Life Itself

It was a thought that just passed me by. It was a reason that suddenly caught my eye. It was a sensation that randomly startled me. It was a glance that one day jostled me. It was a hope that triggered me. It was honesty. It was gravity. It was insanity. It was desire. It was dreams. It was belief. It was lies. It was a disguise. It was deceit.

There was silence. There was hope. There was want.  There was desire. There was pleading. There was need. There was hurt. There was numbness. There was pain. There was blame. Then there was indifference.

Going round and round in endless circles. No end, no conclusion. Just constant eccentricity.  I have thought about full stops, but those are just too risky. So instead, I leave one more comma, one more trace of my stupidity and hope that you haven't judged me for it. Sometimes I feel like I don't even know what I really want. I get to a dead end and don't see why I walked all the way in the first place. Perhaps it is just momentum that takes me from one level to another. Perhaps it is as always about the chase. Perhaps I really do want this to work out. Perhaps this time too my paranoia will get the best of me.  Reminds me of one of my favorite songs..... Who can say where the road goes.......only time!

Earlier I wrote about places and feelings and this post is almost like a follow up to that one. Places and feelings do go together. Especially those of safety and security. Whilst one place can seem so unsafe and impossible to live in, just 15 mins away you can feel the most secure you ever have. And as always, it really is about the people. Cities by themselves are hollow caricatures, not too different from one another. Perhaps geographically and historically distinct, but history and geography don't bring you back to a place too often. What keeps you connected to any place is those that stay there.  Take for instance Ludhiana, a perfectly non remarkable town from the perspective of travel interest. Yet people like me feel a strange sense of completion and familiarity when they go there. Simply because there are people that matter that still stay there. Or then there are memories with other people that keep pulling us back. Once again I am amazed at how social man is. How in...

There's something about nostalgia that makes it so irresistible.  Today I was crossing an old familiar area and it brought back memories, so sweet and sour at the same time.  Interestingly I cross this area almost everyday but it only rarely evokes emotions from the past. Partly because I am too engaged with the present and partly because it is exhausting to deal with the past everyday. Each time I think of all that's gone by, I invest a little more of myself in things that don't exist anymore. Now don't get me wrong, I am not advocating moving away from the past. It would be very hypocritical if I did. I am the most nostalgic person I know. I draw my passion from all that's happened, I laugh at jokes from ten years ago and occasionally cry over things that happened fifteen years ago. I hold and never let go. Having said that, nostalgia is a guilty pleasure and I don't I let myself indulge in it everyday. Simply because I can't afford to. My life has...

There are two types of people in the world. Those that look at black and white as separate, concrete, simple colors. And then others that see them as grey. The latter see things from the perspective of what they could be. They are never satisfied with things at their face value. They interpret and reinterpret to such an extent that the original words don't even matter. To them, black and white are irrelevant. What matters is where black merges into white. Lately, I have been intrigued by the contrast between those that see things as they are and those that like to complicate and analyze even the most basic facts. In the words of someone I know, the first category of people is simple and direct. They don't perceive a grey. They don't feel the need to dwell deeper. They understand logic and require straight talk.  The second category is the diametric opposite. They will find a mystery where there is none, question for so long that the answer stops mattering, they will alw...

A lot of people ask me who I refer to in all my posts. They want to know if "you" have a name. They want me to describe you. They want me to put you in a box and label you. They want to be able to grasp everything I feel for you. They want to be able to understand you, define you, stereotype you. They want to put a face to my words. They want to make you small, tiny and tangible. They want to make you finite and complete.  But, what if...there is no you? What if you are stronger than their scope of comprehension and more omnipotent than their imagination? What if you exist, only as a figment in my parallel universe? What if you are colored in more shades than they have names for? What if you are too immense to capture in one single word?  What if, you are, who YOU think you are. 

We initiate strangely, you and I. We start, we stop. We push, we pull. We move with caution, you and I. We spring, we regress. We watch, we suggest. We hit reality, you and I. We recoil, we leap. We reconcile, we grieve. We move on, you and I. We laugh, we regret. We pretend, we forget.

