Deciphered He

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He was sitting by the window, stirring his ‘Earl grey’ as if lost in deep remembrances. And i was just staring at him standing in one corner as if I wanted time to just freeze there. Did I ever tell how I loved his experimental green tea’s. Yes, experimental, for I still don’t know what all he used to steep in the boiling water while preparing them. It always had some ‘special’ herbs he used to get hold of while on his travelling expeditions. Last one he got was from ‘leh’ and must I tell you the smell of his tea was always aphrodisiac. And boy the house was ethereal with that smell whole day. After all he used to love sprinkling such fragrances whole day to me. I almost got addicted to those herbs, and the tea. And maybe even him.

His friends often called him ‘the saint’ and I could never decipher why. Then one stormy night I heard him practicing music loudly as I was preparing some snacks in the kitchen. He was disturbed that day and his voice said so. He had very trained loud decibels. He used to like being called a composer but never the singer. But the ‘alaap’ he used to take used to put a trance on me. I just loved his voice quality and he used to blush at that fact. That night, I ran towards his room to check on him. His hands were pale blue and yet he was going on and on playing the tabla. I could see him lost in his verses. It was horrific to see him in pain but I could not go and embrace him there. For only taking it out through creations subdued him. I stood still and realized why he was called so. I knew there he was born for tasks beyond the world. And I desired the world with him. I just died a little more then.

Little more of ‘sufism’ and ‘rumi’, I used to find in his abode as I knew more of him. He was a wanderer who broke all rules and yet early morning I used to find him reading something on those ‘religious beads’. I used to ask him ‘was he religious ?’ and he used to say ‘religion is in the mind’ and just go on meditating. At other times, I used to ask him ‘but then this ?’ and he used to give me a silent smirk and look at the portrait on his wall. It was of his grandfather. He had sketched it with his own hands one day from the lone picture he had of him. He called himself his ‘murid’ or devotee. Maybe, mornings and the prayers and the beads were his only way to reach him. His only way to seek advise about things that made no sense. Things that God willed. Like snatching his dear ones permanently. I might never know for sure for he hardly said. But he knew, I knew.

One summer afternoon, I saw his arms uncovered. It always was amusing to me that a man with such a good built always preferred full shirts to any kind of voyeurism as if hiding something. I saw what it was. It was his inked shoulder, a dragon tattoo with some message. I didn’t ask but he understood and just said. ‘Sometimes only pains can kill pains’. And I felt something just piercing me through. I wanted to touch it and with it heal him. But only if it was that easy. It was at such times, it was not even easy to embrace him. I was just a devotee. But I knew he wanted me there.

Then one night, I heard him howl. Like the wolfs’ howl. I went inside and saw him ripping inside. He was in deep pain. His eyes said so. He sitting shirtless and his whole body was wet with sweat. He had tears that said just too much. I wanted to go near and say something but he often read my silences. He just said, ‘don’t destroy yourself’. How wish I could tell him how destroyed I was already. I knew he will leave again. His feet needed to travel to submerge all his pain. His time with me needed a break. I wouldn’t say it was over for it will never be. His eyes told me then, I had a piece in his soul which hurt him more for it forces him to stay. But I could not do this to him. I just could not. I took his backpack, stuffed his clothes and asked him to leave. To go to the mountains or the seas or to the skies, but go. There he understood I knew him more than he could have imagined. I didn’t let him say much and pushed him out of the door. For if he had said more I would have broken down. And I did.

As he left, he just said one thing. ‘ I need to go and I will. But home I will need always. And I only have one. Where you stay’. And tears seeped down our eyes. I choked and so did he. And he left reluctantly.

He might come or might not only time will tell. Till then, I embrace his smell every night as I sleep. He still plays melodies in my dreams and kiss me every morning with the sip of my tea. He said, I might be destroyed and I now think I have never been more awakened, more healed and more alive.

P.S. Something in me want to write more on this series. I might whenever I find more words to it. Or might never. But I will still keep writing about the ‘he’. You can read similar writings in the ‘He Series‘ or ‘Muse Writings‘.

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He

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Let’s talk about the ‘he’ today.
‘Who is he?’ many shall wonder.
Let’s just call him the muse.
Muse. Yes, my muse. But a different kind he is.

I knew he would  be one even before we had met. You would wonder just how was it is so.
Well, some muses are such that their tales transverse lands and reach you and all you have to do is lay your eyes on them and they be yours.

I had heard about him many a times. Even crossed paths with him. Maybe, inhaled the same air with him for decades. But still somehow, never noticed him. Maybe, because his time wasn’t right then. We were just two strangers lost in our worlds, living in the illusion that it is the end. We didn’t know we would meet someday. However, we did. For it was destined.

Then, with a sleight of the hand, something unusual happened and I heard about him. I wanted to know more so I decided let me find more and I did. And he just seemed fine. I thought I might strike some conversations with the stranger atleast.

And boy we met. No, the skies didn’t roar nor did the clouds burst open. The sun was shining very bright and I looked liked the usual mess. Then what was different ? Well, two strangers meeting and trying to find if they can tolerate each other is quite a task. Thankfully for the stars, we weren’t alone. Cupid was trying its best to sow the idea of ‘us’ in our minds. Somehow it was sowed in mine, if not him. And unintentionally he became the muse.

