Fernweh
I stumbled upon an old song
That once never left my mouth and mind
It masterfully engaged me again
Just like old times
Cathartic, I may call it
The fluctuating frequencies
As I listen to Love is a Laserquest by Arctic Monkeys, I wonder
How did I ever stop listening?
At the same time-
I stumbled upon a visual
Of you who I deeply loved and who loved me too
I entertain the absolute reticent idea
That maybe I still want you
I search my brain for a reminder
Of what brought about our end
It’s been years since I indulged in your idea, I think
Why did I ever stop loving?
the dawn line
between your lips
wakes the wistful soul
that escapes days
to dwell
in the nighttime.
School summers and ferry escapades
Candy floss and piggy back rides
Maybe the music in me
Comes from our several ferry voyages, daddu
Where our laughs danced in tandem with the waves
And my body learned rhythmic movement
Across both axes in the water
In tandem with the movement of the vessel
Cutting through the waves
Forward motion always
Learning about life
Seeing exotic places
The vessel became my school
Each time I see
Your eyes peering back at me
Now only through photos
I realize
It was never about the movement
Of a giant vessel encapsulating us
But how you moved me, Daddu
Strange
When journeys become the destinations
Strange
When people become vessels
I am a homebody
Constructing excuses
to sit things out
or return sooner
from places and people
that are actually nice
I’m quicksand on my own
Gulping, immersing
disappearing, resurfacing.
Asking why is futile
Have I ever gravitated
as per my will?
I went around the world
fluttering alone
unrecognizable
But who can see that?
For I beeline
back to my epicenter
See, I like to sleep
with the flickering
of the familiar bulb
in my room, over my head
each night
dreaming of the outside
What is it like,
To feel the air
Brush your knees
Without a salwar obstructing it?Deepa asked a boy
School field visits were
Shorts clad boys somersaulting
Huddled among
High-rising Sugarcane offshoots
Giggling girls in groups
Discipling falling dupattas
And peeking, blossoming cleavages
Deepa dreamt of a lifestyle
Devoid of undemonstrated demarcations
Feeling sandy all over
With millions of smiles
Without millions of cares
Just then- push, thud, ouch
She fell to the ground
With bleeding, bruised
knees
She laid around
Even the torn fabric of her salwar
Not salvaging her dignity anymore
Held on for dear life
Deepa felt the air brush her knee
Tasting mud so fresh in her mouth
Prayer like epiphanic realizations
Carved her into the stance of a dog
And she leapt
With the freeing of her arms and legs
At the threshold of the somersault
She exhaled, her breath beckoned
Liberation at last
Farmers were happy each year
That year,
The harvest was happy.