Lately, I have gotten so used to posting everyday that the sudden gap on this blog has left me a little unhappy. And no, I haven't developed a writers bloc or suddenly found myself too busy. Rather, I have had too many thoughts on my mind. When my mind works at this speed, I cant slow down and put things down on paper. So on days like these, I just let myself be, ponder over and over, sulk a little, and then move to the next day.  How do you categorize things that are so far apart, so abstract and so complicated? How do you successfully preserve every thought, without losing the free spirit that guides it?  Since, I clearly don't know how, today I am just going to write about random things on my mind.  1) Premonition: This thought has been on my mind for a number of days now. A conversation with someone brought it up and I think about it pretty often. Is premonition possible? Can we really sense things before they can happen? Very often, I feel things that I believe ex...

It's always heart warming to meet someone who's been in the same space as you. Someone who understands what you are saying because he or she has experienced it first hand. But. Our brains are so easy to trick. All someone needs to do is talk about something that is even slightly important to us and we go crashing down hill. Sometimes I wonder how many people misuse this basic human need of belonging. We meet new people so often. How is one to know that they aren't just feeding on our weaknesses. How can one say for sure that the person you met yesterday is not using the information he has on you to manipulate you? Maybe it's naive to not ask these questions before giving parts of yourself to someone. Maybe it'd take a paranoid mind to even stumble upon such a thought.

I have always held one belief close to my heart. People can never be forgotten unless someone else comes and takes their place. It's near impossible to get over someone unless you get distracted by another human being.  Only question is - how easy are you to distract? With my short attention span, this come quite naturally to me. I can be totally hung over someone one day and completely over them the next.  What doesn't come naturally to me is actually staying in one monogamous space, without feeling the need to meet new people or have more refreshing experiences.  Maybe one of these days someone is going to come along with the ability to keep my attention. Someone who can effortlessly keep me focussed and engaged. That or, I'll just simmer and settle. 

I wonder about you  Sometimes I miss your poetry Sometimes I long to hear you  Sometimes I crave for completion Sometimes Only Sometimes

There are some things that only your mother knows about you. No matter how much anyone else may try, it's impossible to gain that depth of understanding that a mother has about her child.   I have always known this to be true. A few days back my mother said something that proved it all over again.   She pointed out the fact that I have crazy will power. That once I decide something, no one can change my mind.  My mothers favourite illustration involves my giving up thumb-sucking. I was one year old and my parents had tried nearly everything: putting spices on my finger, tying them with bandage, telling me a hundred stories. As you may imagine, they failed miserably. Then one day my father looked at me, pointed at my teeth and said "Zoya all your teeth will fall out!". I simply confirmed if he has being serious and needless to say, that was the last time I sucked my thumb. At this point of her story telling, my mother usually recounts her fear at how crazy my will powe...

He doesn't understand me I only hope that he does He doesn't comprehend my silence I only believe that he does He doesn't see me sparkle I only crave that he does He doesn't like me for who I am I only need that he does He doesn't belong with me I only pretend that he does.

Do you ever feel like you are having two simultaneous conversations with someone? One that is really being said and one that is almost said but kept away? Lately I struggle so much with double meanings that I myself don't know if I am listening at all or I am recreating everything. One moment I hear something you have not said and another moment you say something that brings me crashing down.  Strange as it may sound, I want to believe that we really are having two conversations. That each meaningless word means something. That each silence contains a million sentences. That you really are saying all those things that I "almost" hear.  Unfortunately I never know. After each goodbye I am left wondering. On most nights I settle the matter by reconciling my ability to imagine with my ability to be rational. But then there are nights like today when settlement isn't possible. Nights when imagination triumphs.

Make your move And wait patiently One of these days  You'll get your due Drop that hint And turn away One of these days It'll be comprehended Take every risk And then forget One of these days It'll be worthwhile.

I watch you  As you slowly mix  The bubble formula I watch you  As you delightedly Blow and smile I watch you  As your hopeful eyes See the bubble grow I watch you As the bubble gently  Blows my way And then  I watch you  As I slowly take my finger  And burst the bubble.

Do you sometimes feel like shaking someone and asking them for the truth?  Do you get up with the need to look someone in the eye and tell them how you feel? Do you for a moment lose your inhibition and decide to take that chance?  And then do you shut your child-like brain and get back to the humdrum of life? Or do you actually pick up the phone and make that call?

There is a strange sort of nostalgia that pulls me towards you again and again. Each time I say goodbye and think I have forgotten, memories come reminding.  Shards of yesterday A million dreams  Scattered and nameless  I always wonder if I made a mistake with you. And the little space of could-be leaves me annoyed and just a little unsure.  And as always I write about it and leave it like I see it, as a lingering-passing thought. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember a little lesser. Perhaps tomorrow I will finally let go.

