high tide का तीखापन

Dark Clouds.
और हलकी हलकी बारिश.
तेज हवा में उड़ते तुम्हारे sea-green earrings.
दूर क्षितिज पर जलता RBS का signboard.
और पास, तुम्हारी साँसों की गहमागहमी,
चढ़ी हुई भंवें,
आँखों का काजल,
नाक की नथनी,
होठों का आकर्षण,
लहराता stole,
पीला कुरता,
नीली जींस,
गीली कोल्हापुरी.
और रिश्ते की गहराई को मापने के लिए, चुम्बन का तीखापन.
High tide में तुम मेरे इतने करीब आ जाती हो.
तुम मुझसे इतनी दूर क्यूं हो?
*रिश्ते की गहराई को मापने के लिए, चुम्बन का तीखापन – ये पंक्ति धरमवीर भारती कृत गुनाहों का देवता से ली गयी है

Holding Hands

“Which is your favourite place in Bombay,” she asked, on a rainy evening as we walked on the Marine Drive.
“My room in the one room kitchen I live in,” I replied.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because the best things that I do happen there,” I explained.
“So lets go there,” she said, holding my hand for the first time.

A funny feeling

Dark clouds.
The red gulmohar in all its glory.
A gust of wind.
Her umbrella blows away.
Getting wet in the rain.
Walking on the marine drive.
Not holding hands.
A funny feeling.
Am I back to where I belong?

My waist size is proof to that…

Abdominal obesity is the worst form of obesity, a doctor friend told me over the weekend.
Morning walks are the only solution, she added.
The alarm rings.
I turn it off.
Laziness can be more addictive than women.
My waist size is proof to that…