I am quite an expert at one sided love.

(Ask Srijan)

But once that infatuation ends.

we are left with bitterness.
My poem is about fighting this.
My poem is about Meera.
A sixteenth century princess who turned her back on the world to worship the God Krishna.
He was the ultimate Ideal.
Completely in love with him- she lived and died praying at his temple.

One of the times I fell in love

I saw Meera
Beneath the intellect, ambition and the universe of opportunity in possession of this girl I knew.
Meera existed
Pining for the unattainable her- poetry was prayer.
I fell in love with her unconditionally
Maybe not as much as she loved Krishna
But I was too much in love to bother compare
In the end though- she did not really care
She would only ever want to be with krishna.

If krishna could only see her like I do

When she sings
The very birds would stay silent for her notes to float on the air undisturbed.
Mhara re giridhar gopal
I wanted to marry her, make love to her, make a house and family with her
But I couldn’t
Because she loved me- and she didn’t
Meera, could only ever desire Krishna.
I could not be with someone intent on finding something so Ideal inside her that she had to shut out all
else, I could not be with a poetess that makes poems about only one thing
desiring, yearning for that one being
And I was not that being, I was not a God,
I was nowhere close to a God
And so I could not be with Meera
Meera the seeker, Meera the dasi
Meera the utterly devoted hari ke darshan ki pyaasi
I was nowhere close to the God she wanted
He had such a big advantage over me
He took clothes from the Gopis and they pleaded to him to give them back, to clothe their souls.
Could I ever be the redemption of anyone’s soul?
Could I ever be a God?

(flip mood)

Because nothing less than becoming a God could help me cope with the fact that you don’t love me
Meera
Everywhere I turned- you were there
I was a mindfuck waiting to happen the next time you spoke to me
I fell to drink, got weighed down by depression
Dreams turned to nightmares
And the parts of me that loved you infected the rest
Killing me slowly Rotting every day
I had to burn it away

So I gathered dry wood, made a pyre, poured kerosene over it, struck a match and jumped right in.

I Burned- in pain,

But the sadness that comes with the sense of loss- is a great anesthetic
It numbed everything that I did to tear your feelings out
It numbed the pain when I tore off your memories like ripping a bandage from flesh
It numbed the fear from my nightmares and the scorching heat of the hot showers I took,
It numbed the pangs I had each time I ignored your messages.
And also the pain as I open up my contacts list scrolled down to your number, and saw the delete option
which I could press to never-

It is possible to become a God you know.

Almost.
It is possible to be free from nightmares
To be free from what ties you down
It is possible to lose everything- and move on.
It is possible to meet people and talk to them and when I see myself going down that road of self-
annihilation,
I can stop, breathe and walk away.
It is possible to laugh, to be so balanced that you can look at life and smile.
It is after all- just a poem to be written.

It is even possible to be smitten by someone, fall in love head over heels with all the feels that were
there the first time it happened
But still have my head on my shoulders.

It is possible to be the God I was meant to become.

I am not the Krishna you worship- never will be.
I know that
I am at peace with that fact.

I still see you- because the prayers you recite- and the poems you write- reach me.
The friendship that was always there is more prominent now- promising even.
And you know- I am still up for it.
I am still here- rooting for you.

Some numbers cannot be deleted.

I see you- I am just not tempted.
It is like
Watching a mountain-
Without the desire to scale it
It is like
looking out to the ocean-
And have no inclination to set out to sea

Meera- I am free
Even if you are there Praying At temples not built for me
even if you walk by my house Where the person I love, lives with me

Does an ocean have a purpose, meera?

Or a mountain for that matter?
Their magnificence makes meaning inherent to them.
As you walk by my house- I see that in you now
The monumentality of your love is a mountain
The vastness of your soul is the ocean

I hope you come into my house as you walk by and then visit often
It is small but filled with love for the people who care to enter.
And no one will get cramped for space.
Don’t worry, there is plenty of room
Even for an ocean as vast as you
Visit me- I am there for you.

And yeah- I make amazing chaai.