As I walked with him and he told me a little bit of himself today, it hit me that humans treat parts of their history like sacred information. If I share part of me, I expect a part of you in return. However in most situations the sharing isn't equal. There's always a listener.  The fundamental need to connect with others makes us give up parts of ourselves. Sometimes embarrassing, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes life changing. Each time a story is told, a negotiation takes place. A silent testimony to the bond that exists between two people. So each time I tell you my story, know that I am letting go off my fear, because I want to trust you and I want you to be the person I think you are. And each time you tell me a story, I know you are entrusting a part of your life in me and I hope I can keep it safe. Today, go out, talk to a stranger and tell him your story. Or turn to that one friend and finally confide in him. Life's too short.. Take a chance with people, ev...

Roll the dice  Let's see who wins Play your bet Make the wheel spin.  Tell the first lie And I'll tell the next Move backwards Struggle and suppress.  Then when you are tired Stop and reflect Your pretense might be easier  But how will you forget?

I watched Guzaarish today - for free - but that's another story. What I need to blog about is the stupidity of the movie. Actually the stupidity extends far beyond the movie. I have never understood the plea for euthanasia and the idea of suicide (and yes from the perspective of this argument they fall under the same category). I get that you want to escape your current situation and I am no one to judge the extremity of your life. However the moment you decide to chose death instead I can't help but question your sanity.  So you are obviously at the end of hope, don't see any miracle changing whatever it is that you are running from. But, you still have hope enough to believe that death is actually less painful and perhaps better! You go ahead, hurt the few people that probably actually care for you, and for what? For a mere possibility that the after life is after all slightly better. Unlike others, I don't think you are cowardly, I think you are completely foolha...

Language. Cross out. Words. Cross out. Thoughts. Cross out. But how do I forget That silent  Intense Surreal Way I feel Around you?

There's a constant chatter somewhere in my head. No matter what I may be doing or how busy I may be, this one nagging thought continues to trouble me. I can't resolve it because resolutions often involve risk and that's not something I deal with very well. I have always liked to believe myself to be a risk taker. But lately it's occurred to me that I may take a risk but after so much deliberation that it doesn't remain risky anymore. I don't take risks, not unless I am pretty convinced of a positive outcome. I take little steps, testing the ground each time. I almost never take giant leaps. I have lived the paranoid life almost flawlessly. However on some days I get up asking myself just how much I may have lost on the way because I didn't take that risk when I could have. I know I'll never know for sure. It's that fear of never being able to know that stops me from taking a chance. But it's also the same fear that prods me and pushes me to...

Instinctive desire Animal sanity Human need No rationality Taking every risk Making every move And then  Regret Reckless desire Left uncontrolled Effortlessly moving  In opposite directions Pulled together Ripped apart Stupid emotions Brainless heart

Go and save yourself and take it out on me. If it makes you imagine Let's pretend you are in control If it makes you stronger Let's pretend I don't see through you If it protects you Let's pretend I don't see you need me If it makes you better Let's pretend you aren't just the same man If it helps Let's pretend.

I always knew that people and places go together. But what surprised me today was how places and feelings go together as well. It's strange that I can feel completely connected to someone and then in a different place, the same someone stops affecting me at all.  I have always been aware of my ability to connect and let go very quickly, but I never knew the power of my own will to forget and move on.  Perhaps my defenses are so protective that with even the slightest possibility of pain, I turn around and find something to distract me. Or maybe it's just the way I am programmed, to only care in situations where I am sure.  It is insanely powerful to be able to have such control. To love and never be lost. To give and always get in return. To forget but never be forgotten.

I realized today that it's possible to look forward to something without completely wanting it. To need but deny. To hope but forget. To believe but pretend. To hate but befriend. To stop but suggest. To hold but drift. To wish but fret. To love but regret.

Snap it breaks everything thats hidden everything thats safe suddenly screaming  talking out loud.  Poof  it leaves everything that mattered everything that stayed suddenly vanishing struggles in vane.  Flash  it regenerates everything that rotted everything that decayed suddenly  appearing  brightest in shade. 

I had the strangest dream last night. Suddenly out of no where, I stood up for myself and spoke out loud. I finally said what I should have years ago. I finally let go off all the pain and self destruction. For one moment, I became free. And then I got up.

