Has it been that long?

(This is my first attempt at ‘prosetry’. Well, I started to write a poem and it ended up looking like something in between)


Remember when I was almost run over, as you scampered away

afraid to know, afraid to face?

perhaps loath to look into my eyes,

afraid they might not mirror the transparent love brimming in yours

your brain—left though it is—must’ve been teeming with a zillion impulses;

yet you dug deep and plucked out an eloquent “I like you.”


But hey! Who am I to judge your acuity?

A face like pebble and a pace like snail was all I had to offer

speechless and emotionless—giving the pole I brushed past a tough fight

No wonder the cabbie misjudged the turn

If it were not for the rogue thread in my silk scarf, caught nastily in the metal mesh,

my inertia would’ve continued to cause some interesting road incidents.

Remember? The green D’day scarf?

Ohhh! Who am I talking colors with!


I think you were still walking your crazy sprint-walk

perhaps warming up for a run in case you got slapped

What if this is a prank? I thought of all your capers I shamelessly fell for

What if his friends are hiding in, ready on cue to point fingers and laugh in unison?


You looked prepared for a slap—stoic, with a pose slightly biased to the dominant right cheek

If it were indeed a prank, you had the makings of a Broadway star


I wasn’t too psyched to embark on a ride this time

So, I asked “Are you kidding with me?”, betraying all my naiveté mid-question

“No, not at all.” Phew! Not a slap so far!

“Then, are you serious?” I was the champ at asking insightful questions 

“Yeah.Yes. Of course.” You were always the glib one


Okay, this is a proposal, no doubt now. 

I have to respond, but I don’t know how

A mere “yes”?—too pedestrian

“I love you too”?—dripping with desperation

“Why did it take you so long?”—too histrionic


“Same here,” I blurted, disrupting the soliloquy

You paused a teensy bit; I bit my lip

Did my clumsy reply make him second guess? 

And then I saw—a face never quite resplendent

as if my words flushed your pallor a bright cherry red

I could’ve kissed you right then!


As I sit down today, to reminisce those moments of childlike joy, of nascent love,

all I can say is that our decade-long (and counting) tryst has had its share of tranquil drizzles, of raging tempests, and of purely transcendent Mumbai rains.


I am glad it really has been that long.


An ode to Sunday

Why should I do it?

Can’t it just wait?

A moment of unbridled peace

while I take a break

I want to pause; I want to ponder

Is it such a crime?

Why does the whole world frown

like I am idling on its dime?

I want to pace my morning; soak in the sunshine

wondering if the chirpy birds ever get to whine

I want to savor my coffee, take in every steamy waft;

listen to music daylong, caressing me like a pillow soft

I want to sit by the window dreamily staring at a random place,

imagining I’m in a movie with the camera on my face

I want to take a lazy stroll, crumbling dry leaves along

with an utterly empty mind; mindless of the right from wrong.

I know this isn’t too much to ask,

but it won’t be long before I’m given another task

I know I have to wake up and toil the very next day

which is why I write this for you, my lovely Sunday!


A slithering raven wave perched upon the eye,

ensconcing it in a spiral of sooty magnificence;

waltzing along its contours, set to her swing:


A flimsy line sketched daintily with a twirl in the tail

for the days bubbling with nostalgic childlike innocence,

a bold streak darting alike an endless winding road

on buzzing, frenzied days that could spill into the next,

a smoked, sensuous stroke doused with shimmer

for an impetuous night of pyrotechnic passion,

a sodden smudge resembling a gravely turgid rivulet

for a few moments of pure, unshackled vulnerability,

and, the remnants of a disheveled scribble of a tot

meant for languid sundays spent cuddling up to a book.


The kohl exudes no charm when bereft of an eye to enliven;

fated to be mercilessly outshone by its scarlet cousin;

yet serves as a loyal aide, seamlessly blending in