Unsung Tale of Love

 

When the noise ebbed, we met

There is a piece of my heart I left

Rain drops decorated the window

Smiled back at us, the hill and meadow.

 

The dusty terrain was yet to unfold

Eternity lingers in the moment they behold

Unspoken promises they know will unravel

Journey not to end and yet they travel.

 

No poet discovers words for their pain

The corner table awaits the lovers in vain

Lamps cast jaded replicas on wet street

Lone shadows keep the end discrete.

 

Letter after letter we immersed in our longing

Bullets and books and the telephone ringing

How we met is the crowd’s favourite

Why tell them about the separation so exquisite?

 

Like the clouds roll over the grey sky

Choices long defeated memories of that July

Rain-soaked nights dare them to dream

Once again, her aroma bathes him.

When They Thought They Knew Better?

 

Week Sneak Peek

 

Let us be happy, let us jump with joy

You met your weight goals with decaf latte and soy.

 

The weekend is here and so is the virus

You ought to be funny if your name is Cyrus.

 

A couple of months from the hospital to hotel

Friday night awakens the infidel.

 

Paper boats are ready, so are the fritters

A drop of rain in my cup to wash away Monday jitters.

 

The heady reading on Alpha, beta, Omega and Sigma

Still no answers to why I may be an enigma.

 

The shoes have holes from the 10k steps of sweat

She looks within to plan a day of no regret.

 

Music resonates across the story of our lives

Resigned to judgement is the man with two wives.

 

Enough with the writer’s attempt at poetry

Saturday is a tale of dusting and laundry.

Unanswered Possibilities

 

Will you wake me up in my dream?

Will I know the song to sing along?

Can you do the twirl for me?

I know not as the echo loses its voice.

 

Will my eyes guess the secret on my lips?

Will the clock time us out before eternity?

Who looks from the green window?

The mid-day Sun casts no shadow of her.

 

Will the Moon remember the dead star?

Will blood lose to sweat?

Should the curious birth a new unknown?

The camera seeks imperfections.

 

Will passion answer your quest?

Will the years shorten my wait?

Does he befriend the fallen leaves?

The village temple pays homage to faith.

 

Will the curry turn a blind eye?

Will hunger find no takers?

Why did I drink away the questions?

Slurred memories have devoured the rain.

 

***

We, The Ones Born in 80s

If you are a 1980's child, you may know what I mean when I say that the 80’s kid is the rope in an eternal Tug of War.

Born in the decade that witnessed some socio-economic and cultural shifts of epic proportions, be it rise of capitalism, fall of the Berlin Wall, advent of cable TV and MTV, blazers with shoulder pads, baggy sweaters, neon makeup, Madonna (the pop music icon), 80’s set the pace at which world would change in the next 30 years. History has given us ample instances of how a revolution or friction impacts those born in such times.

 

So here we are, the generation that welcomed cable television in our homes, watched movies on the VCR or VCP (more popular in India), styled our hair in big curls, reserved afternoons for biking through dusty trails or baking our skin in the sun and grime with our friends, picking adult gasps and horror every time a world leader/icon would be assassinated in some part of the planet. Those were tumultuous times too and now that I see the stats, those years had lots of human blood strewn all over. But enough with the dark blasts from the past.

 

One in the 80s had the best seat to watch the world and the human race make its way through some Byzantine transformations. That would partially answer the constant state of confusion and self-exploration that our generation consistently experienced. We grew up with the belief that we are here to herald a new dawn of human civilisation. All the restless energy, the evergreen thirst for material acquisitions you witness today took baby steps in the Eighties. We were bedazzled by the Big C. For the pervs, I meant Capitalism. And yes, ‘bedazzling’ everything was trending.

 

The young and hungry then, the likes of Steve Jobs, took one giant technology leap after the other and raised the bar for all those who followed in the next decades. Oh yes, the ‘Yuppies’ were far cooler than any of the young millennials. Well, wait, you do not use the word ‘cool’ anymore? Too bad. It was cool slang anyway.

 

From portable music in the form of Walkman to wireless telephones, the 80s created the blueprint for what is to come. And boy! Didn’t it all feel surreal? As one in awe of the television, in India, it translated into being glued to all the mythology shows on weekends and if lucky, catch glimpses of Hindi film song shows. The seedy TV screen was like a magic box and promised me a life full of possibilities. If we could shove the world inside a box, wonder what we could achieve stepping out of the box. Arnold to mullet craze to the onslaught of AIDS, variety was the essence of life, the good, the bad or the ugly.

