Aircraft Gazing

"I see three at the horizon"
"No, there is a fourth one right there at the back, look."
"I am not wearing my glasses"
"Of course"

The cool wind touched our faces softly as we looked out at the inky

black sky, dotted with the lights of aircrafts. I took a deep breath in, I could smell the cigarette smoke in the air, I despised it, but the thought of how the crushed tobacco scent was a signature smell associated to my father occurred to me and I let it slide.

"Have you been writing lately?"
"A little. What about you?"
"I had a dream the other night, it was an entire skit of sorts but it faded away by the time I could pen it down."
"What was it about?"
"I have no idea, but it was crazy."

An airplane passed over our building and our heads moved in synchronisation to follow it as it disappeared in the distance, then I looked at him, expectantly, he smiled and told me which one it was and all the features that made it special. I nodded and looked ahead, trying to spot the next one before him.

Of What Was And What Is

Loss is like taking off a ring you've worn for a long time

Your finger still feels the weight of the gold band which isn't there

Your hand still goes towards it to twist it around the finger in nervousness

You look at your middle finger again and again seeing the lighter part of your skin, the only trace of the ring that is left

It leaves you disoriented,

To not have something which you clearly feel is right there

Loss is like visiting your favourite restaurant's shut down building

You're overwhelmed with memories

You remember every table full of chatter

You remember the wooden doors that opened to another world

The familiar scent, the lights, the decor
Warm, lively and alive
And you smile from the feeling

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms 

Like the ghost of what was and now what is

Taking your smile away and replacing it with shudders

The building is still right down the street
( The room is right down the hallway )

If you listen closely you can hear the chatter
( If you listen closely you can hear him calling)

The windows are intact, giving you an insight into the past
( The pictures in the frames are intact, giving you an insight into the past )

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms

Empty Spaces

The empty spaces in my heart
Let my arteries pour blood into them
As it thuds a little uneven
As it thuds a little slower.

The galaxies
And skies
And suns 
And all the pretty things

I try to gulp down my throat
To make myself feel that I am full
And that the empty space inside my stomach doesn't exist.

The empty space in your room
Haunts me
Each and every time I cross it
Some times I fill it with my own being and pretend to be you

The empty spaces in my eyes
Craters created by the meteors of the lack of the sight of you
Fill up with the streams that flow out

The empty spaces between my fingers
Burn into my eyes when I cross the road
I curl my palm into a fist
Letting the thoughts fade into the music of traffic.

Stomach It

Look at the blood on your hands
The dark pigment slipping through your fingers
How badly do you wish your body were a jacket you could slip out of?

Does it feel good when the blade of your tongue
Cuts right through skin?
Do you taste the metallic taste of the liquid?

Slowly
Methodically
You slice every word to hit a mark

Push the buttons
Pull the levers
Perfectly

Twist the mind
And hence mangle the body
Slow dancing
To the ballad of abuses hurled
In the blood bath

Does the guilt of what you have done ever get you?
Catch up to you while you run around gas lighting lies?

But remember,
Just when it gets too bad
And your insides can't hold the gore
Of what you've done
Stomach it.

The Art of Taking Care of Flowers - Part 3

//The Thorny One//

First step: name it.

The flowers in this plant grow once in a blue moon

But the spikes coming together 

Look no less than a galaxy of stars

This one doesn't grow with daily sips of water

Or the manure you put in the soil

The Prickly Plant grows out of the magic of love

Take a paint brush,

One that you can twirl between your fingers,

Dip it lightly in water

Cleanse the green between the spikes

Whisper happy thoughts 

While you gently rinse it out
Let the sun softly kiss 

Ensure no parasites invade its home

It is a welcoming plant 

But you are the guardian

Final step: admire it.

//Some actual helpful gardening advice with a dash of poetry. For Part One click here. For Part Two click here. //

The Art of Taking Care of Flowers - Part 2

//Potted//

Touch the soft petals
Close your eyes
Feel the energy of the plant

Clean the leaves with a magic potion for shine
( Mix in two parts water with one part milk )
Wipe the stem gently with water
Treat the plant like a child on the brink of growth

Give it a sip of water everyday
Without fail
Turn and mix the soil
Feel the damp cold earth in your palms

Put manure near the roots
( Twice monthly )
Fill the water till the brim on these occasions

Tell the flower how well it is growing,
Better yet, give it a nick name,
Tell it you're proud and you love it,
Tell it your secrets, they're very good listeners.

