Naye Kaafiley ...

Ek umra daraaz thi ...
Kuch lamhe thei ...
Unnke liye humneapne lamhe kho diye ...
Aaj woh nahi rahe ..
Par mere beetey huye pal ...
Wapas aa gaye....
Wapas mil gaye puraaney dost yaar ...
Phir naye kaafiley shuru ho gaye...
Zindagiphir se muskuraney lagi ....
Naya daur phir wapas aa gaya...
Kuch apne puraaney mil gaye ...
Kuch naye dil hil gaye ...
Sab kuch badal kar bhi wahi hai ...
Buss kuch nahi badlaa toh woh pyaar hai ...
Ek ehsaas ...
Jo kabhi saanson mein thei ..
Woh wapa dil ki dhadkan bann gaye...
Ab naa koi giley ...
Na koi shikwe ....
Buss armaanon ki baarat...
Ek Shehzadi ...
Aur taaron bhari raat.

Jaaney kaise kab mulaqat ho gayi ....
Kab kareeb aaye ...
Aur yeh baat ho gayi.

Oh! By the way ...

Oh! By the way ....
How does my LED TV look in that new flat ....you call home?
Where did you keep it?
 A constant reminder of me ... right?
 And, does he still wear the Rolex watch, he flicked from my home?
And, the clothes .. tees and shirts and belt and trousers and jeans I bought for him ...
Again a constant reminder ...
And the shoes and sandals....
Always reminding him...
Who gave them all to him and his mom...
Does she wear the shoes bought with my money when she goes for a walk ....
Everything he says are his were bought by me ....
How can he FORGET?
ENJOY while you can ...
Or burn them all ...
Ashes ... ruins of a past ....
But, history can never be forgotten ....
Some things remain....
And, a museum is made for them ....
Find that museum ....
Find the TRUTH.
Oh! Forgot ....
Where are the books he took from my home ...
For Self Growth ...
All signs ....
Signs of my presence ....
Don't overlook the signs ....
Better safe than sorry.
For as long he exists ....
I LIVE....
Live in his memories...
Tormenting his soul ...
Be the balm .....
Good Luck!

Obsession...

Gawd! Why can't people get over their obsession ....
I don't care whether you or HE live or die ...
For me HE died the day you appeared live on the web...
Enjoy your life with the dead and decaying ....
Don't get God in between ...
Nor spiritual Gurus ...
They would be turning in "THEIR GRAVES".
Don't be so scared ...
I don't spit and lick it ...
I leave it for the likes of you ....
To relish.

So much insecurity ain't good ....
Go have a life ....
Rather than spy on me at night ...lol

I never look back ...
I just look forward ....
And am looking forward ...
And, you don't feature anywhere in that list.

Stop this obsession with me ...
At times I wonder if you are a lesbian....
Hahaha ....
Worry about others ...
There are plenty ...
Right under your nose...
Look around ...
Observe the subtle signs ....
You will know what I am writing about ....
Better late than never.

Every concubine gets a place to stay....
You chose to call it a home ...
It's not home .....
It's your grave ....
Watch the signs....
Four walls and a roof don't make for a home ....
People do ....
Wholehearted people...
Not people who are there just so that they can save their back....
WATCH THE SIGNS .... OBSERVE.

Stop your OBSESSION with me .....
Move on ...
Make your life.

Gangnam Style ...

Yeah, living life the Gangnam Style ...
PSY is back with my style .....
Love it ...
Peps me up ....
I have started dancing again ....
Gives me a kick ....
That no weed can give ....
Gangnam Style ...
The sexy lady is back ...
With a bang.

Sometimes ...

Sometimes you have to be silent ....
In order to be heard ....
You have not spoken a word ...
Never ... anywhere ...
Others have been vociferous...
Speaking volumes ...
Speaking ill ...
Quoting you ...
But, you never uttered a word ....
Why?

Is your silence ...
Conveying a message to me?
Is your silence ...
The answer I seek?
In your silence does the truth lie?
If you had said it....
We wouldn't have suffered so much?

