Recreation

I want to write.
But I laze,
And let my fingers
Dissolve the words
In rounds
Of deep, wet circles.

Jazbaaton ka kya hai, aaj hain kal nahin.

I have discovered that I have a romantic inclination towards my new phone. It is my gift on post graduating this year. I realised this was more than just a new phone thrill when I caught myself the day before, laughing shyly and turning over in bed, my fingers sliding over its smooth sleek screen as if to push away strands of hair had it been a person. But it's not. I've even bought a dark purple cover for it. Purple is my favorite colour.

I take my phone for long walks in the park and I take my phone to bed. At night I listen to Chopin's piano preludes and stare at the beautiful screen long after its light has dimmed, though not dim enough for me to miss the slant of Chopin's nose that takes over the whole screen- my gorgeous baby, reflecting my senses that have been consumed by the artist. I change the music to Prateek Kuhad's, whose voice suddenly makes me think of several sad scenes simultaneously. But just as I begin to tear up, he croons, "Jazbaaton ka kya hai, aaj hain kal nahin."  The tear falters at the waterline of my eye, bewildered about what just happened. It chooses to stay in this night. 

How is one to explain such deeply moving experiences without the risk of sounding utterly ridiculous?

There's a bit of a complication however. I am unable write notes in it. I still need a real pen and paper to write. It's like you just cannot bring yourself to have sex with the person you love. I was devastated when I found this out for I could not claim my greatest pleasure. You know, the one that A. R. Rahman sings about all the time.

But like any other couple, phone and I will
 keep trying. 

Bite chunks out of me. You're a shark and I'm swimming.

Go alone my flower 
And keep my whole lovely you

Serious Men

Based on observation.

I met one boy who has thought so much that now I think he is capable of thinking about nothing. He doesn't care enough to tell you about it; what's there to tell after all. He doesn't care for conversation. He seems bored of the things around him - at the same time, when someone takes note of his camouflage, he responds with mild amusement.

I met another man whose thoughts never leave him. He is not big on drinking but he indulges himself when he is with us once in a while. I had hoped that that would help numb his senses but the opposite happens always. He is pelted with thoughts and words escape his mouth in the form of daunting questions with the stubbornness of a waterfall. He is an honest man.

I also met a boy who looks like the gorgeous hero from a superhero movie. He reads too- I've seen him many times in my college library. Once I saw him going back home with a copy of Persepolis in his hand and I swear my heart stopped for a few seconds. I mean, it must take a lot out of him to take his face away from the front of the mirror and put it between fat books that sell well-reasoned crap. (I don't mean Persepolis) I think it's a good idea to not have a conversation with him. 

The last one is perhaps the most interesting one I have met while I've been here. He doesn't talk much, especially on text. But holds a great conversation in person. I don't know what his purpose is but his purpose sounds better than your purpose. He's a man of action. The right kind of aggressive. Quick and light footed, he easily slips into his white canvas Bata shoes, (the ones we were made to wear back in school) and asks if he can get you anything. He gets his good shirts dry-cleaned and donates pencils for underprivileged children once a week for his little bad deeds. That seems neat, for now.

Photo from society6.com

Stet

stɛt/

verb

1. 1.

   let it stand (used as an instruction on a printed proof to indicate that an alteration should be ignored)

I want to wrap all my bullshit in beautiful words and feed it to you. Stet.

"Ousep and Mariamma are not ethereally fused any more, they drift apart, but when they attain a distance between themselves, from where they cannot hear the other but still see, they drift no more. They begin to orbit each other, like two equal planets that cannot let go. The distance separates them in the bed too, but there are times when they collide, searching for flesh."