Sniff the amazing scent
Close your eyes
Realise the life you have grown.

//Some actual helpful gardening advice with a dash of poetry. For Part One click here. For Part Three click here. //

The Art of Taking Care of Flowers - Part 1

//Plucked//

Cut the bottom of the stems
Softly
While breathing in the sweet scent when the knife touches the green

Remove the dried leaves

Pull out the dead petals
While listening to the rustling sound when your touch meets the green

Get the prettiest vase you can find
Fill it halfway with sparkling water
Put the flowers in
Gently
While looking at the beautiful vision when the vase meets the green

Stand in awe of the beauty
Feel the petals between your fingers
Switch the water everyday to preserve the magic
While smiling every time your gaze meets the colour.

//Some actual helpful gardening advice with a dash of poetry. For Part Two click here. For Part Three click here. //

Little Lessons My Dad Has Taught Me

How to shop
Always use your gut feeling as a guide, Because if it doesn't instantly 'click' it isn't worth it,
Always remember to bargain, no matter the price.

How to socialise 
Talk to everyone and anyone,
From the guard at the gates,
To telling jokes to the shopkeeper inside,
Everyone has a story to tell
And a story worth hearing

How to garden
Always trim the leaves a little,
Water regularly,
Add manure every month,
But most importantly- talk to them,
Tell them how well they're growing,
How proud of them you are,
And how loved they are

How to spot shapes in clouds
Find a curve nearest to the sun,
Close one eye,
Put your finger against it,
Draw across the rest of the cloud,
And then let your imagination do the magic

A picture of one of the first planes my dad flew

How to keep memories
Click a picture of everything and anything,
Nothing is too little to matter,
Write it down,
As a poem, 
A story, 
Anything that keeps the moment alive,
For years to come along

My dad at 6 AM arranging flowers, making a mess 

How to Take Care of Flowers
Find the prettiest vase in the house,
Cut the base of the stems,
Put them in fresh water everyday,
Pull out the dried petals,
Remember the person who gave them to you, 
Everytime you see them in the day,
Pat your own head if they're a gift to yourself

My plate from a breakfast buffet

How to eat a buffet
Remember every buffet is an opportunity to decorate your plate,
Stay light on the appetizers,
Taste everything,
Don't be afraid to go for second servings (or even a hundredth)
Smile at everyone you see,
Because unlimited good food, music and cola,
Make life worth living 

Ferris Wheel

Take a deep breath 

Wipe your sweaty palms

Again and again and again

Grip your seat tightly

Chew on your fingers nails

Ask yourself whether you shouldve said that

Shouldve said that

Said that

That

Done that 

Shouldve done that

Ask yourself whether you shouldve done that

As soon as you begin to feel at peace with your own self 

It spins once again

Throwing you back in your seat 

Looking around for something to hold onto

Fidgety fidgeting fingers

Breathless breathing

Screaming, endless screaming

The feeling of ants crawling up and down your arms

And your thoughts crashing in a million per second

Rattling inside your brain

Something is wrong but nothing is

And then you're a little at ease

But not too much

Convinced yourself there isn't anything to worry about

But you're still unsure

It spins once again. 

On Qutub

The intricacies in these walls talk to me in a language unknown

The hands that must've touched these before my eyes have been set on them,

The footsteps that must've walked the path I walk now,

All tell me a tale I don't know the details of well enough.

They speak to me,

Whispering in my ears the stories of the past,

Telling me how every brick set here has a history to be told,

From the digger to the maker,

From the bones to the skin.

The winds which have blown through here for the past many years close their eyes and tell me how they've seen it all,

Legends I can only but imagine translucently in my mind,

Are a memory they fall back to.

Grey Walls

I hate hospitals

I hate the scent, the colour, the food
The floor, the walls, the sullen looks on the faces, the doctors,

The grief; the one that seems to float in the air enveloping you in its dark embrace entering your lungs making a home in there and 

growing, with every minute you spend, growing, with every second you blink,
growing, with every breath you take.

It baffles me how the cold food I eat sitting here tastes like cement
And I can't stop thinking about how the taste would differ
Bursting with flavour in a cafe with chats and laughter in the air

Instead of the family that is crying next to me
And I know exactly why.

It breaks my heart, shatters all hope 

And the grief that is sitting inside my lungs

begs to come out of my eyes and consume me and 

I can't breathe

Or offer words of comfort
But how do you tell someone everything will be alright when you know it's a lie
My tongue seems to choke me, lifeless in my mouth.