my own love song

vermillion washed sky
bidding adieu…
bewildered void
your incidence in my days
un composed music drifts on
this wasteland… home
for a while
middle of no where
summoning joy
for a while
the shades of ink blue
fill the vision
sometimes you invent
sometimes, just vent...

Sleep, I would
If you bless my dreams
Laugh, I would
If you exalt my whispers

Smuggled you in my reverie
Salsa steps…Cinderella ball
Rustling silk
Fragrant breaths… Frayed feel

And the midnight never strikes…

Copyright © Neerja Yadav


He grew up with it. It used to scare him, scare the living daylights… he wanted to be able to go out and play, but he dared not… He looked, talked and slept, normal; and as clich├ęd as it sounds, looks ARE deceptive; he was not normal! And, ma never told him that?? He was quite an upset figure, cross with himself, cross with ma, for keeping such an important (maybe, a little special??) fact from him! He had to discover it, accidentally.

Oh, he was so mistaken, ma didn’t know it herself. He tried asking her first and then telling her about it. Ah, all in vain… everything was put down as the resultant talks of functions of his 10 year old hyper active brains.

And, a perfectly normal brat turned a lonely child overnight. He did not have a name for it. But, he was careful of what crossed his brains. Careful!! Very careful! Fighting a battle with his, own mind. An idea crossed his mind and the abstracts were no more abstracts. Crystallizing, right before his eyes.

Miracles, if constant, become a habit. And, things which mutate in habits become so much a part of you, that, eventually, they are woven in the tapestry of your personality. You are no more conscious of them. You are no more conscious even of the efforts that you put in hiding these habits from every one else… Practice, is the road to perfection! And, mind is just so good at adapting and taking everything, miracles included, in it's stride!

So, he grew up with it. Crossing the bridge, from fear of unknown, to a friendly base. He arranged things, cleaned his room and amused himself by juggling knick knacks in air… all without lifting a finger. And, he knew he could not go out and play basketball. He so very wanted to do it.

Slowly, he discovered the power; and slowly he discovered the steam of this power… volatile enough to be lethal… it almost did!

With discoveries, came an understanding that, it is HIS mind, he HAS to control it; for, a tool cannot control the engineer, a brush cannot control the painter. A 15 year old understanding!

Tell a girl, that a guy is absolutely useless for her… and yep, most definitely… the guy becomes a god, thoroughly irresistible!! The eternal romantic, that, this gender is…

He looked every bit, straight out of some old forgotten Mills n Boons paperback… tall, lanky, loner, thick lashed eyes behind the specs… well carved lips gleaming in crooked smile...the smile which was so sparse, that when it suddenly did play on…. I had my heart doing a jig… the heart which I, so unconsciously and unpretentiously wore on my sleeves. 

He was very handsome and he didn’t know it. Non conformist, unconventional…

My schooling in, rock/alternative music, my education of bike rides, late night discussions and all things sneered upon, in this so called practical “get-a-MBA-so-you-land-a-cream-job” world; and so much more, so much of which held all the fascination of being deeper in meaning… I owe all this to him.

The sane called him delusional. And, much to the consternation of these “sane” ones; he had impeccable taste in life – in things that mattered.

I was taken in by the quietly simmering fire, the liquid of the eyes… and the honey of the voice… deep baritone… I loved it, all. He was a drop out, wasn’t actually doing anything “substantial” to get anywhere in life, he lived on his own terms… selfish and yet so selfless, a misfit…he was all so wrong. In his words, he was a “just an artist”. And, I loved it all.

I was a misfit, in my own way… alternating between being a wallflower and a blunt tongue… depending on my mood and the crowd ... not only those around me, but me myself have always had a tough time… slotting myself.

My only aim in life was… well, I didn’t know… what I wanted, not then… Was living each day, as it came by… had stepped out of the protective confines of a small town middle class family; and I was already surrounded by suave classmates with either a work experience or an engineering college/hostel know how on their resume; before I could make sense of what hit me. It was at best a rollercoaster ride, which I didn’t know, how to handle. I made some little mistakes, trying to fit myself and ended up being scalded. I did not make any moves, trying to keep myself away and ended up getting third degree burns. What is being dished out to you in the name of life is quite funny.