 

In our 30’s now, we, the 80-borns, find ourselves in a peculiar juxtaposition yet again. Yes, we were always in the eye of the storm and that’s why we are responsible for a myriad of innovations and out of the box wonders. Yet, the mature adult now wants to take it easy. We ushered civilisation into a world of seamless connectivity via the world wide web, yes, but we also celebrated collective human efforts. We attended protests and rock concerts; we knew the value of bonding in person, rubbing shoulders or hugging out differences. I am disconcerted by the growing acceptance of everything virtual. A ‘like’ and a click to express our participation? Do they even qualify? Who knows it better than the neon-loving, 80’s beauty? The disquiet, caused by the disruption (another millennial slang) puts us again in the churn and grind routine.

 

Can the Walkman generation, walk alongside the Instagram and Twitter influencers without being consumed by an existential angst and continue to be relevant?  

A World Without You

You left before the winter ended

The pen hadn’t finished the last couplet

Now I move among the shadows

Jokers laugh at the pathos.

The four beige walls with ears

Celebrate the lipstick mark and tears

Your stories I cannot frame

We won the war and lost the game.

Half a bottle of golden Scotch

Those moments of loss that you dodge

The broken flute has a last tune

The city without sleep now has no moon.

From a faraway land monsoon brings a song

You slip away and my prayers tag along

The altar is empty, my God went home

I say the last Hello to nobody over the phone.

Learning to Live with RA

All those steroids, immune-suppressants, HCQS and many such unpronounceable names of tabs and caps may be commonplace now, thanks to Covid-19, but I have known them since 2018.

After waking up almost daily with sore and stiff joints, I could, no longer, live in denial and visited an orthopaedic doctor and a couple of blood works later, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), a rather common, degenerative, auto-immune disease characterised by chronic inflammation in the joints and eventual deformities. Note - Use of acronym is solely to ease pressure on finger joints!

 

Auto-immune disease? A condition where my immunity decided to target my body. Or in plain terms, my crack-head immunity cannot differentiate between an external threat like bacteria or virus and my body’s healthy cells. So, it goes on a self-destruction rampage. The icing on the cake? Its incurable and will last till I last. I hear your eyes pop!

So, what happens next? One can experience a myriad thing. Like learning creative ways to hold a spoon when the thumb doesn’t move, or a Charlie Chaplin-esque gait especially when one gets up to walk. In my case, I am trying to fine tune 101 ways to eat elegantly on the days when my jaws shut tight. Does it mean the British ‘stiff upper lips’ has its origin in RA?

The medicines mentioned in the opening line are part of allopathic treatment prescribed for this disease. They are nasty but unavoidable, especially if RA causes severe damages. For instance, recently when HB count in my blood dropped to 3, doctors pinned the blame on RA, the silent Jack the Ripper. I would like to imagine it to be a stealthy vampire (inspired by the gazillion movies and novels on suave, hot vampires) that lurks in the shadow until it gets that one moment to suck you dry. While an unsuspecting RA patient adjusts to living with gradual decline of joint mobility, the under currents of RA are rather strong to jolt the human body. Four units of blood later, I am wiser and a reluctant advocate of frequent, regular health check-ups.

 

Sugar, processed food, wheat, rice, starch, dairy, animal protein, several plant proteins will be my Achilles’ heel till I tread this planet. Most of the days I succumb to the temptation or I am a slave to quick survival hacks. Selecting the right lunch is like making my way through a labyrinth and most days I fail. Imagine eyeing a plateful of your love, favourites, or usuals with suspicion. The food, in return scorns me. Never will they be my best friend ever. Millions of my fellow RA survivors fight these mini battles every single day of their lives.

 

Now your friends want to climb mountains, you think twice before nodding. The season’s best marathon is in town, you rethink participation as your struggle to tie shoelaces enters day 7. Your boss sees the fire in you and approves an official tour to Ireland. At that moment all you can think of is what happens if I get late for trainings thanks to my struggle to strap the bra on time due to a frozen shoulder or fingers? Not the happiest moments of contemplation, right?

 

The fun doesn’t end there as a renowned rheumatologist explained. One auto-immune disease can invite more of its fellow brethren and in no time, it’s a riot. One day it’s the muscles, another day the bones and the next day the mind. Wait, what? The mind? Yes, my lovelies. One of the more sleek, auto-immune villains, Lupus, can trigger depression and other psychological disorders! Ask Selena Gomez, one of the many super celebrity Lupus patients!

 

I do not intend to scare you dear reader or generate sympathy for my present condition. What I hope is that there is enough awareness not to ignore the initial fatigue or the painful change of side in bed.

 

The next time I ask you to open the purse for me or unlock my door or seem too shy to look straight into your eyes, do not mistake it as a hint to take our relationship or friendship to the next level. It may just be one of ‘My hands Don’t Work’ or ‘Neck Sore and Stiff’ days.

 

 

P.S – Do not fret. Ayurveda, Homoeopathy and Allopathy have proven medication to control the disease.