It was love

For me it was all for love
For her it was a daily routine
I dont know who is Laishram Kala
but his two sons were beaten up by police men
she said
“you know! mistaken Identity!”
I rode her to Kwakeithel Kongjengbam leikai
she carelessly sat on my Honda CD 100
unlike other flamboyant girls
who will refuse my bike
unlike other lovers who often say
to each other “I love you”
we dont say any thing
we just say it thru our fingers
with our blocked noses at nights
seperated by miles and miles
Seperated by many of her patients
and buildings and sleeping beauties

Her breast touched my back
i could feel it through my jacket
we found Laishram Kala's place
she said “how will u leave me here alone?”
I knew i would wait for her
She went and started a conversation
leaving her rucksack with me
i saw her noting down things
talking to the victims
and i found myself noting down all the things
we have had in past many months in my mind.

I met her when i was alcoholic
We are being seperated by lovers
We are being seperated by Imphal and Delhi
We are the victims of ourselves
We cried to each other
we tried to act strong to each other
we acted like we were fine many times
but we both knew we want each other

She walked towards me with a lady
i though she was done
then she showed her two sweet fingers to me
meaning she would take two more minutes..

my waiting continues
i looked around not for her .
i saw the yellow mustard flowers blooming
against the barbed wires
I saw two little bees humming
may be they were teasing me for my wait
I saw a black puppy smelling its own arse
i saw a pond full of water hyacinth ...

There she came out
and we headed back
wish i could tell her I enjoyed waiting for her
and I will enjoy it whole of my life
I will love to write whole of my life for her
such lousy poems

Sometimes she said “I love all your poems
I love them better when they are about me ”
She said them all with a giggle
To me the giggle was her smile

ah our telephonic love conversation
at such night does nothing good to me and her
I know she must have been staring at the emptiness
inside her mosquito net just like I do
just to write this poem.
when she speaks with her nose blocked
I wish my hands could reach her
i wish i could smell her skin
and whisper in her ears “what went wrong
that i dont have you now in my arms”

No comments: