When those ever twinkling eyes
become a brimming bag of salt water,
you feel your heart getting heavier
filled with something
that hasnt yet been christened.
When a pearl falls,
white curtains are drawn
restricting all your sensibilities.
A wave drives you to her
and that is all you know.

You grew up with her
pulling her hair,
spoling her drawings,
misplacing her specs;
annoying her to the extent of crying
not just once.
And now,
watching that stream of sea water
finding its way
through her round cheeks
is unbearable.
Childhood is nowhere
but in the golden frame of memories.
A grown up girl she is called now
courted by many
with roses and songs
and her tears say
even dejected by a few:
things that you refrain from discussing
and even denying
any knowledge of.

You know your stupid jokes
might bring a grin
but the dampness of the face
and the heart
will remain.

Being the elder one, you think
sensibility of a higher degree
comes naturally.
Neither will you ever realize
nor will she declare
that despite all the adversities
the greatest gift
the Almighty showered upon her,
she thinks,
is sending her as the little sister
to a brother like you
who grows restless
when her smile ceases to show up.
She runs and falls
but runs again
because the first aid box
for her scratched knees
will always be there
with you, she knows.

The sun rays travelled
from the window to her face
but nothing moved her closed eyes
or her body
not even his shudderings.
She wasnt answerable to him now
because her citizenship was granted
by the world of senselessness
Her loss, was less; his fame, was more
a matter of concern.
Auden's 'Unknown Citizen' was he.
Not a begetter of stories
till yesterday.
From today
the neighbours, the kinsmen and others
will be the news channels
contesting to be the first one
to report
and investigate the mystery underneath.
The flowchart functioning in his brain
was this.

Husain died in exile
and so did she
Though at her home, away from his heart.
The 'Happily Married' tag
expired within months of its issue
yet they carried it along
well aware of its inautheticity,
as a substitution
would have invited tales
and decreased the status quotient.
Watching from somewhere, up there
she was reflecting
on everything she had left behind
and thinking
only if, to him
the world that bothers
was not beyond her now closed eyes,
the 'Happily Married' tag
would have passed all the quality checks
and they would also have
'lived happily ever after'.

No, we are not together
and nor will ever be.
Yes, we have parted ways
and embraced the left bits of life.
But somehow I know
sitting drunk with a college mate
in a lonely bar
you mentioned my name
and swinged back
in antiquity.
Addressing a female colleague at work
my name reached your mouth
but you swallowed it back
realizing the sin
you were about to commit.
Holding your spouse's hand
at the windy beach
her face looked like mine to you
in the uncooked light
of the twilight
but the adjacent second
brought with it the truth.
A cut-paste option
is not life.
Its a cloth dipped in ink
leaving impressions
all over the silk route.
'Lovers' is not the word for us
but 'strangers' we can never be...