Ours was a relationship, not by default but by design… a mixed, confused, un named, relationship… with an acute fondness turning to an acute attraction. I believe, there’s always that element of chemistry at work, when one talks of mars and venus, even if it is a pure platonic, fun thing… we do first react, to the gender, and, then the person… somewhere deep inside, we do know, that we like the person, as a man or a woman.


She wasn’t a conventional beauty. And yet, there was something extremely magnetic about her. She entered a room and people had to take notice of her; and yet, no one could pin down any particular attribute, feature. People couldn’t slot her and she was so unsure of herself, it just doubled up her attractiveness. It just so drove everyone nuts. People hated her, because they could not understand the intensity she was and she evoked. And, she definitely was on innumerable wishlist. A surprise!

He did notice her and that’s that. And, then he noticed her eyes. And, that’s that! She politely, formally said “hi” and walked off. Ages passed. And, things went on like they do; and unlike the movies, nothing really happened. No sparks. No songs. No coincidental meetings. And, he being what he was… He was anyways, laced in his own thoughts. However, he was very conscious of her presence or absence. Along the way, he saw her growing from taciturn girl to life of the party. However, her eyes, were still the same. Same loneliness! And, the increasing depth!

And, slowly, by default, they became acquainted… and rest just happened. He was careful not to will his ideas, his thoughts, when it came to her…

Not all stories end with “ever after”…

So, it happened… he could no longer keep himself from willing and wishing and making things happen for her, for himself… for his version of “us”.

And, there ensued a battle of wills… One thing, she was absolutely averse to, being controlled, deeds or thoughts.

As for him, he was oblivious of there being any other mind equaling his let alone, more powerful than his.

The battle became war. He would click her pictures and she could not believe it was her, the picture looked ethereal. He painted her. He created things for her. Everything had a magical hue. And, she saw right through all of it. The spontaneity and the instinct were fast loosing ground. It was all for a benefit. So??

So, this wasn’t any different from hordes of other stories. It was fast becoming a game of manipulations.

The more he wanted her all wrapped up only for himself… only because, she was the only one who knew and understood things, without being told. And, he could give her the world. So, what was wrong with her?

More, she grew distant. She was like the air, which bottled up, became stale… even if you perfumed it with the Chanel 5! She didn’t need the world. She needed to live “the world”, together.

He had lived only with his mind forever. Locked up.
She had lived free in herself. Locked in the world.

The caress became lethal. The love became fatal.
The art was getting to be all too self destructive.

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

the eternal game but am not interested

No Arc) Lights! (No Moving) Camera! Action! 
A new girl in the group, introduced to everyone, after a round of “hellos”; it would invariably be that, one of them would seem a little more interested in the girl.

And, there is a whole library on the “opening”/”pickup” lines… and the oldest in there is picked up…

“you like coffee?”,( and this is in a pub/bar)
“yea.. well…” (dude, this is a bar… and well, that’s not novel anymore)
“ wanna meet up for coffee later??”
“umm… later? We’ll see… thanks!”

This (being a way of saying, “thanks, no thanks!”) should have been a polite but effective deterrent. But, Ladies and Gentlemen, we are human beings and we come in all shapes/sizes/mindsets/values/… and worth mentioning personal rules for the game…so, my polite no, might be your “she-is-asking-for-more-asking-and-attention” rule…

Time to take farewells…

“hey guys, nice meeting you…see ya around, bye”
“umm.. .i would walk you down”

And since you want to get away, quickly, because:

-the DJ is not what you like
-the crowd is not what you prefer
-the drinks are lousy
-you just wanna get back home

You neither say yes or no to that… so you hurry down to your car…

“hey, you didn’t say anything about the coffee…”
“oh, that?... ya, we’ll see…”
“but you don’t even have my number…”
“oh that’s cool… good night!”

Ah… riddance! And, let’s just be very clear here that, its got nothing to do with the guy being un smart, not a looker, or any of those metrics values… You are just not interested. Simple. How difficult is it to take the cue? Understand?

But, you know what, making the top of the list in “ironies of human societal setup” is:

If it’s Simple and Straight, its not right! It HAS to have a hidden agenda! Its not possible to be that plain, there has to be a cunning, a game plan, a motive!!

