Ek aisa rishta

Is rishte ka rishta hona 

Bas tere masoom aitbaar 

Aur bina shikvon ke  

Intezaar ke badaulaat hai. 

Hum to bezaar the,

Kabhi berukhi to

Kabhi bewafai ki.

Jab mila to saut ki 

Zulfon ki itr ki khosboo 

Apne jism mein bhar kar mila. 

Aur Jab bichhda to 

Zald lautne ka jhootha

Waada bhi nahin kiya.

Purane shehar ki,

Ghumavdaar galiyon si

Tumhari baahon se  

Baar baar guzra.

Tumhari saason ko 

Hukke ke dhuyen ke saath,

Apne seene mein sameta,

Aur tumhari aansuon ka bhar

Kar jaam, ghoont ghoont gale 

Se utaara. 

Pardon ki tarah,

Tumhara ghoonghat uthaya to

Kucch jhurriyon ko aur gehra paya.

Labon ko sukha,

Aur hatheliyon ko sakht. 

Tumhara libaas utaara,

To waqt ke beraham 

Haathon ke nishaan paye.

Kucch nishaan mere bhi the,

Jinhe tumne sambhale the ab tak. 

Har baar lekin tumhari 

Aankhon me chamak,

Aur pyaar wohi tha. 

Milne par wo apnapan, 

Aur khushi ka izhaar bhi wahi. 

Jo majboor karta hai,

Ke baar baar laut ta hun,

Is shehar main. 

Par main ye jaanta Hun

Ke is rishte ka rishta hona 

Bas tere masoom aitbaar 

Aur bina shikvon ke  

Intezaar ke badaulaat hai. 

On my third visit to Udaipur. 

Sweat

Mohan had been working all day and night for the launch of the new product from his new company. This was his first major assignment and he wanted everything to be as close as to perfect. He would think back on every argument in the meeting room in the days leading to the launch and irrespective of the fact that he may have fiercely opposed the argument from his detractors, if there was any merit in them, he would include them into his plan. He had two stations - meeting room at office and his study at home. He had put on weight, which he was aware of and some arrogance, which he was not. The launch was more or less on expected lines. Even the encomiums showered were expected and so were the cautious prophesies of sooth sayers. Mohan was usually level headed but the calmness this time around surprised even him. There was a lightness of course. He looked forward to the break to which he kept on adding 'much-needed' without really meaning it. The break was also coming to an end without any break for Mohan from the strange sense of being an emotionless witness to events of his own life. On the last day, he ventured out early morning for a walk. The sun was quite bright even at that hour of the day and Mohan had no particular route in mind, the city was new. He did not mind though, he was feeling better. He saw a bunch of school kids chasing one another perilously close to the road, an old man cycling and muttering something to himself, an old lady grabbing the arm and looking with gratitude to another young lady, three middle age women in purple, pink and aqua with i-pods tucked into their ears walking towards a park, a school bus honking and speeding past the tender-coconut hawker, a young boy catching the news paper which bounced off the 2nd floor balcony on his first throw, a road-side tea seller haggling with the milk vendor over change money and a group of old men with sticks in hands coming out of a park after their morning routine of exercise. Mohan jogged back home and was exhausted by the time he reached. He showered and then sat down to read newspaper with a cup of coffee. He was sweating when he entered the shower and the stint at kitchen did not help. He was wiping the sweat of his forehead with the news paper till he finished his coffee. He changed his position a few times over to come closer to the fan in the drawing room. He switched on the TV, flipped through channels, pages of newspaper, scrolled down the contact list of his phone and switched off the TV. He called up his friend who was settled in another country now and an uncle who was moving in to the town. He opened his laptop and after a while shut it down without figuring it out why he opened it in the first place. He arranged and then rearranged his book shelf and picked up a book. It was well past noon when he had his lunch and the heat was rising. He kept wiping his brow with a towel and washing his face but the sweat returned. He read another book and talked to his family. He checked his e-mails and replied to few of them. He got up around evening from his unkempt bed and poured himself a glass of wine. He was still sweating and the towel and his shirt were wet. He did not switch on the AC or go to his study. It was his purging. He felt alive, as if life was trickling through his pores after his interaction and acknowledgement of the world outside this morning and a different routine at home. He felt many emotions which may not have a simple name or classification. He felt deja vu but could not figure out for what. He felt sad but did not understand why. He stood at his balcony for a long time watching the sky which was looking like a movie screen just before the light is beamed into it from projector room. It started to rain slowly and a cool breeze was touching his face. He did not know how long he stood there or if the droplets on his back were sweat or rain.