What scares you the most? Is it knowing that you are alone or knowing that you are constantly being watched? Is it knowing that everything is nothing or knowing that everything could actually be something? Is it holding on too tight or letting go too quickly? Does it worry you that life is too short or that life may go on forever? Is it in knowing that you are most scared of or is it the unknown that cripples you? What scares you the most? For me, it's fear itself.

I love how the night-lights look, just lines of hope stretched across the city. They hide every crevice and create the illusion that everything is actually beautiful and perfect. They lie and pretend that every corner of the city is actually equal, that every human dwelling is the same. Before the night-lights, all the hunger, poverty, sadness, despair, illness and death are hidden and silent. It’s the night-lights that comfort me every night as I travel home, that cocoon me and protect me from the demons that cripple me with fear. They are like all the other lies and pretensions I feed myself. They create my less-threatening parallel universe. For tonight, these lights are my best friends. 

Stop In track Hold on Fear all you leave behind Turn Reconsider And then Move on Slow down And when he stops looking Run, run, run. There is always room for inspiration and then there is room for thoughtless thoughts, uncontrolled desire, passionate dreams and fearless living. There’s always room for more, always room to become someone else.

And I am leaving you like I always do Broken twice, left bright blue And I am forgetting every fight Burning the scars, leaving black behind And I am done with every promise Tearing every memory, red and cruel And I am moving to the next plane Charged thrice, purple orange hue And I am leaving  leaving, like I always do.

Everyday as I get up, what keeps me going? How do I stay motivated? I guess it’s partly routine, the moment I get stuck in rhythm it becomes easy to do it the same way everyday. At least for a while, I stay focused and enjoy the easy feeling of repetition. But then slowly my short attention span takes over and I need something else to keep me charged. As the office timings change, I suddenly feel a little lost. Not because the work I am doing has changed. Not even because I spend lesser time with people I care about, but because I have suddenly found more time for myself in the morning. I have been programmed to believe that the first half of the day is the most productive. Earlier I had no trouble wasting my time just lying around when I got home after office because I knew that I had spent a whole day constructively. There was no room for guilt. This has got me thinking about how simple it is to fool the human mind. My mind now thinks I have more time and I need to put it to c...

I have always known about my split-second attention. Before I fully think about something, a new idea crops up and poof goes my interest. One moment I am moving full speed, totally excited, and then I change direction and move another way, equally excited.  On most days, I have a good handle on my impulsiveness. I channelize it towards meaningless things like my need to talk to someone different everyday or to go to new places. But then there are days like today, when my stupid brain leads me from one idea to another. Before I figure one out, my brain has flitted to another. I never know when I'll get bored or just when too little becomes too much. I also don't know why it happens at the exact moment that the idea actually becomes logical and the initial anxiety has passed.  Perhaps its "the chase" that keeps me engaged. The need to learn more, to dwell deeper, to capture something and then once I fully own it, to finally let it go. Perhaps its the idea of complete...

Skip the introduction Move quickly to the next Ignore the contradiction Capture, don't suggest.  Hold onto my attention  React to every threat Mimic my imagination Offer, don't expect.  Recognize the transition Rush as you interpret Track each movement Watch, don't correct.  Sense the nearing end Lay down the last bet  Close with precision  Leave and forget. 

I grew up as an optimistic, confident, paranoid girl. I was paranoid about death, ghosts, men, accidents, thunderstorms, flights, new places, new people, snakes, insects, failure. I was scared of so many things that fear itself scared me. So I learnt to deal with it. I am twenty one, still paranoid, still confident. 

Lately a lot of people have asked me why I only post poetry on my blog. Each time I simply list out the advantages of ambiguity and abstraction. People always buy my argument.  But is that really it? Is abstraction really that important to me? Do I really need to hide behind vagueness? Also, isn't poetry specific enough to make me just as vulnerable? Perhaps it is. Then what is it that keeps me from posting my daily rants on this blog? Honestly, there is no real reason and laziness would qualify just as much as fear.  So today I am going to make an exception. I am going to write freely, without confining my thoughts to the structure of rhythm and meter. Today I am going to write just because writing makes me happy and releases the captive emotions that I so cleverly hide.  ______________________________________________________________ Love Poem As I sat there watching her rummage through her cupboard, find her things, throw them in a bag and walk out with my hand ...

