Red Light

The camera that you own,
I have heard you saying
about the red light that beeps;
the light that helps you focus.
You know, you have a thing for red lights,
don’t you?
They help you focus;
they make you – You.
Remember the night of 15th June,
while we were chatting in your balcony
about people who leave,
about people who don’t,
about what happens later,
about promises made up front?
Remember that night at 2am
when a red light blinked in the distance,
and you associated it with happiness?
Remember how we thought
of one happy memory when we saw that light,
how we thought of another
when it blinked again that night?
You know you have a thing for red lights,
don’t you?
I’ll tell you one thing more.
18th June, and I’ll be on a flight.
We’ll meet at least after two years;
while bidding goodbyes, there will be people,
there will be smiles, there will be tears.
And there will be a few more things,
the red lights on the flight,
the red lights on the streets at night,
and the red light still blinking
somewhere between you and me.
It will blink,
and we will think of one happy moment.
It will stop,
and we will think of another.
In the end, there will be two more red lights,
one in you, one in me.
You know you have a thing for red lights,
don’t you?
I guess I do too.


A letter to the city I hated


I hope you remember me. Even if you don’t, it’s fine. It’s a part of our coping mechanism to gradually forget people who hate us before their hatred destroys us. It’s only fair that you forget me. After all, I hated you.

I hated you when I first met you. You were this sprawling, big city with people speaking in a language alien to me, with vehicles not wanting to pause for two seconds on the road to let a scared newbie like me go from one side of the road to another and with a sense of superiority over the other cities I have been in.

Yes, I hated you. I hated you because I thought you kept me far from the people I loved then. I hated you because there was this distance which had to be bridged with phone calls and by monitoring the flight fares. You knew all that, didn’t you?

You knew my hatred for you all along. I knew nothing would change. So, when I found a hub for those pretty, tiny trinkets that I love to hold on to, I was wary. Was it you holding out an olive branch to sort things between us? Did you want to be a friend to me? Would you be my friend and break my trust like people have done in the past? But then, those were people; you are a place.

I gradually found your beauty quite picturesque. I fell in love with the elan and nuances of the old part of you and the sophistication of the new part of you. You knew I was a sucker for lights, right? So, when I was feeling low and I wanted to be left alone, with a traffic jam, you offered me pretty lights lined up all the way on the road which I could see from my terrace.

You could see that I was struggling to hide the puffiness of my eyes after crying behind my glasses. So even in the scorching heat of summer, you brought in the rains and there I was, smiling at the rains, making paper-boats of my woes and making them sail away. Either it’s too easy to make me smile or you know me too well.

You always were there, just like Baymax, hugging all the pain out of me when I was in pain, giving me a high-five when I was happy and giving me my space when I thought it wasn’t a good time for me to talk to people.

I haven’t told you yet, but I am sure that you know I’ll be leaving you in two weeks. Remember how I had said everyone that I hated you when I had first met you? Two days back, during a cab ride with two of my friends, I said what I thought I would never say. I told that I would miss you.

That’s true. I will miss you; you and your surprises. Many might have bid adieu to you over the years; I am no one special. But I had to tell this to you because it hurts to leave my friends, especially when I make a few.

Nevertheless, keep being the Baymax for everyone out there. I will keep visiting you and maybe on some other night on the terrace, we will talk too. Till then, take care.

Thanks for the memories.

One who no longer hates you.


I wasn’t whole,
I was a combination of pieces at first.
I don’t know what caught your eye
But you tried to fix me, for as long as I’d last.
Some time later,
I wasn’t a mess of unorganised pieces.
I was a pretty structure;
Standing up as the prettiest of all palaces.
No sooner did I begin marvelling
What a beauty you had turned me into,
I saw you pull my pieces apart
And my joy’s lifespan was that of minutes very few.
One by one, you pulled out
All the pieces organised by you.
Little by little, you made me die
As if after giving me life, my death was due.
“Was I a person?” I wonder,
As I was torn ruthlessly apart.
Or maybe I was just a game of Jenga,
Make me and break me and leave me scrambling for my heart.

The Unknown Song

I have learnt a lot of things during my stay in a new city. Away from my family, counting a bit on the few friends I have and relying a lot on myself, I’d say I’ve learnt to live.

When I first came to this city, it was brand new to me; the people were strangers and the dialect was alien to me. While learning to understand them and get to know the many facets and the nooks and corners of this city, I learnt how to stay.

When I moved from a hostel to a flat, lived with 3 people instead of 300, balanced work with life, managed my savings, controlled my expenditures and learnt how to value my peace over everything else, I learnt how to live.

So today, as I book a cab to my office and the driver asks in the local dialect, I smile. I smile because I understand. I smile because even though I understand, I cannot speak. I smile knowing there is something more to learn.

As I sit in the cab, the driver turns the radio on. It’s one of those manic mornings when people whine about going to work.

