Caretakers of a messy garden

My best friend, once, listed down
thousand reasons stating why I
should be loved and one of them
read, ‘she will never pick up your
calls, but is a very good listener’
‘Funny’, I told her.

Mom, sometimes plants a kiss
on my forehead, which feels soft
like the sky, a few minutes before
the sun sinks down the horizon.
Maybe even more lighter and
smoother than that. And then she
whispers, ‘Honey, you are beautiful.
I love you’.

My brother seldom reads the things
I write and when he finally does, he
appreciates them with a meagre ‘your poems are just fine’. •

But the way his eyes light up stars
and moons and galaxies all at once
while saying those words, I know he
means it. I know he means every
damn letter of, ‘your poems are just fine’.

And my dad, he stays silent like he
has been for eons. Maybe, he says
something my ears often miss. But,
he does smiles.

So, you telling me that I suck
doesn’t even matter. Because
I have got people who if tomorrow
my roots die a premature death
will never stop watering me.
And for them, I’ll revive.


Conversations at midnight

It’s the same night again, where we are so close to each other that I can hear you breathe and count each of them, like one, two, three, four

It’s the same night again, where I can listen to your hearbeat that’s playing like a soulful symphony in my ears. The kind of music I want to listen the rest of my life.

It’s the same night again, where I am tracing constellations in your eyes so intently that we never realise that morning sun coming up.

It’s the same night again, where we talk about each other. Where you tell me about your first love, the heartbreak, the times when you felt like you can’t take it anymore, the first time you saw your mother cry or the first time you saw me.

It’s the same night again, where I confide you about my vulnerabilities or fears or my obsessions and you don’t wince or turn your face away.

It’s the same night again; you, me and the book that we left unread.

Empty Apologies

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you bombarded me with those hundreds of text messages. I had already buried my phone in the backyard and nobody knows about it.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you wanted to go out with me for some fresh air or maybe, a pizza. I had lost my appetite a long ago and was apparently, choking as if the air was toxic just for me.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you locked yourself in that dark room and refused to venture out. I was myself wandering in the pitch black street and couldn’t find a way back home and to you.

Sorry, I wasn’t there when you slashed your wrist a little. My own scars were new, and they ran deep down even below this superficial skin.

Sorry, I wasn’t there to wipe away your tears. How could I’ve done that when my own hands were smeared in mud?

Sorry I wasn’t there to help you mend your broken pieces. I was searching my own scattered ones. I still am.

(Empty Apologies)

Eighth letter

Dear You,

I am cold since the day you left. Because leaving you was almost like death, the only thing is, I am dying a little everyday. But your thoughts refused to be buried.

I search for you in every stranger down the street, in the face of a man who’s waiting for his lover or the one who couldn’t take eyes off his girlfriend.

I can feel your touch in the wisps of cool breezes or the shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees that kisses my cheeks. It almost like you making love to me everyday without being present.

The truth is you never leave my mind, not even once. You are with me, every hour, every minute, every second of my life and that hurts.



I hope

I hope you realise how beautiful you are. And with beautiful, I don’t mean your looks, but your soul. Your kind, loving, courageous and a selfless soul.

I hope you look beyond your flaws and blemishes. I hope you notice the virtues that you own, the virtues that make you a better human being.

I hope you understand how life is not supposed to be easy. It will give you moments of sheer joy and happiness, but it will also give you the thrills, the tears, the setbacks.

I hope you try to find peace and not just by meditating. Find peace in watching the sunrise and sunset, peace in the innocent smile of a baby, a sight of two people in love or just by sitting at the coffee shop, reading your favourite book.

I hope you calm down and relax. I hope you cut yourself from the shackles of a daily routine and do what you always wanted to.

Go partying at night with your best friends, plan a small trip, go to an unknown destination, meet new people.

I hope you fall in love. Fall in love with yourself, the scars, the vices, the real unfiltered you.

I just hope, you fall in love with your life.

PS: I guess my posts have become a bit repetitive.

Seventh letter

Last night, I was watching ‘The Notebook’. I’ve always loved the movie and never missed a chance to catch up on it. Suddenly, I remembered how you hated it.

Not just one, you disliked all the hardcore romantic movies I used to watch. Still, you always sat down beside me.

I realised how you never tried to make me feel that you are tied down or stuck. Rather you’d smile along with me the whole time. I wonder how many times you’ve ditched your own feelings to not hurt mine.

How many times you gave up your happiness to wipe my tears away? With these thoughts rioting in my mind, my heart ached with sadness. Sadness for you. Sadness for us.

And then, I switched off the movie. Instead, I watched the one you loved. Till the end. I bet at that moment, I saw you smile. Real.