The river as big as the sea

It is hard to say
What has become what.
And who is flowing into whom.
The mighty river
Has become as big as the sea.

The calmness of the sea
Is there in the river now.
Like a glowing sheet of silver
It lays along the green banks of villages,
Brown roads of the city
And black rocks of the hills.

The sea it seems has become restless
As the river.
Years of mingling,
Of listening to the grief and joys
Brought along from the hills and
The plateaus and plains 
Have finally affected the unmoved
And usually restrained sea.

The sky has seen it all
And is expressing its anger
Through the redness spread all over
Its face, and the river and the sea.
The flow has reversed,
The giver has become the receiver
The holy has become ominous.

This year the floods have been really bad.

Flies

Manu picked up his phone in the middle of an afternoon meeting at work and was surprised to see several unanswered calls from Radha. They had just moved to a new house, he was worried. He stepped out and called back to find an extremely agitated but helpless Radha. She had spotted a swarm of flies around the kitchen who did not relent even after she had tried a few good measures suggested by her mother over phone. Manu did what he could over a phone and got back to the meeting.

Radha had no comfort from time or the flies till Manu returned just before dusk. Whether Radha was sulking more because of the flies or because of Manu’s indifference to them was hard to tell. Manu started off where he left at office and was lost in his laptop and work after a cup of evening tea. Then a joyous cry from Radha forced him to get up to the kitchen where Radha was very happy to see one or two of the last flies who were hovering there.

‘Flies can’t see in the night’ said Manu, trying to sound wise and comforting Radha.

‘Really?’ Radha was happy to see the flies disappear regardless of the weird logic of Manu.

The rest of the evening and dinner was rather uneventful and both were quite happy about the serenity of their new neighbourhood and their own judgement. Manu did not realise when he slept off while watching the TV. Radha was asleep in another room. He was awakened by a noisy din of something which he was not sure was a part of his dream or present at their new house. He woke up to find a swarm of flies fluttering intently over him.

Disgusted, he went to the bathroom, waving vigorously with a cushion at the flies who seem to have scattered again. He almost gave out a cry when he opened the bathroom door. Another bunch of flies were almost waiting to pounce upon him. He somehow managed to get past them and get back to their bedroom where Radha was fast asleep. He slowly got on to the bed and assured that there were no visible things around the room, closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep. He could not.  

He lifted one of his eyelids slowly to see if they had come back from somewhere. Nothing. Then, he started to think – flies are generally attracted to dirty things or exposed food items with strong odour, but the military vigilance of Radha ensured there was nothing matching that description that ever lay unattended, especially after moving into this new house.

Then an image of a dark old man with tattered clothes sitting outside the general ward of a big city hospital with an exposed pink wound, waiting for nurses to attend to him, came to his mind. He could remember that there were several flies hovering around his wound and this man was waving with his trembling hands at them switching between the two arms with great difficultly as one arm was resting on the ground supporting his body. Manu could not still be sure if he was racking his memory or this was another of the real life-like dreams we have.

When he opened his eyes again to check, there were flies, large in number but silent and they were almost suspended in the air. As if they were already sitting on some wound. Whose wounds? And if there were any wounds either of them were carrying, how did the flies know about them? These wounds are certainly not visible. 

