And it rainedout this November

This 9 Euro eye shadow still glows in my dressing table and in my utter mood swings it glows eyes too. This is special. This is November Again, which is equally special. 29 November days have already passed and I have been waiting for the rain like previous years. But all this month the sun shone brightly making me more anxious and apprehensive. The more sun shone, the more anxious and apprehensive I became. There were no any signs of rain. Where are the impregnated clouds with rain this November? Where have they gone? For me, rain has something special about it but more special for me are rare rains like those in April and November here. Some memories are hidden at the depth of sub-conscious and it lies there stagnant and safe. Thinking of deleting it? -Not Applicable ~ do you like to erase it – they are inerasable. This is the very photographic memory of yours. Alas! I never let you to photograph me ~ while I snapped you unconsciously through my eyes and kept you safe in my sub-conscious. Like you, November Rain also ensconces in my sub-conscious somewhere. What is special about November Rain is what is special about you. You both are quite synonymous for me that is to say you both are supplement and complement of each other.

People say and I try to believe but never can I on a serious note – “Every ending is a new beginning”. But when this comes at the very personal level the depth where it actually ends is never reached. It never ends until and unless one wants to end it. Trying to end is perhaps possible but ending it completely is just not possible ~ it always lies in the sub-conscious. I never let it end. Do you remember April? The month when we met for the first time, wasn’t it destined?  As soon as I reached home, the tiny droplets drifting away from the sky fell over my head and the very moment I receive a text from you “April Rain”. Your short text messages killed me seriously. As I read, re-read your text “April Rain” again and again, the color of my cheeks gradually changed.

Erstwhile Existence

When

Y———–O———–U

Suddenly decided

To disappear

From the dreams

We dreamed together

I accepted.

Hadn’t I

Silently accepted

Your sudden entrance

Into my dreams?

Without thinking a single time

Thinking twice

Was never a choice…

Was there an exit too?

This is Today

Y————-O———–U

Chose to cease your existence

Your own choice though

Treading over my silence

Indifferent to the pangs of pain

I suffered.

Your chosen disappearance

Has transgressed yourself

To live

Under the self-exile of your

Own hibernation

Your own hibernation

Not me..

Not me..

November Drizzles

Nov 12 ..Whoa..and it rains!

Running in the Rain (Found it in google)

We live at the ends of the world -far so far -unreachable to each other-unseen to each other-known and at the same time unknown to each other. I ignore you and you ignore me. I am indifferent to you and you are indifferent to me. Year(s) went away- but it remains same -doesn’t it? I don’t have to prove -you don’t need it too. Why don’t you and I untie the knot that we created for ourselves? Aren’t we living in zero -that we created for ourselves? Everything is damn inconsistent but why the hell are we designed in such a way that the feeling -every feeling-happiness or sadness so are so static? You grow-I grow-the world grows -seasons changes-but why feelings don’t?

This November breeze coming right from the closed window -strikes at the soul-freezes it and makes it numb. I enjoy this numbness. I enjoy this striking freezing pain. I enjoy your flash-backing memories. I enjoy the painful feeling of our good times. I wonder always – Why imagining of holding your hand was so much satisfying than catching the real hands of yours? But why the real hug of yours crossed away the boundary of satisfaction 1000 times more than that imagination gave?

The warm hug of yours

Here comes November …

Two days left ~November will come again with same gloom and sweet feverish pain. Here comes November~here comes memories ~here you come back again. Here comes November at the door and it knocks. Can you hear the knocking of the November? I can feel it and I can hear it because November revives you in me when it rains. It is so original and so live. It moves in circle and it never ends, yes I am talking about the months and seasons ~ they move all the time. Sometimes you are December ~ you are so cold, sometimes you are April ~ so live…and sometimes you are June-July ~ so wet and sometimes you are November ~ so mine.

You remember the rain in April ~ when we met for the first time and do you remember the cold November rain when you crossed the Rubicon. You went away with a promise~ while we were having bitter espresso~your promise was bitter than espresso that day ~ you were never coming back.  And, it rained that day outside and inside. I did not show water in the eyes you loved most ~ it would have made your departure painful.

Sometimes you are November ~ so mine…