstick was revolting,  Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation.  They talk about the lies they had to live through,  In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages.  They call out their abusive partners,  Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof,  The blood-stained clo...
Post a Comment
Read more