Before the ice-cream melts

Rohan knew that something had to be done; a simple sorry won't do. He often wondered how is it that often we rely on words, often spoken with same manner, to clarify and make up for a damage done by words. He preferred writing; at least some space is there for someone to think. But this was a time to act!
He thought over a few options but rejected most as were either too banal or too melodramatic. Then he thought of an ice-cream. She was generally very happy to get some savory (usually hot and spicy) as a gift. He would usually get her samosas with flowers, vada pav or pav bhaji with perfumes, chhole bhatures with a new Saree,  gulab jamuns with a wall-painting. But then he thought, would that be too easy or what if she did not like the particular flavor. He went up to the stall, still unsure and chose one particular flavor. He thought about changing that one and did too, much to the chagrin of the young boy at the counter. Rohan gave him the look which said 'you won't know yet my son', although the boy was only a few years younger. He thanked the boy and headed back. It was an afternoon of May and sun was still blazing. He suddenly realized that he has to walk back and the ice-cream will certainly melt to quite an extent. He remembered what she had told him at a marriage dinner 'its never the same once it starts to melt', in reaction to a piece of ice cream he got her and had been intercepted mid-way by an elderly aunt for quick chat.
He started to walk fast and that was quite an challenge considering the bustle of the market and the distance to their home. He almost ran half the distance, jogged a quarter and walked to catch a breath for the other quarter. Since it was all sealed he had no way of knowing if the ice cream had melted. He climbed up the stairs, two at a time and almost twisted his ankle on the last few stairs reaching his flat. He pressed the bell and eagerly waited to see the look on her face. This was one thing he could never guess despite the time they had known each other. It was not as bad and she asked where had he stepped out and why. He simply thruster the wrapped ice-cream to her and started to remove his shoes. She opened the polythene and started to have the ice-cream completely oblivious to his presence. She slowly turned back and went into the bedroom and finished the ice-cream. Rohan stood there by the door watching her. She lifted her head up and there was a child like smile that lit up the dimly lit bedroom of theirs.
'Why are you standing there, go and change your clothes' she said and went into the kitchen.
Rohan went into his study to do as asked smiling and shaking his head. Normalcy has been restored. 

Untitled

I will not judge you
By the colour of your skin,
Or by the structure of your face, 
The kind of clothes you wear, 
Or by the language you speak.

Not on what you do or do not,
Where you live or have been to. 
Whom you know,
And who know you,
Will not matter to me.

I will take you as you are
And treat you as you.

past admission

Apologies for lack of capitalisation and bad punctuation but if you like/dislike the piece do post a comment. Thank You 

--

'Did you ever hold a woman as close as this?' she asked and hid her face in his in order to avoid the chilly winds over the top of the mountain where they has walked up in the morning to see the sunrise.

he was silent for a moment. he looked at the mountains, the clouds and the sky.

they all lay bare in front of him, in front of all, to witness them as they are, no hiding, no pretentions, no lies...just true and pure. 

'yes'...

he felt her stiffen in his arms..

'did you ever kiss her?'

'yes' he answered matter-of-factly and got lost in thoughts.

he did not realise for sometime that she had slid out of his arms and walked all the way down to the old colonial guesthouse where they were staying.
he sat there for a while, feeling the wind and the sun rays on his face. he remembered that night.

he always regretted the way his relationship with Diana had turned out, most of all he regretted being flirtatious about that relationship for a brief period of time.

he could not stand his own lack of seriousness and the whole casual way he approached her. it did not last long, he did not want it either. he wished it never happened, but then that's not how it works. you can't wish your past away. 

he sat there till he could not sit there any more due to the blinding sunlight.

he ran all the way back, when he realised that they could not find dinner last night and she would be hungry for breakfast.

'hey, i have asked Bholu to make some parathas for us, get up'

he knew she would not.

he went up to her, pulled her up,

she had cried.

'we can not control our pasts. can we? it was a mistake. it has nothing to do with us now.'

he hugged her hard and let go himself. he was crying as well.

'i can not lie to you. i do not want to lie to at least one person. that is you'

'i never knew...'

'how does it matter now'

they were silent for a while and then as if tears would find their rythymic way out of their eyes.

'you must be really hungry. come out for breakfast'

'no, i am not hungry'

'that means you are almost starving. come out'

he hugged her tightly again

she said amidst sobs

'does he give mint chutney with parathas?'

'yeah'

'can i have one extra paratha?'

'yeah'

Homecoming!

She had come back home, after a long time.

He hesitated to ask her to spend some time together at his place after they met a common friend's place for a party. There was an apprehension of being misunderstood, of being said 'No', which would have sounded like 'No! Never! How did you even think about that'. But he risked being hurt and refused as he did often.

She said 'Yes'. He was surprised, but did not want to get into reasons. He was simply happy at the thought of having her close and to spend some time with her.

His apartment was familiar. Nothing had changed. She knew nothing would change. It was she who changed and managed the home which had become a 'house with things' in her absence. She did not ask anything, she quietly slipped into her slippers, dusted by now, and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he could smell the familiar ginger boiling in water. He could picture her, tucking her open hair back behind her ears, boiling milk in the other burner, chopping ginger and making their favourite ginger tea.

He had changed into warm clothes for night. She got the tea to the bed room and sat next to him. They both began to sip the tea. It was good, it was always good.

