This is not fair, Krishna!
Perhaps, my life
Simply doesn't revolve you.
And you alone.
I might wake up and
Embrace your idol close
Every single morning.
But that doesn't mean
You are my everything!
I might whisper conspiratorially
To you inside the washroom,
And roll mine eyes, while brushing,
But that does not mean,
My life revolves around you.
I may dance under the shower,
Imagining myself as a part of the Raas.
And drape the folds of my Duppatta,
Letting it flow down my shoulder to my feet
Playing the part of a Vraj Gopika
But that does not indicate
That all I think about is you.
I clasp the silver bells around my ankles,
Smearing my eyes with the darkest of Kohls,
Roll bangles of each colour on to my wrists
Hook those peacock feathers onto my piercings
And draw flowers on my forehead with brushes
I might go to a temple, dressed as such,
To meet you, but then again, it doesnt imply
That you are my only world.
I may hide behind a tall pillar,
To avoid the security's gaze and tip toe
To pluck a few leaves of Tulsi,
And come back to shower them, on you
But does it mean, I love only you?
All that I hear, be it words or music,
Be it day or night, dawn or dusk,
Within or without, above or below,
In my classroom or the mess hall,
Whether in sleep or while awake,
It has always been your names,
Only yours.
I'm laughing, oh beloved!
Because, maybe, just maybe, you're not
My life. My entire life.
I may sleep early in the mornings,
And wake up earlier still, because
I end up talking the entirety of the night.
With you.
Hey! But that doesn't necessarily mean,
My heart is with you. And you alone.
My status in Wattsapp will always
Feature you, and there are those
Profile pictures, don't even get me started.
But does it mean, my Krishna,
That my life shall always feature you?
Maybe, it doesn't.
I may go for short walks, now and then,
Listen to your songs, think about you,
Ruminate about Raas, dwell on Vanvaas,
I really am laughing now, Sri Hari
At your innocence, and incredulity,
Because, it's evident, verily so,
That you aren't the only one I think about.
I may write never ending poetry,
About us, about my life, about your smile,
About those eyes, silken curls and ruby lips
But it's ironical, isn't it, that still you aren't
My life.
My everything.
My world.
My very soul.
Look at the word play Kanha,
I am really loving this game.
Because all those last lines,
Were the universal truth, blazing.
But together with their respective
Preceeding words, they made the biggest
Infesting Lies in this entire Cosmos of Yours.
Perhaps, it was your inspiration.
Remember?
Ashwatthama, (the elephant) , has been killed.
YOU ARE READING
Searching- A saga ✔
PoetryMany things that I've realized about this life... Many things that I've realized about myself... Many more about the society I live in... Much more about the world in general... But... Mainly about my world in particular... My world... FOR ONCE, NO...