We never saw stars together. We never lay together out in the open. I hadn’t discovered stargazing spots when you were around. The balcony was never home with you, always without. We spent our time either travelling or sleeping. Cooking too, sometimes, and going out instead of ordering in. Who has the time to see stars together when one doesn’t even have time to be together?

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No, I don’t see you in my things anymore. I don’t see you in my clean fan, which you always desired so but never found. No, I don’t see you in the books, mostly about estranged lovers, that you have left behind. I don’t remember you while having chai, your characteristic beverage. I don’t remember you while watering the money plant you gifted. I don’t miss you while chopping the onions, even though they never turn out to be as fine as when you would. I don’t miss you at Chai & Kadi, your favourite tea place here. I don’t compulsively check your WhatsApp anymore to see if you’re online or not.
I don’t feel the urge to talk to you anymore.

For anyone else coping from an unannounced departure of someone they loved, these would be the signs of moving on. Of acceptance and burial, of peace and solitude. For me, these are the signs moving on. The signs from the universe that whispered that you’re the one for me & I’m the one for you. The signs that waited for months & ultimately had to give up & leave. I am left with one question. When did your signs move on? I fear it was right when you were there with me. It must be so hard to be the first one to fall out of love.

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Everyone can write but not everyone can sit to write.

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A lover asked his beloved:
Will you marry again after I die?

The beloved replied:
Yes, in heaven, with you, once again.

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Thank you for being there in my life.
I’m sorry for being there in your life.

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I have kept my heart in a box
so it doesn’t dream out of the box.
Every time it has dreamed
out of the box,
the dream has come true
and the heart didn’t stay in the box again,
not until it was broken into pieces
and thrown into the box again.

Someone teach me how to
break the box
without breaking the heart.

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No matter how many people
you travel with,
it isn’t worth it until
you travel for someone.

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ये कैसे बिछड़े हम दोनों यहाँ
अब हम जब भी घूमते हैं
तो तुम हमेशा अकेली होती हो
और मैं हमेशा लोगों के साथ

अकेलापन खलता है मुझे
जंचता है तुम्हें

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the better writer you become, the more you seek criticism over appreciation.

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My room door is bolted. There are no windows, no balconies. There has been a powercut and it’s completely dark inside. I’m in bed, sweating, when wind blows over my face.

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