To myself...

I could thankfully greet him with a smiling face today. Fight and successfully pretend to be the same person till now.

Only if I could have refrained those tears a little longer..till our meeting came to an end.

But thank goodness today; he could see only parts of myself...

For he saw those tears and missed the struggle behind to keep them from coming.

Watched me smile but failed to fathom the pain suffered to do so.

Gave consolations but didn't realise that they won't work.

And saw that red scar on the left hand fist, while the clawing of the right hand nails onto the victimised fist, to fight back a few tears, went unnoticed.

For he could say.."You are my strength. Not the one to cry and break down. You have to stay strong as always. Its you from where I draw encouragement".

And couldn’t hear me saying.."I have been your strength since the couple of years you have known me. Till then I had been brought up like the girl I am from within. Delicate, sensitive, vulnerable."

Sounds of rain, and music...

It has been a tiring day to no end. And one utterly wronged.

Right since I opened my eyes to another half-sunny-rest-cloudy morning..only to realise he's not in Cal. Well..he'd be here mext morn only..atleast that's what had been his word before he left. Or that's what can give me an immediate consolation. But its true you can't cling to forcibly imposed beliefs for long. And I shuddered to think that a few days from now every morning would be like this one. I'm not crying a bit just because I'm not supposed to. And I seriously hope the next time I meet him, I'd be able to greet him with a smile.

The dizzy morning made me, quite unlike myself, feel reluctant to drive. And I'm again late in waking up. I feel sorry for it everyday. Not only while getting verbally thrashed by mom, but truly from within. Mom doesn't know this and I guess she'll never believe that. Only this morning, I wished to sleep a little longer.

College timings were late today, thanks to a few reluctant professors. For I could atleast watch the drenched roads patiently drying up. The verandah floor was still enveloped with water, maybe about a quarter-to-quarter-inch. Quite an effort towards perfection, but I'm sure I failed again.

And sitting in the verandah I heard the kids having a tough time spelling Thiruvananthapuram correctly. Meanwhile I kept up my endeavour towards finding the slightest hint of the stars concealed by their some big fat brethren by the end of the night.

I wished in the least to go to college today. Grossly speaking, step out of home. And still more, walking all the way to BCL, alone. I guess I had to. That's why baba had been indifferent today. And the auto-rickshaws made the people wait for what seemed like eternity. It has been I think the longest queue till now. It frequently happens these days. I guess they too want their share of fare rise. And by the time I reached the metro station, buckets of rain were at the helm of trickling down.

The maidan metro exit was a tad overcrowded today. I wondered how in the world people can step out of home during monsoon without an umbrella; and then crowd at the station gate to keep from the rain. I squeezed my way reluctantly through some sweating backs and stinking armpits, out into the blinding rain. I got half of my jeans wet..slipped my foot once on the road..and missed my first class. Walked all the way to BCL, alone, quivering in the cold.

I don't know why I wanted to be in the rain. Fever was creeping in..I could understand. But still didn't feel like moving out. I don't know why I picked up the "Let it bleed" CD from the rack. Maybe it was all to hide those bleeding scars which can only be concealed by the rain.

And then in college staircase, I met the other him. The only thing about him that caught my eye was the blue he was wearing. It reminded me of some bluish conversations and fights..requests and remarks. And a blue furry overcoat he wished to buy for his twins. As for this him, I seriously do not care meeting him every single day. But I feel him hovering around me as a nemesis..for all those crimes I did by hurting him. Or a litmus test to prove myself, to myself, while he's away. I felt confident to go through it and show him the results when he comes back after four years.

I hated the attitude of a lot of people today..as I usually everyday do. And again bit the lips to keep quiet. The only soothing element while leaving college was the sound of a distant flute played by a classmate at one corner of the evening-sky-laden-college ground. And I wished I could play the flute too. Only to allure somebody to stay back.

And I came back home in the jolting and scorching interiors of a 5 o’ clock train.

I guess somethings I’d never be able to fathom. For why those somethings happen and how are they scheduled to happen with oneself. Like why I left my cellphone home today..or what was so special about today’s rain..why I had to try to be happy with friends..or why that flute made me cry like never before.

And why I couldn’t gather just anything to tell him tomorrow…and make him smile…and smile myself…and greet him all over again, with a counterfeit smiling face.

My crumbling piano...

Quiet and desolate,
bared..
uncared..
stripped off all its tunes,
it lied in one corner of my room..
Unperturbed.
Unperturbing.
scathed by the memoirs of its bloom.
As the pages battled recklessly
nesting on their bosom
some void, hollow tunes
crowding against each other...
In their tryst with survival.
As the threads of hair raked my brow
in a feat to match the northern wind
and I opened my eyes to the broken glass door..
Remembering my pianist.
The moment I recalled
my walk deep down
trickled from his eyes, onto the mind.
The lashes concealed from me..my piano defied,
And in his music, in his eyes
my music did I find.
I kept swaying with the tune...
strummed by his stroke..
fondled by his fingers..
with the prayer to sway
all the ages to sprout
on the bosom of my piano,
unless we got trickled out.
And I stare through the broken door
this monsoon, uncalled for..
groping through the northern wind...
searching my music once more.
as I watch my piano crumble down
with tunes falling into pieces
strewn over the floor...
and memories blurred by the mist
Tunes and touches
along with me...
Waiting for my pianist.