umm, poppet?

i think i am twice the silly i usually am around you because (sometimes) you look at me all different and give me a case of the collywobbles, and then i get sillier but sometimes my ‘silly’ makes you laugh (and you look so pretty when you laugh,
you know?)

and i don’t think there is a better thriller than the brief moment it takes for you to react followed by the nanosecond between the reaction and your laughter going all the way up to your eyes

your eyes


oh they light up like what i’ve always thought new years eve would look like at Red Square in Moscow, you know?

shining bright, and beautiful, and then you stop

freeze, recaliberate, breathe
b r e a t  h   e

you look at me,
and you smile

(shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit)

my heart is an overspeeding bullet train
and the driver is drunk



hair enough

you know what, moony?

sometimes i think of you and then i realize that you almost always look like you walked straight out of an anime with your hair falling across your forehead paired with that face of yours

irrespective of how happy or broody you look

which is exactly what i was thinking yesterday while I was sitting at my desk and no sooner did I remember your eyes looking all shiny last saturday that i realized
that while the monsoon is still on,
there is a (fairly good) chance
that someday when we’re walking from place a to b
and the rain gods will decide it is okay to make it rain,
you might not have an umbrella
and maybe, just
i might have forgotten mine at home too
and you’ll let me have your jacket
and your jacket won’t be enough to keep my hair safe
and so, only one of us will end up with their hair looking all wonky unless they get to a hot shower, a blow dryer, and a straightener after that

and we both know what i mean when i say that that one out of us two won’t be you

P.S. the title is a joke between my friend adam & i.
this poem is written for him.


dear morethanfriends,

a while ago, as i was coughing uncontrollably, i reached for the glass of water lying on my desk

a plain pale blue plastic glass, translucent not opaque

i put the plastic to my lips and tipped the glass up a little

i swear, for a split second the water smelt like you

i don’t intend to romanticize or throw confetti at what we are

but i got a whiff of you at my desk, over space, distance and time

shocked, obviously, i put the glass down immediately

but the second time i raised it to my lips, you were gone


(Apologies to my non-hindi speaking readers, I will post an English translation of this shortly. Google Translate turns it into something so funny I almost died of a laughing fit here!)

वो भी ज़माना था जब तुम दिसम्बर की सर्दी में एक गर्म चाय के प्याले से लगा करते थे, पर वो ज़माना भी ख़त्म हो गया और हम भी.

आज जून की गर्मी में तुम मुझे बर्फ़ीली हवा से मालूम होते हो.

आज भी हर सुबह 8.30 बजे मेरी नींद खुल जाती है, पर सामने न मेरी चाय होती है और न तुम.

सुबह में ब्रेकफास्ट, दोपेहर में लंच और रात में डिन्नर सब फीकी दाल से मालूम होते हैं और जानते हो? आज कल बिन सिरके वाले प्याज़ से भी काम चल जाता है!

सोमवार से काम की रॅट में उलझे हुए पता ही नही चलता कब हफ़्ता ख़तम होने पे आ जाता है, कब शुक्रवार ख़त्म हो जाता है और शनिवार रात मएखाने से बाहर निकलते-निकलते मेरे पैर कुछ थम से जाते हैं.

कुछ घूँट शराब की आड़ में छिप्पी जब मैं रात को तुम्हें फोन करती हूँ तुम एक बार फ़िर, “कल सुबह मुझे कुछ काम है,” कह कर मुझे टाल देते हो. कुछ सिसकियों के बीच जब मैं चिल्लाती हूँ तो तुम गुस्से में आ कर मेरा फोन काट देते हो.

शिथिल और हताश, मैं कब सो जाती हूँ मैं नही जानती लेकिन अगले दिन एक बार फ़िर, सुबह 8.30 बजे मेरी नींद आज भी खुल जाती है.

तुम भले छोड़ गये, पर तुम्हारी आदत अब भी कुछ-कुछ बाक़ी है.

“My Unicorn, you have to fix it.”

People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow while the world lies in deep slumber is heartbreaking. But sometimes it’s 8 am on a Wednesday morning and you’re sitting in bed missing the sound of his voice go, “Suno, chai aa gayi hai, uth jao,” making you miss him so much you don’t know how to fall asleep anymore.

You miss him insisting that you wake up at 8 even though you fell asleep barely 2 hours ago because he wants to spend time with you and you don’t mind because you know the following hour (or two) would be all the time you’d have with him all day thanks to both your shift timings.

You miss him coming back to bed after tea, longing to hold you in his soft, pudgy arms and thirsting for a taste of your lips.

You miss him.


It is difficult not to miss you when I see you ever so often, to work, at work, and from work

I get to smell your cologne mixed with rain every now and then, and the fact that I get to smell it off of you (with twiddledee & twiddledum dancing against a bright LED screen as you text in the cab) makes it ten-times-worse

I walk up to ask you for a lighter even when I have a matchbox in my pocket, you give me the lighter, indulge me with small talk for all of 2 minutes and walk away to get yourself some ice-cream (lies)

I’ve been burning up ever since.


Care isn’t a switch I can turn off because things didn’t go the way they could have if we didn’t blow things up

Every now & then you sneak a peek from behind your computer screen while I show up to ask redundant questions like, “Do you want some water?”, knowing fully well you don’t because of that unopened can of coca-cola lying on the left-side of your keyboard

I know you enough to know you don’t care much for water in the presence of an aerated drink but I ask anyway and you turn around, take a moment to process my question and then smile and say, “No,” still smiling

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like it used to, but I walk away knowing that I made you smile, even if only for all of 3 seconds

Care isn’t a switch I can turn off because things didn’t go the way they could have if I didn’t blow things up