They were silent, they were both thinking.

She was thinking about the car ride back home from the party. She had decided not to tell him anything about these few months when they had not met. She had decided not to tell anyone. He asked once, she refused. He asked again, she refused by saying 'there is nothing to tell'. He knew this line meant something has happened.

He did not ask again. He put his palm over her head and started to caress her hair. He never liked her hair tied up. She knew that and had undone her hair just before coming to the party. He continued to caress her head. She stopped that car mid way and hugged him. There were tears in her eyes. Then she told him everything. It was not clear now, who was crying or who was sadder. His sense of humour usually deserts him at such moments, but he found a line which made both of them grin. She was looking at his hand over her shoulders while she was driving. He knew this signal. He put his hand over her hand which was over the gear. Warm and intimate, both felt better and she smiled at last and cried out his name "Nirvaan" and raised her head like a calf.

"Priyaa" came the reply and more caresses on the raised neck.

When they were very happy and could not find words, they would just do this and they would both understand.
He was thinking about the party and how he tried to avoid looking at her and even listening to her. Their glances met couple of times, but he turned away immediately. He was never comfortable with her talking to someone else for long at public events. They have had fights about it, though she was happy within that he was so possessive about her. He simply told her 'I can't help it. I am sorry'. This time he avoided her completely. It was her who was not feeling okay with this. She tried to join in a group he would be talking to and he would leave the group in a minute making some excuse.

'I will refill my drink' or 'The Kathi rolls are awesome. I will get some more!' Then she followed him and their friend to the kitchen for some water. They looked at each other. Then, as if they had planned about it, they both announced that they had to leave. Then as they were saying goodbyes, they involuntarily held hands and went out like that.

"Should we see some videos on youube" she asked and took his phone in her hands.

"Why don’t you change and be comfortable?" he replied and took his phone back and put it over the purple table, she painted one weekend.

"What do I wear? I did not leave anything." She was apologetic about the last line it seemed.

"You can wear that maroon kurta of mine which you loved" He replied and handed over a white towel to her.

"Thank You" and she rushed into the bathroom to change.

"You look better than me in this kurta" he said as she came back. He was holding a set of moisturiser for her.

"This is the brand I use! Why are you..." she stopped mid-way the sentence as he avoided the question and turned away to get blankets and mattress.

She stared at the moisturiser for long and the image of him coming from behind and hugging her while she used to put moisturiser while getting ready for office and kissing her neck and smelling her hair came back to her mind. She was brought back to the present by the sound of his phone. He picked up the phone and went to the other room. She put his jacket back in the closet and spread out his bed with blanket for him.

He came back from the call and slipped into his bed and watched some of their favourite videos. They watched and laughed for quite some time. All the tiredness of the party and heaviness of the drive were forgotten.

"You know, I am telling you again. You laugh like a man" he said.

"And you are more emotional than most girls, in fact most people" she laughed back and said.

She shifted her position on the bed and made room for him to come up. She knew, he was not very comfortable on the mattress on the ground. They lied next to each other and shared some old stories about childhood. They laughed like crazy. She could not control her laughter on some incident and he could not help cuddling up to her and caressing her hair.

"You know what, every time I shampooed my hair, I would think of you" she said and hugged him tighter.

"I know. I thought of you every time, I saw a woman with nice hair. I loved to put you wet hair over my face and smell them after every shampoo of yours. Especially at night because..."

He looked at her, she was almost asleep.

"Priyaa...you want to sleep?"

"Hmm"

He got up and kissed her good night and switched off the lights.

"Good Night" she said.

He drew closer and gave one more kiss on her cheek and could see the smile on her face. He was happy.

They woke up almost at the same time next morning.

“Good morning!, Are you up” he said.

“Hmm. Come closer, I have to say something nice to you” she whispered.

“Yeah” and he jumped into the bed.

She had to book tickets for a weekend vacation.

"Are you going alone?" he asked, knowing that she hated to travel alone and be alone.

"Not anymore!" she replied with a mischievous smile.

"Then?"

"I am booking you in!"

"Okay! Which weekend?"

"Does that matter?"

"No"

She made beat coffee for him and they read news paper together lying next to each other. Hand in hand, her head in his lap. They saw some more videos and played crosswords.

They were not bothered what was going to happen. They were happy with what had happened since the party last night and what was happening now.