Preposterous! Hilarious! Or maybe not, as we need to stop and take the long overdue look at this mindset. Why do we fear/not believe, if something “threatens” to be plain and basic? Why are we looking for complexities? Why are we always on the watch out? Because, we have been conditioned so. Because, we have been taught and we have witnessed, the manipulations, the lies, the cheatings, the one-upmanship play and also the unglamorous, no shine on being simple. So, the race of being snazzy and complex. It’s a fad, Ladies and Gentlemen. And, there could be another library on this entire subject, discussions, debates…

Nonetheless, the story, hitherto…

calls (through the common friend), SMSes, invites to various outings and so on…
all turned down… no time, darlings!

And it turns out, that some two weeks later, after dodging the umpteen attempts to get in touch and have a go at having a fling, I find myself at a friend’s place… cooking in the same kitchen!!

“OOooo!!” the cry goes, “that’s meant to be! its destined!” … and all those expressions that flow profusely at things like this… ah anyways, so I escape, unclaimed, unmatched and un harmed!

Umm, do I have issues with relationships/flings/”friendships”?? or am I “still undercover” … umm… gay???

The Garfield in me goes … HUH??

But Me, takes it with a flick of hair and no raised eyebrows;

No, sweetheart, am not interested! Would that be so difficult to understand? And, am not turning YOU down… and am not being standoffish, because I do not believe in offensives…unless, absolutely required!

And, this still is taken according to the “personal rules” : maybe she is needs extra attention.

Once again, after about another three weeks of repetitive steps of the game (the one which I am not even interested in watching… let alone play)… we “bump” into each other…and the very first opportunity finds me, subjected to:
my virtues, and how I am soo different and better than all the other girls, and how I am just perfect…and how these meetings are so very destiny’s design… and if I ever want to relocate to “the place where he earns his living”… etc etc…

Have I ever been flattered so much, any time before? And have I ever had the good fortune to be liked by someone so much?

Oh, lots of times!! Infact, every single time, this happens!!! So, why dont i ever be enamoured? charmed? Is there something wrong with me? Nothing. And, am sure, there are hordes of us (gender irrespective), who know, what I am saying!

And it went on for sometime… and the last I heard was, the man, in question is back from the airport, from where, he was headed to his place of business

A few pointed reflections:

Why? Why, just because the chasing game is the standard rule, everyone should be playing it and by it? Even when, am out of the race/game?

These are, as far as I understand, are accessories of growing up. An extra/co curricular activities of high school and college campus. So, how come, “so called” worldly wise individuals still hang to these accessories? For, I believe, that it always takes TWO to get a spark!!

And, why do we HAVE to let known our “engaged” status to keep such perseverance at bay? I mean, why cant you not be attached and not be gay and still not be interested in someone?

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

moon dust

From the dewy realms

Murmurs of night –
Terraced fields
Babbling sky
Humming lamps
Sounds of pleasure and pain

Warmth of the room, wakes up
Drifts down…
Spreads on
the elm lined walkways
The beige moon hangs low
Symbol of glee or woe…
The ebbs and flows of, his mood
Throbs like dynamo…
As effervescent
As mine…
Silly him,
Silly me…

The "Hermione" in me
Conjures castle,
Turns time…
Walked through the plane
Of angels and the dark ones
Avert my gaze
Unwilling to explain the presence

the fire crackles
back from the waves
enshrouded in clouds
the “now” silver orb
is tucking himself up

and while I was away
scattered a few verses
on my floor…

picked ‘em up
a stifle a yawn

the winged ones rouse
reverberation of rhymes
sieving in my early morning…

Morning, Earth!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav


the season, the life
now so elegiac...
carved on for you

strung myself into
a poem
a melody
composed for you

go on,
hum me...

my heart's rhythm
unnamed melonchly
an inspiration for you
go on
pen another poetry

those words
in your hand
seeped in your love

those which i had by heart

longer than the ages, days
longer than the times, nights
the lonely evenings wake up,
deserted lanes
stand at the door
with a forsaken look

the crow flies over
does not alight at my yard

dampness refuses to ignite
tired of breathing life
trying to incinerate
the darkness

tired of...

waiting for a word from you

Copyright © Neerja Yadav