Is our love and heartbreak...
The two sides of the same coin?

Sometimes I wonder ....
Just as I am wondering now.

Memories ....

They haunt you ...
They taunt you ...
They traumatize you ...
Yet they are memories ...
Some events that happened ...
That left an indelible mark on your mind, heart and soul....
A tattoo that can never be removed ...
A grubby mark that can't be cleaned ...
Tried everything to forget you ....
Can't....
I really can't let go ....

Memories ... my memories with you ...
Are killing me ....
I am dying ...
Dying a slow death ...
A ghostly pall and gloom ...
Looms over my mortal self ....
Blood drained from my being .....
Am dying a slow death ...
Can't live  without you anymore.
The day the blogs stop ....
Know that I am gone ....
Gone forever.

Then only memories will remain ....
Memories that will haunt you.

More on Tea ...

Angad makes tea .....
Just the way Maa used to make it ...
I never taught him ....
But, my morning cuppa is made by him each day ...
Come rain or thundershower ....
He has her qualities ...
Anusuya boils water and adds a tea bag to it and gives me ...
The evening tea is made by her....
She looks like Maa ....
And, has the most beautiful hair like Maa had predicted ...
She is beautiful but tomboyish ...
Angad looks like you and his father ...
But, has feminine sentiments... like Maa....
always trying to bring peace ...
Keeping everyone happy ...
Anusuya is like you ....
But, Angad's anger is a volcano like mine ...
It has to be taken care of ...
I don't know how.
Anusuya is witty like Maa...
And, a stand up comedienne like her ....
There is nothing of me in them...
Thank God!

Ah! The topic was tea....
I like my tea well brewed and served ...
Angad knows that ...
So my morning tea while I blog at 5 am ...
Is made by him voluntarily....
Even on a Sunday.
He serves the tea to me with bananas .....
Or Rusk or cheese toast or french toast....
Then he switches on my favourite TV channel....
And all this while I blog or answer mails ....
Then I get ready and leave the home by 6:30 am ....
He escorts me down and hails a Rickshaw for me...
Then, he goes home to bid Anusuya bye as ....
By then she is ready for her school.

A daily routine except for Sundays.....
Discipline ... fauji discipline....
Everybody loves Angad and Anusuya...
You would be proud of them.

The Art of Tea making ....

She used to make tea so artfully ...
Early in the morning ....
I would sit on the Kitchen slab next to the Gas stove ....
And watch her make tea ....
I was the DIL (Daughter in Law) ....
And she was the MIL (Mother in Law)....
Kya ulta zamana tha ...
But pyar tha ....
She would first boil the water in a vessel ....
With herbs ...
Then pour it into the kettle ...
 And the tea cups ... to keep them warm ...
Then reload the same in the vessel and add the tea leaves and milk ....
Then, after it had boiled over ....
She would pour the concoction ...
Back again into the kettle ...
Let it boil in it once ....
Then the kettle off the Gas stove ...
And covered with a tea cozy .....
On a tray with the sugarfree capsules...
A pot of sugar ..
Lots of Rusk ...
One each for everyone else but lots for me ....
Then, we would take it to the porch or the lawn or sometimes in the lobby ....
And, wait for the patriarch of the family to return ....
Return from his morning walks ...
And, then the whole family had tea together ....
Didn't understand the funda then ....
Now, when I do ....
I don't have time for tea ...
No family gatherings ....
No tea,,,
No breakfast ..
No Lunch ...
No Evening tea,,,
No Dinner ...
Nobody is ever there ...
A hectic life ....
Where there is no one together at any given time ....
A fast paced monotonous city life ...
The Art of Tea Making ....
Lost for now ...
Now it is cutting from roadside tea stalls ...
Or in Restaurants ...
But, that tea ....
And the flavor of real love and labor is lost.

If one has to learn to love a man ....
Learn it from her ...
She loved and worshipped him ...
That was true love....
You don't find it anymore.