Perfection

Freeing up my heart and soul
I drink joy from your eyes
Flying past my darken days
I soar across the skies.

I’ve met you in all my dreams
We’ve held our hearts as one
You are me, I am you
Our days have just begun.

Don’t lose hope, I love you,
You’re the perfect me
I’ve searched for you everywhere
You have set me free.

Mirrors on the wall don’t know
Perfection is false
Stop looking for ideal selves.
We’re human beings, not dolls.

I don’t look for you anymore
I now know I am you
Imperfection is the perfect choice
The rest is all untrue.

City

Let’s get lost in the city.
We can’t count the stars
Because the smoky clouds have won.
We have lost-
Ourselves
But not our dreams, not yet.
Your eyes have all the stars I need
My dreams are all yours,
Let’s paint our passions together
Into a pretty rainbow
And the smog will be lifted.

The city is sometimes so grey
Straight lines,
Boxes…
Traps?
The skyline is mapped out in sharp angles
The round sunset is such a sight.
Let’s count the people,
How they speed up their lives.
Find leisure in a city dweller’s paradise.
No one seems to remember their dreams,
The dreams that drove them here.
Running for life, they run away,
Round and round in circles.
The watchful city smirks.

Exhausting landscapes and construction sites
Grow, grow, grow
Metropolitan giant,
Grow but don’t eat up our dreams.
I won’t look at the shabby alleys
The slums we pretend don’t exist
I swear I’ll gaze at the palacial malls
And forget the flaws of the city.

I was born here
I know how a city crushes someone’s hopes
While nurturing another’s.

Let’s get lost in this city again
Sacrificing our bodies and souls
To the urban gods
And maybe one day
The city will listen to us,
The city will care,
Embrace,
Love,
And the city will be all ours.

Music

Stop the goddamn music
Just stop it.
No I don’t want to dance
My body rejects your happy beats
The lyrics don’t talk to me
Who are they made for?

My ears have been fed with generic
Western music
Bollywood
Bengali songs
And every time you play a song
My linguistic identities change.
Who the fuck am I?
In what language do I love?
Or exist?

English is too formal
A dress which I once borrowed for a day
And never returned.
Hindi is an ornament I bought for myself
Only worn on special occasions.
Bengali? It was always with me
Restricted reach, taken for granted
Nothing too special.

I’m sorry
It’s not your fault that
My ears are repulsed
By every tongue I know
Since I know not which one is mine.

They say
Learn the language of love
What the fuck is that, pray?
I’m sorry I’m angry
At myself, really
Confusion is choking me
That’s the only sound I hear.

Did you put on another song?

Thanks for holding my hand.
I used to be bored by instrumentals,
I never knew
That’s how music truly speaks.
Perhaps,
I don’t need a language anymore.

I wished I were like you

I wished I were like you
Long haired, dreamy eyed
Graceful like a princess
Always smelling like a garden
Your chocolate complexion
Beckoning the sun to shine upon your skin.
I can look at you for hours
Would you mind?
No, you wouldn’t
You’re too kind to shun me.
Even though I offer bland company
You smile at my attempts to make you grin.

I wished I were like you
Your dewy face lighting up with glee
Always chirping like a little bird
Hopping in circles
Among your vast group of friends.
They adore you, and so do I,
Desperately wanting to be your chum.
Have a place for a boring mate?
I wish I could tell you
How stunning you looked
When you dyed your cropped hair blue.

I wished I were like you
A cool guy never losing his calm
Compassionate but funny
Tall, charming and goofy
Always entertaining your buddies
And stealing girls’ hearts.
I admire you
Your look of not-a-care-in-this-world
Careful not to brandish your deeds of help.
A true gentleman
A real friend.

I wished I were like you
Everyone knows your name
The gem of our college
Excelling in every sphere
How do you manage?
Guitar, basketball, debates
Even elocution and drama
You are everywhere, man.
It’s intimidating, honestly
But it must be great being you
A blessed amalgamation of virtues
You’re an example to follow,
My mother is proud that I am your classmate.

I wished I were like so many others
People I know
People I don’t
People I imagine.
Oh how I wished I were not me.

It’s different now,
Now that she has told me
She wished she were like me.
She, who I thought was the happiest soul,
The embodiment of perfection.

The grass is always greener on the other side.
You can’t escape yourself,
Because you aren’t meant to.

Fuck sad poets

Fuck sad poets, you said,
Their whining asses
Always comparing teardrops to rain,
Forcing similes into clichés.
Fuck their dead old sorrow,
Their hollow-hearted love.
Suck it up, bitch,
Make things work
Don’t get fucked and cry after
Or worse, write sappy poetry
Inviting some more fellow fuckups
To celebrate melancholy
With words and wine.
Fuck sad poets, you said,
The world doesn’t need their gloom.

But darling
Why do I see you
Hiding sheets of paper,
Verses scribbled on them?
She broke your heart, didn’t she?
I can see the forlorn look in your eyes
Typical of the poets you despised.

Poets never created misery, my love,
The world was already full of it.
All they ever wanted
Was to
Set themselves free.

Image source

Love/Affair

Lovers II (1928) by Rene Magritte

I’d like to fall intensely in love.
Fall in so deep
That I hit rock bottom,
Only hoping you’d lift me up.

While pulling me up
You’ll fall in love too
Over my beautiful locks of hair
My tiny waist
My flawless skin
And before you finish lifting me
You’ll fall down yourself.

We’ll fall together
Deeper and deeper
Intensely in love.

One look at your chiselled jaw
Your muscular arms
That cocky smirk
And whoosh
I fall twenty feet deeper.

We’ll fall and fall
Until we can’t see
Our perfections anymore.
We’ll fight and fall out.
Fall out of love
Get out of the pit of intense love
And float apart
In giant bubbles of ego.

But
Neither you nor I possess
Such supermodel-like perfection, do we?

Maybe we aren’t fit for
The age-old tale
Of the dashing damsel and the handsome hero
Who didn’t step past their face values
Always sticking to
Love at first sight.

Maybe we aren’t fit for a love affair.
I am glad
For our greasy faces and gaping smiles.
Maybe we have hope
For love.

Beauty

A little girl with stars in her eyes
Believes her balloons will reach the sky,
And carry her wishes to the gods above.
She strains her tiny neck
To look at the vast space
A little worried if her balloons reached safely.
She still has 
Concrete faith in 
Gas balloons
Her eyes still sparkle with innocent joy.

The teenaged boy
Runs with his friends in the neighbourhood
Competing outside the syllabus
Competing for fun
Who can reach home the fastest?
Sweaty arms and sweaty legs,
Glistening,
Eyes too.
His only playtime after hours of coaching classes.

The tired youth in his office outfit 
His head heavy 
With work stress and the bike helmet
Finds a way home
The glaring traffic lights
Cannot shine as bright
As his wide grin, 
His wife embraces him
Home, sweet home.

Two lovers at the park
Reddened cheeks glowing in the shadows
Like bright graffiti in a dark alley,
Emanating energy and warmth.
Pure indulgence in the loveliest of sins,
Even the gorgeous moon is dimmed by their glamour.

Some days
I only see the beauty in this world.
It does not matter if I am a part of it
It does not matter whose beauty is supreme.
All that counts 
Is the brightness and the light.
Silly me,
I don’t want to blink, not even once
Lest it should all go away. 
Beauty, please stay.