What Dreams are made of

I'll give you a sprinkle of red and let you color the skies with it. Let it run down your dress and trace the lacing. Let it pierce through you and ignite all emotions and feelings. Let it imitate the crimson outline of your lips and seal the words all at once.

I'll give you a dash of cloudy skies and let them pour into your blue soul. Let it dance with your slate colored bangles creating chimes with the falling raindrops.

I'll give you a stash of yellows and let you play games with the sun. Give it a dabble of orange and spray the desert sands with envy. Let you paint the old cafe walls and give them a reason to shy away.

I'll give you a fleck of jade and let you run in it. Let it ribbon itself around you and take vows with the sounds of music. Let you dip your shawl in it and shine like the stone that rings your finger.

I'll give you drizzle of whites and let the rays play tricks with it amidst the sunny winter days. Let you run your nails on the pearls that run around your neck. Let you lose your troubles in mounds of whipped cream that sit on the mocha.

I'll give you all this and a lot more if you dream on.

The Indian Bride

She sat there, sipping the latest brew of the week, the Darjeeling Himalaya, watching the radiance of the full moon fall on crystals that had covered the entire city with the last snowfall. The night was a rich royal blue, cloudless, starless and just the single imperfection in the sky, lighting up the inky alleys with perfection. The snowflakes had aligned themselves along the window panes of the small tea house she came to every evening, and as she traced around them on the foggy insides, while the steam from the tea fogged her own pair of spectacles, the thoughts of what is to come in the next few weeks raced through her mind for the millionth time that day.

Her marital alliance had been fixed with a native from a the small town of Pushkar by her mother's brother who was business partner's with the boy's father and the family had been vouched the most respectable in the entire homeland. Her own family was one of elite standing in city of Chittaurgarh and her grandparents had legacies woven in their blood from generations of royals. She, on the other hand, had taken up the challenge of stepping out of the realms of her heritage and took up a seat two years ago in a University abroad to study Botany. Her whole life she had grown up in desert filled lands yet, plants, beautiful flowers and vegetation had held her interest all along, and that was who defined her - seeker of the the unknown. And maybe that's why she had said yes to this boy who she had never met nor heard but only had a picture of him from his eight standard class. Yet she had faith. Whether it was in the confidence of her mother's voice, the reassurance in her father's words, the giggle of her cousin sisters when describing his debonair features, the letters her uncle had sent her describing the proposal or maybe the sincerity of his smile in the one picture she had of his she did not now, but she had faith. She had always lived life on her on terms, continuing to break all rules and realms that are set for a rajput princess, but only today did she realize the plethora of melodies her heart encompassed. All her life she had made her heart beat to the tunes of her mind but today they conduct yet another tune. Today the beat makes her heart stop at the idea of a better half, today the beat makes her head bow at the thought of her new home, today the beat makes her realize the depth of all the happiness that lay in the horizon. It is an unknown tune, but it is hers. She is only now seeing the rainbow of colors that an Indian woman's veil is made of in order encompass the vast amounts of relationships and responsibilities in her life.

So she sips, and with every sip, pieces of her past travel through her one last time, touching her in many different ways and as she packs away memories from times gone by, she clears the air for more to come. The anxieties of a bride to be play inside her and tickle her as she plans moments ahead. Suddenly she feels a tap on her shoulder and looks up, the familiar face of Harold, the owner of the tea shop, looks down upon her and a small smile cracks through the creases of his aged face as a sign to let her know that it was time to close the shop. And so, she to puts a full stop to the bolting thoughts of her mind, packs her belongings and gets up. She is standing at the door looking into Harold's eyes, probably the only single pair of male eyes she will ever have the courage to look into, and feels a sense of completion. He had the same look in his eyes from the first time she told him of her alliance three months ago. And slowly she realizes that deep down inside somewhere, maybe Harold too had given her the faith to make this decision. And so she hugs him one last time, both of them a little teary eyed but confident that this is where their story ended. A story that is going to give sprout to many more tales and with the sweet thought, she walks out of the doors, hears the bells tinkle as the door closes behind her and takes in a big breath of the subzero chilled air. Her closest cousin sister had made her a recording and sent it with the letter from her uncle of all her favorite wedding songs as she was growing up and teased her that she would only play these at her wedding in a few days.. she smiles, presses play and walks off.

Circular Vision

Once upon a moonlit night we danced,
Bound by the turbulence of beating hearts,
Cast under the spell otherwise known as madness,
With a rush of blood to the head,
We embraced each other like lost souls,
Like there was nothing else worth left to see but each other,
Something like love.

Today is another moonlit night,
There are only tunes now,
Moods of enchantment,
The heart swings alone to its own echoes,
That was then and this is now.

Tomorrow too there will be moonlit nights,
Some with you, some without you,
But always will the beat skip and the sound crash,
Forever more there will be turmoil,
Of what could be and what had been.

Sitaron mein le chalo
Dil jhoom jaye aise.. Huzur aao