The muse, who sat across me beneath the stars and made me laugh. The one who woes me with his creations rather than his flirtations. He was someone I could stare all night and then shout at the sun for rising too early. Chivalry was in his blood, and the feminist in me somehow didn’t objected.

He sat there talking about all things dear. We created magic in the words and the sounds. It was like the stars wanted it no other way. And he never said no. To keep me going, he went his way after giving me the best embrace of a lifetime. With a sullen face and a sad heart I came back and I wrote. Of the muse and his devotee and I am still writing.

Today, he might be sitting in some corner, with a charcoal soiled hands and making another portrait. His fingers might be bleeding some other day composing music with his guitar. He might capture the world in his eyes one day, and in his words another. And I will stand still in another corner of the world, imagining him doing all that and wonder maybe someday, I explore it all with him.

Till then, let him touch the cervices of his lips with his cup of jasmine tea. And I wonder if I get to share it with him some day, lying on the roof, counting the stars and just feeling the silence.

That reminds, even my tea got cold. I sip it in one go and smile, for all the missed drinks. I at times think what if he wonders the same about me. What if, this is indeed destiny, which we are slowing down, by taking only baby steps towards each other. But then best stories get written slowly only.

Someday, this story will have an end. Happy I am sure. For if he becomes mine, then I will be his muse. And if not, he will still be the best muse.

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Love Forever

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The heart sings a different tune tonight
Like someone knocked the closed doors again
A serene smell lingers in the surrounding
The shroud is escaping to lift the veil again.

He was standing at that juncture, as the door was ajar
She sought it removed, and he preferred it present
There were scared souls who knew not the fate
Destiny indeed it was, that made them bond like inseperables.

Her laugher gave him the much unasked zeal 
His silence gave her that knotted pain
They knew what they felt was tearing their inside
Yet, ignored, for the scars that were still healing.

She decided to take two steps, if only he took one
He was standing at the corner, with his embrace
All that they were missing in this juncture, was words
Words, that could convey, what was written much before they met.

Yet, they still linger , holding threads of hope, of desire
Of that conspiracy, the world, might have in store for them
For the tarnished spirits they were, yearning some sprinkled blessings
To bloom the flower of love again, and make them one forever.

P.S. As promised first poem of my muse poetry is here post my recital.  With it are uploaded all poems of the series. Hope you guys like it too 🙂

Souls that Just love

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Pain hidden deep in the tears
That were sealed by the fate
Which froze them to death
As he was taking the steps back.

He came in form of dew drops in a parched land
Laughed his way into the numbness
Ticked her to free from the shackles
Making her believe, in the word ‘hope’.

Decades had passed, since the last time she felt
Wings were being born, on her scarred body
Finally, she desired only to fly this one time
And touch the skies which brought him here.

He had a plan, not to give her what she desired
But much more, for he gave what she needed most
Hope, trust, freedom and dreams were all he had
And he sought to just write them all in her palms.

She learned the art finally, to smile and to live
She finally had dreams and hope, she had long lost
He knew the next step , but his tears made him scared
The conqueror in him was failing, he was losing in winning.

Goodbye was waiting to be said, for the bird to fly
She knew he will stay, He knew he had to go
She had words to say, He wanted to just stop them
In between all these confusions, two souls just became one.

P.S.  : This piece was lying in my draft for way too long so thought will just post. If you guys remember I told you of writing three poems in three days thanks to my muse blessing me, this is the second one 🙂

P.S.S. : I am not sure of the title for this piece so just randomly wrote one to publish the post. If you find a better title, kindly suggest in the comments 🙂

P.S.S.S. : Happy New Year to you all. Remembered, it is my first post this year. Not too happy day for that post but that will happen soon. I wish I write more this year. Also, I am way too optimistic about this year  🙂

He is Just a Muse

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He loiters around in my dreams
He smiles to wipe those tears
He stays so I can just rest
Yet, he is just a muse.

He is just a touch away
He is just a sound away
He is just a breath away
Yet, he is just a muse.

He personifies beauty in me
He captures essence in me
He symbolizes good in me
Yet, he is just a muse.

He converses the best with me
He seeks to see a dreamy fate
He finds connections in vacuum
Yet, he is just a muse.

He is the cold breeze on a hot afternoon
He is the warm embrace on a winter night
He is the musical whisper for a lonely soul
Yet, he is just a muse.

He is the keeper of secrets
He is a knower of all the scars
He is a stranger you can trust
Yet, he is just a muse.

He is the eyes that infiltrates deep inside
He is the emotion that makes you succumb
He is the wish that entices you
Yet, he is just a muse.

He is the character that is just blank
He is the wordless feeling of the heart
He is the strength that holds you tight
Yet, only if he was not just a muse.

P.S. This is my third poem in three days and with every consecutive day I am writing I am seeing a growth and loving it more. Will post the first two later.

P.S.S. I am loving this creative surge. I am glad my muse is back and I hope for the good 🙂

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