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Love through the looking-glass

He looked at her. Hungry.

“You complete me.”

She dabbed some green eye-shadow as he spoke.

Fidgety. Fickle.

“You fulfill me.”

She drew the contours of her left eye with the new kohl-liner.

She looked at him from the reflection in the mirror.

Forlorn.

Formidable.

Friend-less, he seemed.

She hated attachment.

She went on to draw the red lines on her lips, accentuating their thickness.

She stole a glance. He still looked lost.

God! How she hated whiners!

B B King: A Summer Sonata

Tonight, the Gods are in rapt attention.

There’s music, there’s symphony.

There’s that thing called love.

And there’s harmony.

The world is at peace.

So is humanity.

Genius has got its own audience.

image

Lonely at the bar …

It’s three in the afternoon,
He is in the bar, drinking alone.
The table adjacent to his is vacant
The waitress gives him attention, scant.

Today, she has fifteen tables to attend
And keep all – louts and gentlemen alike – away from her end.

She barely glimpses, thrice,
Then looks askance …
Her manager has been ribbing her since
HE walked to the bar, in a trance,
And held her hazel-brown glance
On a Friday afternoon, luck by chance.

Cause it was her weekly off, that Friday was
But Nina, her bestie, was down with the flu of sorts.
And she had asked her to pitch in
Knowing else she would lose her chin
And her weekly pay would be thin.

Now Nina watches, standing in the right corner,
She is a little weak after that wretched fever.

She wants to tell her: don’t forget your boots
For girls like us, men barely give two hoots.
The bill comes, anD they get the frigging drift,
They forget your name tag even before they exit the lift.

Forget the tip, junk the flirtatious “when do you go for a puff?”
Once they are home, they know they are better off.

But she knows it ain’t true
Nina is nursing a heart bled blue.

She knows HE won’t be untrue
And give her the chance to rue,
Over unspoken words and vows not taken
Over lost chances and identities mistaken.

यह रास्ते किस काम के?

Pedestrians, go take a walk!

No, not on the footpath.

This is outside the Supreme Court in the national Capital.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Melancholy & Memories

Tonight he woos melancholia
In all its finery.
There are lines of worry,
There is a silent fury
That rages on inside
And gnaws at his head.

The whiskey is half-done,
The cigarette stubs are golden brown.
Anger and angst are knocking close,
His body and soul scream: helpless.

Tonight she courts memories
And looks for some ease.
In their familiarity
She seeks refuge and solace.
Memories, a crutch, is what she has
To remind her of the one she was.

Some old mails that she now knows by heart
Some love poems that dance in her head
Some names he called as he twirled her tresses
Some trinkets, lots of silver and a few dresses.

It’s a full-moon night outside.
Two pairs of starry eyes,
Stare at the skies.
And in between lies
Two cities and the vast seas.

It’s a night of love and longing,
Somewhere it’s also a night of belonging
Of half-truths, white lies and yearning
Of tempting Fate and worshipping the Circle of Life.

Somewhere, out there…
Two lovers wonder
If they shall ever again
Meet and not come undone.

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