...

All I would steal from you is a kiss
Not the night, nor a part of it
Not furtive embraces under the quilt
Definitely not love, nor its pretense

I am flighty
I cannot hold on to anything
Longer than a kiss

I am whimsical
I could cry when you hold me
And laugh when you touch

I am nobody's sweetheart
I am in the gray zone
I linger at the edges of your dreams
Yet I can gaze at the sky
And hide the stars in my eyes
And with a kiss I could
Soak you deep under my skin.

Who teaches us to love like this
As if caught in a silent storm
To flutter and fall; To rise and drown
To be swept along; To lose all hold
I break open at your shore; I shatter

And hurt descends like a many clawed thing
Its dull leaden weight upon my chest
Like a bird of prey; her wings are shadows
Swiftly she alights; And darkness settles

I huddle beneath the open sky
I shiver under my many blankets
The storm has passed
The morning's gray
The sun is but a yellow smudge
The perennial winter has come to stay

The Revolution is Frozen: Part 1

On my first day in China Appa asked me in jest over phone “So, have you seen Communism yet?”In little more than two weeks I have fallen in love with the China I have seen for more than one reason. Yifan, friend and my amazing travelling companion for these days, has often let me sidestep the touristic gaze and look beyond what is apparent.

Day 1 in Beijing, we accidently strolled in through the gates of the imperial library from the Ming Dynasty.(I am almost sure it is the Ming Dynasty. Trained historian that I am, I have managed to muddle up most of the facts and figures on the signboards that Yifan painstakingly translated for me).We had started out towards the Tiananmen Square and realized too late that the Square was cordoned off. The nation was celebrating the 75th year of its victory against the Japanese forces. Simultaneously, the city was hosting the IAAF World Athletics Championship. It meant long vacations and a clear blue sky. Blue sky, I hear is a rare sight in Beijing. But the factory emissions around the city were slashed by 30% in view of the Athletic meet. Thanks to that my memories of Beijing are all set against an azul backdrop to which the shades of the evening and the night would gracefully seep in.

In love, I want to be like a vessel seized by storm

Moorings lost and sails cut loose.

Passion, the salty taste that clings on to each grain.

To be tossed high up and back into the tide's arm

Weightless, yet, drenched deep.

Silence

Silence
Like a thin cling film
wrapped over the heart
Stretching painfully with
each beat, desperate