Last mile

Standing there, right there, in front of me,
In front of me, in that crowded hall, that’s when I first saw you.

Oblivious to my presence, you kept mumbling,
Mumbling a song, and tunes, when you’d forget the words and added  new.

You tried to look sharp, oh but I could see,
I could see how you fought the sweat, and the nervousness, yet looked pretty, oh! What a view!

Two summers, two winters, and in between twice of each seasons have passed,
Twice of each seasons have passed, over 700 days have gone by, but how did we happen? I’ve got no clue.

It is not a story written in the heavens but on this very Earth,
On this very Earth, where the platter of our being is garnished by thorns, we less knew.

I am sure, oh yes I am sure, I tell you my pretty soul, there’s more,
There’s more, to this story, more to us, more left in us to fight for the stories we drew.

One last lap, left to run together, hold my hands,
Hold my hands, let’s walk that last mile, ’cause the ones up above know, I love you too.



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A Thousand Stars – Part I

He is standing on top of his 16-floor tall office, with a cigarette between the index and middle finger of his heavily jeweled-with-different-stones left palm, already nearing its filter now. A thousand stars, a hundred thoughts, a chilly night and just a half step for the penultimate ending of the story. He takes the last drag and stashes the bud, among the pile of other buds on the floor. He looks up in the sky. But that is not where the thousand stars lie. The zooming cars with their headlights set on high beam below, the street lamps, and the neon signs of Deloitte, Yahoo, Microsoft and other giants around, are the stars that are visible now. As he looks up, and inhales the smoke in a long deep drag, and feels the familiar sense of satisfaction and relaxation spread through his body, followed by the unpleasant sensation of burning in his throat and lungs, he mentally reminded himself to cut down. But now was not the time to think about himself, there were far more important things to deal with right now; and the tobacco converted into smoke vanishes into the cold air with fog.

Things had taken such great turns in life, that he forgot what the stars in the sky looked like anymore.

“Is it over now? Is this it?”

He asks himself. He no longer remembers what the fight was for. He no longer remembers what brought him here. In this moment, in these times. He knows he must run for it, but the question is,

“Run for what? What is the final destination? When am I supposed to stop running? When does it end?”

He looks at his palm. Shaking today, not the firm and stable palm he had just yesterday in the meeting room. He can’t understand why is it shaking, even when the telecom giant, InterNetworks had won the deal. Another feather in the hat. Last three-quarters had seen an exponential growth in the value of his company. A company today, a young start-up yesterday. Maybe it is the cold winter air and the only-good-for-looks business suit that can’t keep him warm.

10 years. It has been 10 years since he started out with his life like a Phoenix. Burnt to ashes and rose to heights. For 10 years the only thought he lived with was to reach a point where the world knew who he was. Of course, in that everyone was hidden just that one whom he wanted to win back.

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On and On

She went on & on about her troubles.
He kept looking into her eyes, listening to her melody, solving his own troubles…

Swollen nose, eyes red, voice furious,
While he listened to it all. How is she so beautiful, he was curious….

She went on and on about some jerk,
He wrote stories of her, about her, with her. About how things would work…

When I’ll be gone…

Don’t try to wake me up, when I am gone.
Don’t try to shake me up, on the last of my dawn.

I would have passed through the tunnel of light,
Don’t call me back, beating my chest with your might.

I was here for a reason & don’t know if I succeeded,
But I tried. Tried my best. Put in everything it needed.

On the last dusk of my era, just be around,
Don’t hide away in tears. I would need your aura to surround.

I might not have earned a name. Nor might have any fame.
But one thing I did best was to love you. It was true. Not a game.

In those last 60 minutes, tell me who I was, what I meant,
Speak of our good times. The shooting stars, the camps and the tent.

When my final hour arrives, kiss me for it would be the last one,
But don’t say goodbye. I will be gone to another realm. To do the undone.

On my final seconds, now, I might look scared and in pain,
It is the fear of the unknown and grief. Pray not in disdain.

As I depart now, I am old now. I am cold now. Carry me to my grave in our lawn.
Don’t put a tombstone. Setup a milestone that reads In Love Forever. Even when he is gone…

The Scar’s Still Deep.

He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. It was a dream, but as vivid as life. It had been days since he saw her, rather years now already, in life. But today, he finally had a glimpse, even if it was a dream. Yes, a dream this vivid, as vivid as life.

Minutes had gone by. He now started recovering, into the reality. The dream had come to an end. He, now, felt the chills of the northern air. Chills that could freeze. The blood felt like being called back upon by his heart, as he sat still like a ghoul. And now, there were no winter air chills. These were the chills that could freeze a soul.

This girl, this petite girl, who could do no harm, or so he thought, had entered his life, half a decade back. She plucked his heart out, and threw some life into it. Made him a man, who could now laugh, breathe, smile and enjoy small pleasures of life. And he allowed this sin. He let her pluck his heart, and carve it with her own knife.

Sin! Sin! Sin! Is what living beings around were yelling into his ear. But he couldn’t care less, for his heart, mind, soul was already handed over to this petite brunette. She showed him perspective. She showed him songs. She showed him breath, what it felt like living. He always feared life, but now with her, he feared death.

Everything seemed just perfect. On the last day of his life, half hour before he died, she cried, ”I love you! And I fear, I can’t live without you!”. He returned the words with a ‘too”. But the devil had different plans. Satan started dancing at the last half hour. He did not know, that would be the last night with her, and future had no chance.

Half of half a decade later, today, he sees her still. But not in life, for he is dead already, yet he still dreams. He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. He finally had a glimpse of her. Her mother calling from the balcony. It was her, it was her, it was her without a doubt.

She was with him, as her mother watched up from their house, who knew, he loved her daughter, heads over heels. They had endless talks, right through the nights, right through the days. It felt like theirs was a story, that was about two inseparables. They celebrated even the month anniversaries, each month, in their own ways.

That was the dream he had that night. He dreamt of her. Her eyes, her sweet lips, her hair, her smile, everything from a fairy tale. He remembered every feature clearly, the mole beneath her lips, the long nails painted always. He even remembered how she weighed. In his dreams, it was their spring days.

Time. Though time is a player, who keeps his cards close. Never reveals. Has never disclose, as to what is kept in his deck. That bastard. Oh Time! That bastard! Showed them days, euphoric. Made him feel that she is now all his. All of her was all of his. Made them feel like question of tying knots was now only rhetoric.

Everything came smashing down. She went away. He was left behind. For months to come, he kept writing letters and odes to her deaf ears. The ship had sailed, said she, without bidding goodbyes. Hell. He would have never accepted a goodbye. So she moved on as he held on. She went away, but he would stay.

Half of half a decade has gone by, and yet he holds on to her, her spirit. A dream makes him smile, a dream makes him cry, a dream is all he got to live now. He has been dead long time past. Only these dreams act as a window to his life, to his past. He walks alone between the fringes of time, one moment present, most moments in past.