Then, when and now.


Then,
He asked her this and that, more than just often,
And she was eager to respond.
She waited for the questions in fact,
And at times even pushed through some of her own!
The equation, a mystery,
Or maybe not one, existed since inception it seemed.

When,
For reasons unknown, and in seasons unseen,
He noticed a change in the green,
He still asked too many, she just wouldn’t reply,
A nod, a shaking of head, a lie (very sly?).
Sometimes, a cover to something,
Sometimes, a partial blind to hide,
Maybe also sometimes ignorance, but to him,
A different ‘her’, her enthusiasm somehow dried.

Now,
Is it her, or is it him, he wonders,
Maybe both, he concludes, but definitely more than that simply!
What has happened is, ‘life’,
And its whims airy!
He still wonders where the string snapped, and she still doesn’t reply so much,
Their stories go on, and so does their trysts with trust.
Both hold on to their sides,
Hoping they are not being misunderstood.
Knowing something somewhere is not right, he waits for ‘life’ to show her the way,
There has to be one, THERE HAS TO BE A BETTER WAY!

– Stuti

A twinkle in her eyes.


She picked her suitcase,
And walked some miles.
Memories packed in there,
Some music, some smiles.

When at the airport, as she opened her diary to write,
Her pen refused to scribble, her words seemingly in a block.
She closed her eyes for some time,
Light tears in her eyes, time taking stock.

He walked to her and asked if all was okay,
She stared at him, as his eyes made her shy.
She opened her mouth to answer that question,
And shut it the next second, wondering about the stranger and his why.

She walked away with her luggage and her book all too suddenly,
Leaving him with his question and bewilderment.
That man with his concerns and genuineness,
That lady with her suspicions, and a TWINKLE IN HER EYES 😉

– Stuti

Blue.


Blue,  the colour of fantasy,
Albeit a pink for some.
Blue, the water, crystal clear,
Albeit the not-so-blue one.

The sky a blue, or bluish black maybe,
It’s all out there, and wide, so wide.
And blue is that patch of glue,
She accidentally but happily, spurted  on the aisle 😉

He likes the blue, and she likes it for him,
He wants his walls blue, and so she blue- tints all the glass around them.
She but hates the other blues, and so he handles them for her,
His happy blues, her not-so-happy ones.

Blue is a colour, not once does he think beyond that,
She but works all around it, though not many times deliberating at that!
And so they knit their story blue- his colour, her situation,
A common thread in the love, a reason for no reason, and yet reasons UNSPOKEN.

– Stuti

Karvachauth.


Before I present today’s poem, a little background on the theme.. Karvachauth is a celebrated festival in India and is celebrated with a feverish zeal by married Indian women all across. Popularly, the festival is about the wives fasting the whole day, without consuming any water or food, all for the well being and long life of their husband.  At day end, they break their fast, only after seeing a pretty full moon in the sky, and praying for the lives of their husbands to be as long as that of the moon. I feel, that interestingly enough, the moon on this particular day, looks even more beautiful than the other days 🙂 Now here I write today, a poem on this warm sentiment, that somehow renews the faith and bond of these couples.

Pretty as she is,
She gets ready in the morning, like any other morning.
But today is special they say,
For it’s the day she will dress up and fast all day, for him.

With a zeal she shares with no other day she fasts on,
She wears her favourite reds-
Nail paint, saree, lip colour, and finally, on her head,
A red line of that vermillion powder called sindoor.

Patiently, she spends her day fasting,
Blushing every once in a while,
Cursing the next moment out of hunger,
And then suddenly again, smiling at her own self and plight!

It’s evening, and now she begins to get impatient,
Enjoying it nonetheless, she waits eagerly for the moon to show itself,
And enchant her with its beauty,
For it’s the moon that she will pray to, for his long life.

At half past ten that night, when she finally does see it there in the sky,
She can’t but stop looking at this orange white beauty.
When suddenly she is very aware of her husband looking at her,
Admiring her beauty in turn, appreciating her dedication, smiling lovingly.

Forgetting everything and anything unpleasant, if any,
He makes her drink her first drop of water in the day,
And then makes her eat her first morsel in the day,
And so ends the day, faith renewed somehow, LOVE STRENGTHENED IN ITS OWN BEAUTIFUL WAY.

– Stuti

The nuisance.


He was standing on a corner on the road,
The busy traffic as if wouldn’t let him go through.
He seemed lost, looked up, then around, and then into thin air,
Then turned around and started fiddling with his hands.

In some time he smiled to himself,
And then again, seemingly went back to his dream land.
And then as if time had paused,
He just stood there and kept standing there.

After about ten minutes of doing all this,
And then doing nothing but still standing there,
He gave some confused looks, dodged some vehicles,
And tried to jump in the middle of the road in an attempt to cross it.

Seeing the failed attempts and his desperation,
An old man standing there offered to help him,
To which this young man shrugged,
And gave a disgusted, offended look.

Calmly pulling out some headphones from his ears,
The young gentleman crossed the road.
While the old man with the walking stick now stood there,
Debating with himself, the NUISANCE OF THE NEW.

– Stuti

One. Two.


She questioned all that was said,
One question.
Two answers.

He answered all that was asked,
Two questions.
One answer.

They could debate for hours together,
Both ending winners.
Yet one happy to lose.

But they found their peace only in these simple-
Two bits of silence.
One BRIGHT SMILE.

– Stuti

Destiny.


Destiny, she’d once thought drove it all and always,
And now says he, we write our own, we only.
She’s giving it a thought, and trying to play the idea,
Whether or not writing it, taking responsibility.

Fate, karma, luck, eternity-
All words denoting a lifetime of choices.
Whether or not independent and unrelated,
Intertwined with destiny somehow, its offshoots, its voices.

The question now, is not necessarily destiny itself,
It is reason, of the thought, and the occurance.
The question also being, whether she is destined to understand the reason itself,
And whether reason in itself is strong enough to reach A CONSEQUENCE.

– Stuti

Aligning a confusion.


Four lines drawn haywire on a paper,
With also some arrows sprewed in.
Like a confused diagram almost,
But still a recipe written to win.

The lines were the rules,
The arrows directions.
But most intentfully not put together,
The lines, the arrows, some punctuations.

This seemed to be real life photograph,
Of life first hand.
An amateur had thrown in the raws,
Only to in fact make it look grand.

He had but missed the existing lines
Or did he want to play them all together?
And now as she strutted along in the picture,
She brought in her own circles, some lines and mixed them with the others.

So now what this paper was full of-
Were a mix of his shapes, her circles, their lines
And together they sat down,
To align these, and make a better sense of all these SIGNS.

– Stuti