Skip to main content

Choices

There was a time when I'd do anything for you,
When I'd trade my sleep, just so you slept without jostles,
When I'd say anything I could, just to make you smile,
When all my air had, were beautiful castles,

That was the time when a single smile from you,
Was enough to brighten my darkened day,
When just to see the light of your face once,
My whole life's aspirations at stake I'd lay,

Then I felt the change, the cold, don't know if you felt it too,
A pull from somewhere a little far, from somewhere between me and you,
I went on to hold new hands and make new dreams,
Held on, as some old ones came at the seams,

But through all of the new as I walked here and there,
I kept one thing in my mind throughout,
No matter where the pulls of growing up took me,
I'd keep you within my sight, without doubt,

But for a second when once I looked away,
To dream dreams of happiness, of freedom, of beauty,
In that second some pull made you disappear,
Was it a choice, or a call of duty?

I look for you here and there, I look for you now and then,
Even as I keep peeking at beautiful futures I and we could be having,
While walking without you in my sight seems inevitable but true,
How do I say it, well, I'll always pine for you?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Internship: The beginning

So I've noticed, and I'm sure you have too, how my blog has no real (or maybe way too little) information about me. It's all mostly a collection of vague poems, deep emotions and disturbing recollections. The reason for the exclusion of my life adventures from this blog is not insane paranoia about my private life, but the general lack of happening events that my life presents. Now that I'm on an intern in Canada for the summers, I thought I'd make this blog a little more personal, and let all you (if there are any) people get a glance at what I hope will be a happening and tale-worthy part of my life. Leaving any space is always quite hard. However, this last semester was like an iron club in pendulum motion, and every time I stood up, it hit me back down, periodically. Bashed and beaten by this semester, the approaching date of departure for my intern happened to be a date I wished upon myself faster, and hence as life is generally known to do, came crawling sl...

What do you wish to be?

They asked me a million times, the same thing over and over. "Who do you want to be when you grow up?", they said. Somehow this question has been a constant safe resort for all the distant or close uncles and aunts I (and most of you, I'm sure) have had. They always are interested in our future plans, though often forgetting our answers within the next blink of an eye. Somehow it has collectively become a part and parcel of the Indian (and now worldwide, it seems) psyche, that a person is worthy of notice only if he's working towards some end, passionately. Another thing is, this question that I fully dissected by gauging the motives behind, the tone of and the way of asking, has evolved into something that needs a 'materialistic' answer. I mean, there's this famous saying wherein a kid said "I wanna be happy" when asked this question, and was thought to be simple and innocent by the adults who most probably returned with the same question a few...

Faraway

Safe in the knowledge, or so it seemed, That things lasted, she happily dreamed, Of the day he'd come back, the day he'd call, Of the day he'd embrace her, and call her his doll, Every birthday of his, she'd make a card, Plaster it on his wall, pristine white paint scarred, Every anniversary of theirs, she'd decorate the house, In the hopes it brought back her long lost spouse. Little did she know, in a village, in a faraway land, Was a prisoner of war, with no right hand, Learning to write with his left, an alphabet a night, For the days brought torture, and his never ending fight, Every birthday of hers, a tree he secretly planted, In the hope that some clean air to her he granted, Every anniversary of theirs, a word more he wrote, In the hope that one day, she'd read all he spoke.