You are a color on the horizon  sharp, diffused. You are a whisper in my silence heard, refused.  You are a shadow on the rearview cherished, used. You are a fraction of my deception mollycoddled, abused.

And then he turns to her… “Save me”, he says. [Is thunder enough to shake her? Or does she need the rain? She told him it’s all over, Then why did he turn again??] She looks at him, And asks herself “Why?” [Friends don’t kill each other Then why did she let him die?] Tears stream down Crying for him Crying for her Is there anyone to blame? Sorrow erases sorrow And pain soothes pain He holds her hand in his She firmly pulls it away. “It’s over”, she repeats, Loud and clear. Can relief be enough reason?? Can love sway? [Yes, she did love him deeply But it faded away.] He looks at her And weeps And with each drop Her soul: hardening This is the last goodbye. Her joy His grief [What grows together… Doesn’t always die in oneness… It’s a sad picture Sorrow begging, misery] She turns He turns Knowing so well They may never meet But in their hearts She knows He feels There is never a goodbye. Every tear they cry, Will heal.

In my mothers womb I heard a voice talk Unlike other infants And to my mothers wrath, It was my father sharing Many of his thoughts. One day about a prince The other day about some frogs But the best was only one The one told everyday About dolls and frocks. As I grew from womb to school He taught me how to dance How to spell my name How to walk Everything…. [Memory fades away] Then one night as I slept I heard him softly walk away I pretended to be asleep And he preferred it that way I guess he was scared Scared, I would blame. I never stopped him And he never stayed We slowly grew apart And things began to change I learned to live without him To dance my own way I even learned to write Though our style's grew astray Then one day 15 years from the last in womb I sent him a poem I wanted to know what he thought If he thought I could rhyme A year passed And no reply I gave up But continued to write. 4th of June: Today I opened ...

Furious thoughts unevenly spread Scribble, scribble quibble, quibble Addicted Dipped in ink Inspiration flowing Attended, passed. One idea, Then another instead. Using, abusing Ranting ahead Jotting, blotting Said, still unsaid Cross out Write again Frustrated, determined Driven, insane Crush the paper Throw away the pen Words knifed across the arm Hate inscribed and left to interpret Deed done Life lost A final word and at it, left

Suddenly they separate Falling like tears from a dream Drop by drop Touching me Wiping away ink from paper breaking and shaking word by word reaching out leaving me dishevelled With only memories tear by tear washing me

Frosted emotions   Kept unseen Latched in boxes Sewn in seams Voiceless feelings Hidden inside Knotted and crushed Put out of sight Bustling anger Jostling tears Curtains drawn Concealed fears Silenced guilt Empty screams Tearless hurt Broken dreams Almost said Then left alone Too scared to cry? So smile in stone.

Stifling within I want you to know It’s tearing me apart Beginning to show Hear the words I do not say Feel the things I can’t portray Chorus Grant me loved wings Let me soar Hear my heart Give it a cure See the tears I cried so long Silence covers All my sound And I look at you So calm, sincere Your eyes speak Why won’t you care? Chorus Hold me close Hear me say Love me now Don’t go away It kills me so Can’t keep this inside I love you Don’t want it to hide Chorus*2 (fade)

A brown tattered album Frayed by hands of the past Yellowed termite eaten pages Memories burned and aghast Old frayed thoughts Touching faces captured in pose Looking and feeling An era of long ago A smile etched on paper A tear cried and captured Wine, salt and emotions Left to enrapture Last threads that tie Today with yesterday Pictures in history Imprinted again in memory

Walking alone Solitude or loneliness? A slow merging reality Questioning destiny Heart or mind? Me or mine? No record left No way back Weighted passions Stabbing and belittleing Dreamer from somewhere Merchandising reality Giving up everything In search for an illusion

Two separate nations, divided by land and sea. Living in different time-zones, far away: you, and me. Yet, love cuts through distance, feelings travel over miles hearts beat together sending love, across time. Relying on instinctive trust Moving with unsure-surety. Born worlds apart, hoping, someday, to meet. Growing closer: unshaken, forsaken: reality, there, for a moment, we forget. And almost touch caught in bliss, in mockery. And then again, we remember: you, I and the miles in-between.

Rock-cut intricately woven in a gold chain A diamond heart lost and estranged Another: A scented letter agelessly written worded in loving pain Picture of togetherness those sad-happy days of deceitful romance casting loves embrace Once again I stumble on memories diamonds and letters lovers, loved and gone cared, hurt and withdrawn, leaving treasures to remind. A teardrop and it’s over cutting across ages sifting through time smile for those thoughts for pain, sublime.

