You Lover-boy, Bombay.

In the rare quiet moment,

I sit by your sea.

Feel your humid whispers, 

on winter nights of hot shivers.

I believe your touch and think

You belong to me. 

Then.

There is a sound

desperately

turning into a 

cacophony. 

The red light has only

turned yellow.

And there's already 

a traffic of hearts

racing ahead to 

get a piece of you

greet you 

"Hello!"

Oh! My Beloved! 

You're such a charmer, aren't you? 

You belong to me and to her and her and her too. 

I'm welcome any time I want.

Get a taste of your delight.  

I can sleep on your bed

bask in your light. 

And soon its time. 

To leave.

And to leave behind the key.

To realize,

it did not belong to me. 

There is space to be made. 

I can come back later, 

when my dues are paid. 

Until then, there are many other takers. 

Conversation and love makers. 

Oh! My Beloved! 

Yet, you never fail to charm, do you? 

You never let me know what you are up to. 

How can I hate you? 

Your goodbye note is also so true,

without vile.

Even when I leave you, you make 

me smile. 

How can I love you? 

Your sweet charms are for 

everyone

to taste.

Every morning I have to make way

for your daily 

haste. 

Oh! My Beloved! 

You have the knack for it, don't you? 

You're not my lover, but I can't hate you too. 

I am like that fake, shining bridge 

hanging over your sea water. 

Hanging aimlessly. 

An exercise in the cheap display

of your power-play. 

Hanging endlessly.

A means to an end, a way

with a small price to pay. 

Oh! My Beloved! 

You are a true player, aren't you? 

You know so well how and what to make me do.

You make me drunk on your love,

fall on the floor. 

And after, when I'm hurting, 

You make me want to 

play some more! 

Bombay, I leave you behind...

Sorry Bombay, I have to leave you behind...
I have to leave behind your idiosyncrasies, your ways, your life..
I am too used to you
Even when I'm here,
I assume
I am with you
But sorry, I can no longer cheat on my present
and live by my past.
I just cannot afford it any longer.
Afford to assume
that instant means instant.
For, now, instant means an hour
or 45 minutes after a puppy-faced negotiation
in broken bits of an imitated kannada accent.
I cannot depend on pedestrians and auto walas
to guide me to a destination
while I am sure, I can just figure it out that way.
Because there are too many turns I encounter
too many one-ways
too many 3rd crosses
which are different, by the way,
from 3rd mains and 3rd streets.
I must leave your linear ways behind.
Learn to adhere to pre-decided meeting points
fixed at prominent junctions,
which were really meant to be circles
and are now under-passes.
I must learn bus numbers
Unless I wish to live in the hope
of someone somehow guiding me.
Your familiarity has begun to cost
my pockets
my time
my patience.
I must leave behind the luxury
of walking down the lane
for a late night cup of make-do coffee
and rely instead on my culinary creativity
to make do with what I have
in my room already.
Except the rare occasion of being blessed
with a 24 hour cafeteria
which serves coffee, at only particular hours of a day.
I don't want to take for granted
a rickshaw waiting for me at every nook and corner
mostly willing to take me to another nook and corner
by the meter.
For, it only leaves me with the option
of long walks
or missed lectures
And long walks now actually mean long walks
Not the 500 metres that you got me used to.
I am sorry..
Or rather, I am glad
I have to leave you behind
So that I am finally able
to discover this 'other' land.
Where long walks are a pleasure
and the non-availability of rickshaws
at my whims and fancies
leads to little adventures.
Where scheduling and planning ahead
makes me productive.
Where a new language, new gestures, new greetings
await me with wide arms
always asking my hungry soul
'uta ayitha?'
Where getting lost amidst crosses and lanes
leads me to quiet homes
and pretty lakes
and gardens that spring out of seemingly nowhere.
So, I leave you behind Bombay
Here and now, I play
by new rules
And maybe someday
I'll come back to you
With wonderful stories
of discovery
And delight. 

My dear one,

For years, I have denied you access to my heart. I have been blind to you, in my pre-decided frenzy of not letting myself ever know your charms. Yes, I have been unfair. And what have you done? You have understood. My need to ridicule, ignore and distance myself. You have been patient. Waiting for me to reach out to you in response. You have shown faith. 

And look what you have done! You have grown on to me... You have broken down the wall of my resilience, of my pretense, of my denial. 

Now, my heart is filled with an overwhelming gratitude. 

I thank you, for letting me come to you, broken down, nervous and angry. For, then, taking away the pain and not minding at all when I yearned to celebrate with another. In my lust for light and noise. 

I thank you, for being the one that lets me be. Feel what I feel. Without the distraction of merry-making. 

For all those evenings of quiet walks. 

For all the nights, when I could only listen to the rain as I calmed down to the rhythm of the pitter-patter instead of getting blown away by pelting showers. 

For sitting me down on a window-sill as the distant chug of trains reminded me of faraway lands and promised adventures. 

For bringing me back to the pride of seeking knowledge. Walking to the non-fiction section of book-stores and discovering ideas, truth and people. 

I thank you for your cups of coffee. Brewed to soothe and to inspire, not entertain and console. 

You showed me colours in the changing sky of dusk. 

You made my nights silent. The time to indulge in the Arts. 

You gave me a chance to explore places. Places hidden in deep corners of my heart.

Yes, you took me away. From friends. From the comfort of familiarity.

But that was not your intention, I see now. 

You gave me what I need and had forgotten I love. 

You gave me the parts of me I had forgotten exist. 

You gave me all that I had forgotten I want. 

Now, I come back to you. 

This time, I will give you a fair chance, my dear, to win me over... 

And I know, that in ways most unannounced, you will. 

I wish to be carried away by your breezy touch. I wish to sleep on your quiet bed. I wish to romance your subtle charms. I wish to know you, accept you, love you. I wish to become a part of you so that you can be my home. 

You will be my home again, won't you my dear one, nanna Bengaluru? 

This Time

This time,

I think I'll walk home

instead.

Or half-way, at least.

Not because I need to become fitter.

I do.

But that, another day.

Right now,

I'll walk and walk

Till I stop figuring out

which next turn I must make.

And don't think of pending tasks either.

This time,

I'll just walk

just to walk.

This time,

it won't be a sweat.

For, this time,

there's a cold breeze.

In my city.

Of winter-less-ness.