Cadence

Let us soar on this cadence dearest
Whilst my sweet nothings
Send you to a rapture

Let us weave gossamer dreams dearest
Whilst silk of my hair
Tickles your face

Let your rough stubble prick me dearest
Whilst my soft skin
Gifts you this world

Let this sweet embrace melt me dearest
Whilst cry of my soul
Is heard by your heart

Let promise of life fulfill dearest
Whilst you throb within me
My eyes close at last

---

There is an update at Humor Doesn't Hurt

Footprints

I slowly wipe away your footprints
From the empty board of my life
Hope they don’t run deep
For I have no remedy for the scars
These wounds may leave behind

How can I erase all that?
I ask myself again and again
Those kisses, those smiles
Those words of love and hope
Those moments of bliss
When we lay in each other’s arms
And lived for a moment at least
As one body and soul

Can I request you something
In the name of the moments we lived?
Could you not forget all that please
When you finally redeem your honor?
Could you not beat my lover with guilt
And insult my love for him?

Those moments we shared were beautiful
As true as truth can be
Could you not tarnish those memories
With weaknesses of this world?

At some point of time in the future
When you are alone and lost
Could you be brave and face them
And live them again without fear?

And while you decide to give in
And bind yourselves to the shackles
Could you reserve a corner in your life
And let my moments be free?

---

This is for her, now that she is finally dead!

---

Been Tagged ..and Capitulated

Atul tagged me, and for once I capitulated. I have ditched tags too many times before (shame!). But, this one got me interested as I have been thinking about this for some time, though in a different context.

To give you a background, before I go to do the tag: The other day, in a women's group that I am a member of, someone posted a link to a study which stated that every woman - even the most dedicated ones - have at least one man besides her partner who turns her on! Soon, there was a heavy discussion on this, with everybody declaring their heartthrobs ranging from Amitabh to Sachin Tendulkar to some guy who sits in the next cubicle. This got me thinking about my ideal man.

But, I for one, found that it was not a particular person I was interested in. For me, it was the qualities that mattered. In fact, I don't even hope to find a person who has all these qualities rolled into one (I actually hope that I don't find him!). But, I am lucky that I do see the qualities fleetingly in many wonderful men I know and love - friends, brothers, husband, mentors, co-workers.

That said, now on to the tag:

The rules:

The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
Need to mention the sex of the target.
Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.
If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.


The Perfect Lover: Target - Male

• Older and wiser. ( This is hard because I aint telling my age! But anyone who was in existence for anything between 0-10 years before me, can send me their Resume!)
  
  
• Great sense of humor (Absolutely essential! Wonder why God stopped putting that into men of my generation. Well almost!)
  
  
• Balanced - especially, emotionally. (This because I am decidedly imbalanced!)
  
  
• Understands me more than I understand myself (I am the kind who is stubborn but lovable ;)! So, need someone who can bring out the best in me.)
  
  
• Creative (Oh yeah!)
  
  
• Purposeful and focused. (I definately need that -- sense of purpose!)
  
  
• Truthful (To himself, and more so to me. It takes great courage to stand by the truth.)
  
  
  
• Knows how to deal with PMS (Or willing to learn!)
  
  

Hey, there are many more, but since I was asked only 8, you get only 8.

So, now to my victims:

Gautam - Newest of my readers hence the best possible victim!

Sherriff - Let's see what you got sherriff!

KaunQuest - Here's for you Mr Gazaller (gazal writer)!

Ardra - Step up girl!

Kay - Only because I don't see you too often.

Radhika - Let's hear some dil ki baaten.

Poonam - What made you think you would escape ;)?

Premjit - I can almost see the mustache twitch!


Pheww!! Done!

Vacant

So this is how it is
Pure, raw, primal pain
Absolute darkness
Bottom of the abyss

Pretension of pain
The mindless fear
Was so much better
Than the pain itself
For there is much
Comfort in lies

Where to from here?
Where from am I?
Many questions
Ancient bones
Littered around
Gaping white
Still hopeful
For silly answers

I tread carefully
In the dark truth
My feet bleed
As it's pointed nails
Scrape against
The last hope

Now there's nothing
No shame, no dream
No shackle, no respite
No tears, no fears
But, how I wish
There was no life

A Beautiful Mind

I entered the gym yesterday and suddenly found myself surrounded by a screeching, screaming, grunting, sweating mass of humanity. On the first few days in the new year, the gym is usually full, thanks to the freshly-minted resolutions. However, it gets emptier with passing months as the resolves ebb, a relief for us serious gym-goers. But in these early days of the year, we have up put up with jiggly, clumsy amateurs monopolizing and, often, misusing our favorite machines.