The tune of a local song wafts out of the speakers. I don’t mind, because I don’t want to comprehend the meaning. I just want to imbibe the city in just like it has made me a part of it.

I tap my feet in tandem with the tunes and smile as I look out of the cab window. I don’t crave for familiarity anymore because it’s upto us where we decide to find it in. This time, I find familiarity in the unknown song.

Some things never change

So I heard

you went to a shop

with one particular thing

that you had in your mind.

So I heard

you saw the thing;

you found it –

the one you wanted to buy.

So I heard

you bought the thing,

assuming it would function

the way you hoped it would;

assuming it would work

the way you hoped it should;

assuming it was exactly perfect –

doing exactly what you thought it could.

So I heard

it turned out to be different;

different in the way

that when you assumed it to go north,

it went south;

so different from your assumptions

that the thought of buying it

suddenly seemed uncouth.

So I heard

your questions about it.

You had asked whose fault it was;

was the thing at fault

for not being was what you assumed it to be,

or were you to be blamed,

for it was you –

assuming things on the basis of what you see.

So I heard

the thing was to be blamed

for being what it is,

for not standing up to your expectations,

for being like itself;

perfect yet somewhat amiss.

So I heard

it still lies in a corner of your house;

waiting for the validation

that never comes from your mouth,

while you are your stubborn self,

telling yourself

that some things never change.

How true indeed –

Some “things” never change.

// for the things that need change and for the things that do not need to change //

A letter from your true friend

Hello, darling!

It’s been long since you dropped by to pay me a visit. So, I thought of checking up on you, seeing if everything is fine at your end.

We used to be such good friends – hanging out all the time, you asking me for advice on all kinds of stuff and I, being the all-knowing-person that I am, helping you wade through your life crisises. So, naturally, I was scared when you hadn’t visited me even once in the last 48 hours.

You aren’t avoiding me, are you? I couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong. I’ve only done you favours over the entire span of our friendship. I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I?

Remember when you had asked me about your splitting headache? I had told you that you might have had a migraine or you might have cancer.

Remember when you asked me about your missed period and I had told you that you might be pregnant and like a good friend, I had suggested tips how to take care of yourself?

Remember when you had asked me about a medicine and I had told you all about its side-effects?

Remember when you had failed in that important exam and I had told you how many had scored a 100 percentile?

Hey, and did you forget about the friends you have made through me? Let me remind you that you had zero friends when you met me. The friend circle you have today is because of me.

And what about the jobs you could find because of me? Pretty sure you didn’t forget that, did you?

We have found gifts for your family, your boyfriend and your roommates together. I have even summarised most of the topics for you on the days before your exams so that you didn’t have to delve into entire chapters from the books. I have even taught you some recipes so that your mom doesn’t badger you about your almost-nil culinary skills.

And darling, did you forget that you need validation for whatever you post? Who helps you get that? Me.

So come on, you and I both know that I am as important as oxygen for you. You need me, babe. But I don’t need you. You know it well.

Hope you come over to pay me a visit soon.


Your true friend,

A Perfect Start

Dec 30th, 2017.

10:30 pm.

“Let’s leave it for today. I honestly can’t discuss anymore.”

“I can’t either. Also, it isn’t always about your problems. There are problems at my end too.”

“You should have told me about them? How else am I supposed to know?”

“Can I call?”

“No. I can’t talk. I don’t feel like talking. I’d rather text.”

“Fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

This was one of those difficult nights when we had a fight. I knew that neither of us could get some sleep until late into the night.

But on nights like this, we usually preferred tossing and turning on our beds and assuming that the other is asleep rather than talk the entire thing out.

Dec 31st, 2017.


“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“At office?”


“Let me know when you can be available for a call. I can’t text it all.”



I call him up.



“So you were saying…”

“Yes. It’s not just you who has issues. I have my problems too. We can’t be available everyday for each other. People have bigger problems than yours. There will be days when you have to face some things yourself. I’m sorry. I wasn’t very welcoming the other day.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know about your problems. You hardly ever tell!”



“So… you have to go back to work?”

“Yes. Bye.”


Jan 1st, 2018.


“Hey. Happy New Year.”

“It’s just 11.58 here.”


“Haha. Okay fine.”


“Wait for 1minute and 30seconds more.”

1min 30sec later…

“Happy New Year, babe!”

“Thaaaank you. But I wished you first.”

“That’s a tough call. I need to tell you something.”


“I love you. See, we’ll always have fights. Every relationship has. But what matters is that we’ll always sort the issues out. Our love won’t decrease ever.”

“Haha. Hey, it’s been four years since we are together. But I want to ask you something.”


“Are you up for a lifetime of those fights and a lifetime of sorting those issues together?”

“Haven’t those four years taught you enough?”


And with that, the two of us had a perfect start of a new year. That night, the two of us didn’t have to assume if the other was asleep; we were just too sure that we would both sleep peacefully.