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

The speck of something.


That speck of something,
A not-so-existent, yet all-time-there, mysterious ‘that’.
When for the first time, she had found it, not by chance,
She was actually made to discover it,
A trait bundled up and hidden so well, eyeing for a release.

She was very proud of it,
They applauded her for it too.
It was a verve, a passion, some say,
A gift, an art, a brainer, everything,
And yet, just a speck of invisible!

She looks for it again, not believing it is gone,
This time probing the world for ideas and leads.
She doesn’t know where to look for it,
Or even what it is that will be the answer,
BUT MAYBE THEY DO?

– Stuti

That evening on the road.


It must be running late for somewhere,
Or maybe wanted to be there a little bit early?
That big red SUV, as if out to show its colour and rage,
Inching forward bit by bit, hoping for each second it could make.

On the other side of the road, this girl, a brunette,
Patiently or not, waiting for her green on the signal.
More than one thoughts swimming in her head, probing for a permutation of answers,
Possibilities of counters, mentally making note of what all to get.

Another two minutes and a half, phew!
Happened a green light, readying her to race back home to her sweet happy.
When interrupting her thoughts right there out of nowhere,
Came that snarling red monster, shyly trying to cross the road before a red.

What happened next is best not described, but a wife did not reach home with the milk and bread,
And a red SUV, now blue and black, was at the garage next day.
It sees all that, standing tall and high, there on that crossroad, sometimes red, often orange and then green,
Unable to speak but guiding them all nonetheless, that old pillar they ignore, that only object on the road, NOT IN A HURRY.

– Stuti

Her karvachauth.


It is often a chosen few days of the year, such as one’s birthday, that make one feel different somehow. One of such days in the lives of many Indian women in North India, is the day of Karvachauth, celebrated each year with renewed faith in a lot of things and forces I may not be the right person to talk about. But the positivity and fervour that the day instils in these women (and as I see it, some men too!), adds a brilliant shade to the otherwise mostly- black & white, palate of life. I discussed this festival and also wrote about it last year, so for those of you needing a background, here’s where you go –https://expressedd.wordpress.com/2014/10/13/karvachauth/

Thoughts in my head this year around..

Ah you sweet dear beautiful moon!
She competes with you every Karvachauth to look prettier and nice.
And when she finally sees you in the dark sky, after waiting for what seems like decades each year,
She resigns with a smile, to your beauty, as her beau resigns to hers.
A festival celebrating love and rituals, hopes and promises,
The fervour leaving in the hearts that love, a feeling of ‘HAPPILY COMMITTED EVER AFTER’.

– Stuti

In the rush.


Only she could hear the music,
Some drum roll, some violins.
Only she could dance to the tunes,
Some free style, some practiced moves.

Her happy heart brought smile to her face,
Her happy face brought smiles to his heart too.
For reasons she didn’t know, she skipped around in her head,
For reasons he knew, he too jumped a trampoline or two.

Their unsynchronized reasons of happiness,
But synchronized by love perhaps?
Their unknown reasons of smiles and shine,
Secretly known to their hearts too well.

They’re too busy to halt and feel,
Their increased heartbeats, the change in their rhythm.
So the hearts play along, having their own fun in this-
As these two- she and he, play along with the magic that this RUSH IS.

– Stuti

Happiness ?


She looks outside,
And the rainy smell of soil makes her happy.
She walks outside,
And the little girls doing their waltz make her smile.

She seeks to write a prose on ‘happiness’,
Or the ingredients nonetheless?
Albeit the knowledge her heart already carries,
And the constituents her mind already knows.

Her thoughts wander to words and idioms all across,
And her ideas want to be the most innovative with words.
So she probes a little more into definitions, and the art of writing,
Though already knowing what to know.

She writes, and rubbishes drafts each passing day,
And yet captures what she finally concludes-
‘Happiness’ is a virtue sans a universal definition,
It is simply that something, that makes one smile despite the varying tones and OVERTONES OF THE RESPECTIVE 🙂

– Stuti

At the platform.


There they see her standing in one corner of the station,
Staring at the ceiling, as if looking for a star up there,
Or probably staring hard in the hope that one would appear from nowhere.

She does some quiet calculations and then as if rubbishes them in her head,
She waves her hand too, as if a wand in her hand would do some magic,
And then quietly closes her eyes for a minute, sighing, not in disappointment though.

Some see her doing this same time everyday there, and one asks her what she really had in mind,
‘ Oh!’, she exclaimed, ‘You see that tile up there in the ceiling? So I look up there,
And remember my late father who was one of the workers at the construction site of this now- indispensable station. He left his mark in this world!’
RESPECT TO THEM! YES, THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO BUILT THESE PLACES TOO.

– Stuti

That face.


Hiding her face from a million eyes in the crowd,
She looks for that one face she has in her mind.
The picture in her head, she wipes a tear from her eyes,
As she silently surrenders, on not being able to find the one.

Two twinkling eyes calling out to her,
With emotions running high and low.
She sees it all on that face in her head,
Not knowing what to do next, not knowing what to know.

When suddenly she finds that face, staring back at her,
Not at all running away, in fact moving only when she herself does,
And then she turns around as somebody, she thinks he, calls out for her,
The face gone again, she smiles at how she looks today. THE SEARCH IS OVER.

– Stuti