Yesterday, however, I was lucky. I found the step climber I was looking for unused, and promptly climbed on it. This machine is higher than the others, and once you are on it, you get a chance to watch the entire gym from a vantage point. This is a perfect opportunity to observe people quietly, without seeming insane or meddlesome.

So, from my gallery of sorts, I watched curiously as a bunch of teenagers huddled around the chest press machine, each trying to attract the attention of a group of girls by grunting loudly and lifting a measly weight with great effort. The girls, on the other hand, were acting pricey and pretended to ignore the boys and at the same time kept watching them from the corner of their kohl lined eyes.

In the exercise studio, the kickboxing class was full. In fact, it had taken on the look of a pademonium, as a mass of some fifty people gyrated to the blaring music with total disregard to both the beats and to the screaming instructor. They were kicking and punching in the air, furiously, almost hitting each other along the way.

A couple of girls walked into the gym, wearing tiniest of exercise bras, their slacks hanging dangerously low at their hip bones, their faces painted with layers of makeup. They walked self consciously, swinging their hips from side to side, their eyes roving and scanning the gym, their tummies pulled in and their breasts thrusted forward. A few of the guys watched them with interest as the lions watch their prey and prepared to make the move.

In one corner, on the beginners machines, a multitude of baby boomers battled the bulges on their hips and their thighs, their stomach and their arms and inside the weight room, enormous, muscular, tattooed men ruthlessly attacked the dumbells and bars, lifting weight more than the combined weight of me and the machine I was on.

As I scanned the room, I noticed that if there was one place for universal integration, it was this - Chinese, Japanese, Mexican, American, Indian, Middle Eastern, European, African, black, white, yellow, brown, big, small, old, young, beautiful, ugly, graceful, clumsy - they were all right there, moving, throbbing at my feet. Isn't it interesting to see contradictions co-exist so seamlessly?

I continued moving my eyes slowly, curiously, watching, observing people who were absorbed in their own worlds - each an island in himself.

That's when I spotted him, running at the treadmill and I held my breath. He was the most beautiful man I have ever seen - an ebony God, a poetry in motion, the archetypal Adam, the essence of raw, primal masculinity. His high forehead glistened with sweat, his head was thrown back and his back was taut and upright. His eyes were half closed and his soft mouth was pursed in a firm resolve. He looked like the lord of his own world with every single muscle of his body at his command.

The muscles on his body were etched out perfectly, but with a sleek, smooth compactness. Unlike the body builders, his muscles were long and supple. There was nothing bulky, clumsy or out of shape about him. The body hugging suit he was wearing enhanced the narrowness of his waist, the tautness of his hips. His well built arms and shoulders made a statement through his half sleeves. His strong legs negotiated with the machine as he took long, sturdy strides. His smooth, dark skin shone with the blood pounding through his veins and the sweat streaming through his pores. His body looked like it was in complete symphony with the motion.

I watched him unabashedly with kind of a lustless appreciation with which one watches a Van Gogh, with which one listens to Bach, with a sense of awe about the artist and humility about oneself. The sight of my ebony God had left me breathless.

Then, too soon, he was done. I kept watching him as he slowed down and come to a halt. Still engrossed in his thoughts, he took a towel and strode wiping his sweat to the mens room. Shamelessly, I watched him walk and once more, appreciated his graceful gait as he disappeared in the changing room.

Even after he was gone, he lingered in my mind. I imagined him to be a warrior, a knight, a king, a corporate leader, a kind, compassionate, matured lover.

Yes, he definitely must be a leader, I thought , not an aggressive one though.

He must be leading by pure mert, by assurance, by purpose.

He must be intelligent, warm. He must be having a great sense of humor and yet he must be humble. He must be the ideal man nature could have created.

I wondered how his woman was.

Was she an essence of femininity, herself? Was he and his woman the new age Adam and Eve, ready to reinvent this world?

I was done with my workout and went into the ladies room but kept thinking about him . After I showered and changed, I came outside and waited in the lobby. I saw him come out of the mens room. He was looking dapper in his crisp white shirt and black trousers. He was freshly shaven and his tousled hair were now neatly groomed. I watched him again as he paced up and down the lobby, waiting for someone.

Is he waiting for her? I wondered and my curiosity was piqued.

In a while she came out - his woman - and she was just as I had imagined her to be. She was slim, strong, yet delicate with luscious brown hair and smooth, walnut-brown, glowing skin.

There's my eve, I thought as I watched her glide by gracefully in a sleek, flowing black dress, to where he was standing.

