Sparkle It Around

Before I begin, I would want to tell you that writing or saying this makes me feel very scared. I always had this strange fear that If I write about good things, If I put my happiness in words and make it concrete, then it can be taken away from me, But as a writer of all things sad and dismal, I owe this one to you. So here it goes; I was a person who never cherished life, like the one where everyone is supposed to be grateful when nothing is wrong in their life, Past few months I was lost in a blur. One minute I was flying to a new location to do this or that, one minute I was working like a machine to get rid of all thoughts I create. I walked into the streets, I got failure and breaking points but all of this mattered and didn’t matter in the end too. Life took dramatic twists, and you can call it an unbecoming of all sorts. And this time I let it in, felt it, without fighting back too much. And this has let me write this on a grey winter afternoon at home, under a bare blue sky....

 Its funny how a year passes so easily and how it turns things around. A year ago this day, the sky was washed with cerise of blue and purple. And while going to the work I could smell the bazaars, and you said something at dawn and smirked at ground before leaning dimly at the camera, may be I felt like a breeze rustled through you and you smiled. We smiled. At dusk the color of the sky became a shade of magenta. This could be a movie scene, no but this is my reality a year ago. You see I remember things in detail and if you look in detail I associate everything almost with you. It was almost 22:00 hours. Do you remember things like that ? I could hear sirens wailing inside my heart. Even if love is a war, a war with your own self or the world, your name is the first and last thing, my heart would ever have space for. I always saw, Vivid colors in your bright and lovely eyes, I always found the hues of sunrise and, Sunset in them, Housing a zillions of songs, melodies and...

 मेरे हमजोलिया मेरे बिछड़े हमसफ़र  कुछ ऐसे नाम लेके ये जहाँ मुझे छेड़ते सब यहाँ  किसे करूँ शिकायत ,किसे करू ये बयान  अब में जाऊ कहा  कभी मुस्कुराते हैं कभी सिमट जातें हैं   इस जहाँ की बातों पर और अपने जज़्बातो पर  तुम बस जल्दी आ जाओ  सावन गया ,  पतझड़ भी जाने को है  कुछ यहाँ कुछ वहां  कितने खुशनसीब हैं वो कान जो तेरी खैर रोज सुनते होंगे  कितने खुशनसीब है वो ऑंखें जो तेरा दीदार करती होगी  तेरे नाम लेकर लोग मेरा दिल जलाते हैं मेरा  आखिर कब होगा वो सवेरा जब तू  हाथ  थमेगा मेरा 

 Ali sethi plays on loop in my head and I remember the way you used to smile, everytime before I go to bed. Your humour, your giggles, the bittersweet clandestine memories we had, stir up and play like a movie in my head. I rediscover the scent of flowers that you sent me and remember how you held my hand when the sky was dark , seems like it was few days ago. I remember how I forced you to watch a stupid movie, just because I wanted to watch a movie with you. I had made a to do list of things to do with you, but lately I forgot where I kept it. May be you took it or may be I missed it somewhere. Isnt it funny that someday somewhere someone will pick that list and do the mentioned things and create memories till the time they will come back to a day like this and they would pen it down. I remember how you clicked my picture while I was sleeping with my mouth open and you laughed at me. I remember how you cooked and asked that kadhai would have been there, you would have...

 When the first ray of sunlight after traveling kilometers reaches you on a misty winter morning , a morning when you don't want to wake up from the bed and face the world, when a ray from a far off star reaches to soothe and boost your day, that is the ray of hope and love. Profoundly that is how love feels like . Love is the warmth of the fire, when after a long day you collect some logs and light them up to save yourself from the chilled winter evening, the logs are burned for some warmth may be that warmth is how it feels like love. Like everything I believe it too has seasons . Autumn would be of longing , where everything falls and dies, but it still is beautiful. Summer would be of enjoyment, when you can eat popsicle and go to the riverside to enjoy a picnic or may be lay beside a beach to enjoy the warmth of sun while experiencing the tides of life.  May be love is like the chirping birds in the spring, the blooming ,radiant and colorful flowers that come to life a...

 Make another one of me. Twice. What's you vice, mine is illusion. My halo is broken. May be I was blinded with what saw so closely. But I am not weak. There is a house where I live, it's full of sunlight and I walk barefoot on the grass and you wake up in me on most days . Lovers, I don't see but there is enough ginger in this house, so I start by preparing a tea and drinking it is the most promised reward. Sky drips onto the pavement and June melts into the arms of October and I sit on the grass when I am allowed to sit outside and I write. Or at least I try. Sometimes in a while it rains here, I spend the better half of the day in the grey foreboding. Always the lonely kind. In this house, how trivial are my dreams, how mundane, how beautiful and how tragic is the act of living. Life may be different but death is equal. Being hopeful could be beautiful but hopelessly hopeful is fatal. We travelled enough-Together or alone . We are all travellers in life but if don...

 I know if I call you today after sunset, you won't pick. Silence will grow and I will take a deep breath. Something inside my ribs would break and bleed and I won't have words for it. I just hope before I get short on blood my letters reach you if my voice could not. When in life you feel yourself strangling to death and there is nothing you can do about it, you feel a kind of dizzy. Someone tried calling me today and checking on me and I wanted to pick I wanted to cry out loud but I cried in my head. And I hope it's alright. This is incomplete. Memories of lukewarm love, fugitive stains of broken songs playing loudly on the stereo, stolen kisses, and a drowsy drunk voice saying that I love you bangs in the head. Comforting silence of Monosyllabic replies. Turquoise sky pouring down the torrents of the light, a fuzzy tonic of bittersweet memories. I should have said everything. In the smell of nitroglycerin, hypochlorite, and peroxide I breathe in air and your name i...