I love flowers; who doesn't? But I don't prefer them snipped off from the plant. So I'm not a proponent of bouquets or garlands. Years ago, while I still cared for our planet, the forests and plants, I was not so conscious about the lives of flowers. I thought them to be objects of adornment or gifts used to convey and share affection. I wanted to have something that grew under your care. I wanted to see it come from you, to hold it in my hand and preserve it as a herbarium, covertly, under stacks of my books. I wanted it so much, I forgot what it would take to separate that flower from its home. With that thought, I had asked you to bring me one from your garden. And you did. It was a perfect cut at the base of the pedicel, a bright-carmine Dahlia from you in my hand. Six years later, when you cut off all ties with me, it was pure nostalgia. I remembered the Dahlia. Beautiful as ever, but dead.
I wasn't aware you were so good with murder that you'd cut something beautiful off with such dexterity, they wouldn't even catch a whiff of how they were dying at your hands.-
It's been three years. I've stopped adding sugar to hot beverages, tea and coffee to be very specific. There's no particular purpose or intention behind it. Added sugar doesn't work for me anymore. I've reduced my overall sugar consumption too. I barely have desserts. I don't eat sweetened cakes, candies and gums, either. However, I like sponge cakes which I bake at times. So, when I do bake, occasionally, I add a tiny amount of sugar just for the sake of calling it a dessert. Yes, ice creams come to my rescue when I go berserk on emotions or hormones. But only a select few. Basically, I'm what confectioners would disregard, rather, abhor.
We meet for tea. There are two tea cups on the table. You tell me how you now make tea like I used to. Start with water, sugar, crushed ginger or cardamom, tea leaves, then a little milk. I reveal I've eliminated sugar entirely. And you probe into finding a reason for the same. I don't want to sound dramatic. But I don't have any other answer either. I croon. “You left me so bitter. No amount of sugar can do the trick any longer.”-
words that start stinging my eyes; I reply with monosyllables, mostly a ‘yes.’ I take your molten, flaming speech and start planting it into the kiln of my heart, letting it harden there. You empty your heart until my heart gets heavy with your words, and your tongue gets cold as the fire within your heart dies, and I start sweating through my eyes.
-
Promises are expensive gifts;
don't expect cheap people
to gift you those.-
Some days I wish I could sift you
from my memories and discard you
like steeped tea leaves from
my cup of life forever.-
The search
And I kept searching for you within myself,
but how could I ever find you?
The maps to my soul were lost;
strange emotions — as if someone had
emptied random bits of memories
from different people, places and parts into me.
And I'd rush in tethered meditation —
breathing in and breathing out,
taking a step in and walking a step out
of the rivers of time,
finding uncertainty
and losing touch with reality.
Then there'd be periods of voids
followed by a stinging thrum of white noise.
How could I fine-tune to the frequency
that resonated with you?
How could I find you, when
I had lost myself too?-
when you said nothing
I heard break forget leave
and my breaths arched
to touch your nothings
my perception of home—
crumbled blocks of lego
your concept of freedom—
unsolved cat's cradle
the blue string of silence
twisted between us
this home of Venus and Eris
undressed chairs
sheeted beds
your butterfly mouth
a caterpillar now
in its cocoon
our loopholes dangle
coiled telephone wires
your need to remain detached
my idea of being together-