Fragile, beautiful, complete venomous beauty she looks like him she frowns like him. Even that smile striking grace. Tightly held, treasured for sure. Bundled in assurance cuddled in security in hands that walked me, giving her borrowed love I look at the man she’s with A loving glance, Not returned. His eyes are mine, yet the love is hers. There must be a reason for her to take my place ruin the memory Scar the face He still loves me. Ludicrous painting My father fathering her.

A quiet peaceful woman Rosary clutched tightly Clad in white Thick rimmed glasses Toothless smile Young minds cross her Everyday No one stops Shouting, questioning, They walk away. Small mercy: she’s deaf She sits by the window Looking outside Seeing a world That’s left her behind She gets up happy To be beaten and unfed Left in the hands of selfish regret Small mercy: she forgets. She stares at today But faces yesterday Her face is hopeful Her emotions: inept She looks at her world Fragrances of flowers Beauty and smiles. Small mercy: she’s immobile. An enchanting woman In a disheveled body: Broken legs Deaf ears Chained in Alzheimer’s. Small mercy: her heart is fed Her soul is complete Her dreams are covered Her thoughts in-shield

It was unsaid He was gone [Last night he was here And things seemed alright But happiness doesn’t last It vanished with the night] She cried They cried not together Each to his own [ He was the man of the house And now they felt unprotected, Forlorn] She was crossing by their room And heard a muffled cry It broke her heart But she only sighed [Personal pain Weighs far more] Walked past the door Walked past her child Guilt glistened in her eyes Nothing more to say [Thought: he was selfish Leaving them alone] It breaks her heart He just comes and goes Just when they move on The past knocks at their door [it a sad painting together yet lonesome] Last night He came on impulse Took them to dinner Leaving her at home [She brings them up He takes them away The pain is hers The pleasure all his] She glances at her driveway Sees him walking away And he looks back His tear stricken face [Both with tears Weeping all alone] ...

Eyes that look not at, but through E ars that hear their own silent voices Words that speak and caress only the speaker Minds that dream shallow thoughts of selfish destruction Lonely crowd each to his own living his death

I wrote a promise and sealed it with dew perfumed it with love and blew it to you I captured a dream treasured in memory I sent you the thought, and set it free I whispered a prayer And silently craved for serenity and peace then gave you my fate I carved a sculpture hands steady and true molding till perfection then saw it grow into you. I painted my masterpiece of a late night beach You were there Just a little out of reach. I kept looking for gifts and searching for things to do but there is no price to give that can bring me you. I closed my eyes dissapointment and tears I felt a touch and saw, YOU, wiping my fears.

Shut the window what you see is not today. Those dreams, those sounds, belong to yesterdays. Draw the curtain, conceal your fear, obstruct your thoughts, pretend not to hear. That kiss, that smell that cushioned embrace, block those eyes constrict the space. Kill your senses, dont let them feel. Murder the desire, let wounds heal. Ease your past, soothe your grief, sense the closure, bow and leave.

Wet lips quivered and said, “I’ll forget, you’ll forget.” Words left to resound in their heads. She turns He turns Knowing so well, they may never meet. A last glimpse their love, past tense. _________________________________ That was months ago. Today again, she sits and writes, but instead of words memories creep inside. The smile that was his the magic in the kiss the power of his hold the songs that were told the endless surprise the language in his eyes This time her poem is complete, words unsaid, on a tear-lined sheet. She whispers, hoping for him to hear, “I said I would forget but here I stand, drowned in memory. I said you would forget but here I stand askance, do you remember?”

I tip-toe down the stairs, trying hard to remain silent. Like every Friday, the house is enveloped in a wisp of chocolate air. I slide into the kitchen, she's standing near the sink. Hair smudged in flour, hands covered in sugar, busily mixing ingredients. I kiss her cheek without expectations. I tell her I am leaving, pick up my bag, and hurriedly say goodbye. I sit in my bus and close my eyes. I recollect Fridays gone by and each has only one thing in common, Chocolate. It's been twenty years now since her first chocolate. She was baking for him, with very little time, she cooked in her red chiffon dress. Even today she sits by the window chocolate by her side waiting for a man, long gone. and like her first mourning the chocolate is thrown away, uneaten.