Happiness was…

My happiness was in the folds of a shirt,

Which you stacked neatly in my cupboard mess.

My happiness was in a Bisleri bottle,

Which you juggled carefully among the other things crowding your arms.

My happiness was in a dusty notebook,

In which you scribbled my name and yours.

My happiness was in the brown of your eyes.

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I am Not Anybody’s.

I am not anybody’s,

Nobody’s mine.

I don’t own a thing,

I can’t think of anything I can call mine.

Except for my poverty,

And an old pair of specs,

I owe everything to the riddle above.

Sometimes I do forget,

And allow myself a longing desire

To cherish the beautiful,

To love what I love and admire.

But I’m always reminded of this blessing or a curse

That I cannot be anybody’s,

Nothing or Nobody can be mine.

Pick one

I no longer remember

How to function without you,

How to choose between noodles and rice,

Between cereals and a bowl of oatmeal,

Between walking and gliding,

In a crowd

And Solitary.

Funny, I’ve been given choices

But never the privilege to choose!

Ever thine…

Let me cry tonight.

Let me cry in the certainty

Of burning my fingers again

Of loving and losing again

Of hopes of a forever getting trampled on again

Of feeling like one among the hoi polloi

Again.

Let me cry tonight.

Let me cry to feel tired again

So I can sleep before the break of dawn

So it leaves a salty after taste when I kiss your shoulders tonight.

So you see how cringeworthy I can get at times

So you know how much I love you

Can you forgive me, again?


Ek Ijaazat de do bas,

Jab isko dafnaungi,

Main bhi wahi so jaungi,

Main bhi wahi so jaungi.

— Gulzar

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