What a perfect couple, I mused as I watched them come closer to each other.

She went to him as his back was towards her and gently touched his shoulder. Suddenly, he whirled around and glowered at her.

"You bitch!" he screamed, "f@#$, you made me wait here for f@#$ing ten minutes"

"I am sorry, Adam" She said.

"Shuttap you!" He screamed "I am getting f@#$4ng late."

"There was a.." She tried to explain.

"SHUDDAP YOU SHUDDAP YOU MOTHER#@$@..YOU BITCH YOU..." He screamed like madman and she began screaming back at him, in protest, using the choicest of expletives.

The entire gym watched the drama with fascination.

I was disgusted. I got up, and walked out, unable to watch the perfect picture of my ebony God and walnut-brown Goddess shatter, wishing fervently, that if this were to ever happen again, I would rather see a beautiful mind than a beautiful body!

And Then...

Today, I saw you like I have seen you never before. I lay with my head on your lap, just as I have done so many times before. But you were torn by a heart wrenching agony. Standing on the side was me - stoic, knowing, watching with awe and a certain detachment, the drama that was unfolding. Suddenly, inexplicably, in a matter of a few minutes, hours, days, for you I had split in two, but, for me, I was as whole as I had never been before.

Your pain was palpable, so touching, but I just could not understand the cause.

This is a natural progression, I thought, this is what was meant to be! Sometimes it's just time to go, like sometimes it is time to be.

But I could not turn away. I could not leave you like this. The bond that was between us - that sacred, fragile, unspoken vow - could not be negated just like that. So, I hovered around, concerned, hoping that soon I will see the sunshine through the thick fog that surrounded you.

I did not mean to measure who loved me and how much. But still found myself watching as the world around me crumbled.

There were those spectators. For whom this drama was an interesting event. They clucked a little, slapped your back with a little sympathy and went home to their warm homes and nagging wives.

There were those others who craved for my body. They were the next to go. For the world is full of bodies, and there are always more to crave.

Then, there were some who loved my words. They did not care. For I had left a legacy for them to caress. To them I existed as a set of black letters and a bouquet of feelings that I chose to tie for them. They were happy, mostly, maybe just a little sad, that no new bouquets would be thrown their way. But then, there are many craftsmen of words in the world and no one needs to stop for a corner shop girl.

Then, there were those who loved me for they must - relations of blood, relations of relations. Some of them regretted and even cried a little. Then they held themselves up resolutely and, thankfully, got engrossed in the life that throbbed in their homes. Some pensive evening they shared amongst themselves my toddler memories, my craving for spice, my dreams, my growing up and my going away - one time too many.

Also in the crowd, standing at the back, there were those who owned a piece of me - a hand of friendship, a look of love, a little affection, some benediction, a favor or two and also a sweet, coffee flavored memory. For them the world would always be emptier. But they treasured the little part of me they owned, like an ageless bud that could be caressed and smelled, any time and as they wished.

Then there were you - the one who loved me the most. You were like a leaf caught in windstorm - mad, angry, agonized, drifting. And, I drifted along with you like the mist in your eyes, like the air that you breathed. I watched you as you sat sifting through time, for that one right thing that you could have done. I watched you sitting alone in the dark house waiting for a little glimmer of sunshine that you could hold. I also touched your cheek with my empty fingers as you looked far away with ghastly, vacant eyes.

Who knows for how long we just drifted like this - one a little forward, one a little behind. Then one day, the day did dawn for you, for even the pain could not last longer than I did. Someone came along struggling in the flow, just like you, and held your trembling hand with gentle firmness. Together you found the strength and were ready somehow to swim to the land that belonged to you two.

I saw you ensconced in a new chapter in your life and smiled with relief and even a little emptiness. For a moment I looked fondly at that wise, contented look on your face - the one that comes from knowing too much. The next moment, I turned around and let go. And then I was flying, with a set of sparkling wings, to where I now belonged.

Did not know I still had it in me: The fire, the passion, the resilience, the wildness. Guess, it's there and guess, it will never die.

I hereby declare that I AM... and I WILL DREAM!

Beat that, If you can! Or, just join me...

Eyes

My dreams snap like twigs
Under your terrible, tender foot
My nest lies in shambles
As you poke through it's remains
My world changes it's face
As you stir it around me

I have never complained
And I never will
For we are both entwined
In this strange eternal game
You my savior, you perpetrator
Me your millstone, me your muse

This eternal dance
Of love and of hate
Our faces painted differently
Every time the show begins
But the eyes remain the same
A pair amused, a pair haunted