Winter says,

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My fingers feel flowers;

Rusted swing chains;

Standard, pale, blue poles;

The touch of people who stay,

But they return to emptiness.

I walk along city streets

And broken pavements which

Water conversations for two

But the darkness is haunting.

The moon asks me for you.

I remember those rough hands;

Lines that gave you the freedom to fly.

I remember travelling over them,

Seeing my world within their grasp-

With dreams to hold and a future

Too beautiful to be mundane at all.

“Where are you, darling?” again,

The winds whistle to me.

I look at the stars, the deep blue sky

Ceilings seem too far-I don’t know why

My hands are clueless, catching misery.
Lines blurry, confused, craving, today.

“But wait for the interval!” I fervently say.

The lens will show me scaling, anon!

Threads will hold each other tight and

Rush to make rough, familial vines,

You watch! I’ll sail over winds and oceans.

I’ll chase the sun! I’ll befriend the trees.

The moment winter enters my skin,

Telling me, “Open your eyes and

Just see yourself awake, for once.”

~~~

Inspired by the movie La La Land! 🙂

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A few hours before 2016

A few hours before the new year I saw an art-piece of another age

First, I was sure it wouldn’t be as good as other plans of the eve

But then I saw it

And with it my new year had already begun

Travelling back I thought about what life would hold for me

Struggles, conflicts, and fights

Over something/someone I loved.

It would be so difficult

But those few moments of pure bliss would make up for it,

Wouldn’t they?

They would,

I know.

I know this because although this movie was,

as I believe all art-pieces are,

Exaggerated and sown to stretch the fibre of our emotions

And gather them into something so overwhelmed with tension,

This movie was not meaningless.

I know that I was crying because of my age

And my affected heart,

But it doesn’t mean that it did not change me.

It was a beautiful revelation,

Of love and pure love,

And dedicaton,

And valour,

And conflicts,

And submission,

And respect,

And beauty,

To which I saw a girl dressed in a flowing kurta as one of another age.

To which I saw the efforts of an individual, and several others,

Change the mien of my eyes from an embroidered cloth to plain coloured threads merged together.

To which I heard the beats of party music as irrelevant, and unintelligent.

Unintelligent because of the time its engagers occupied,

Time, with its precious moments,

Which could have been better used,

But I cant say this without living the lives of a million,

And so I rest my case,

On the hold that sab kuch bhul ke yeh deewani aaj mastani ho gayi.

(On the hold that forgetting everything else, this lover has become intoxicated today)

SALUTE to Sanjay Leela Bhansali for decorating a thing of the past with his customary colours that resemble so much more than yellow or red.

All references of this post are made with relevance to the film “Bajirao Mastani”