What?

I'm looking around - the dim CFL, the curtains, the telephone, the screen, the doors, the walls, the "pooja-ghar" with books and pictures of gods and "gangajal" , the dining table with the sauce bottle reading "Kissan" and the mangoes and the helmet in one corner and the cray bandage and the clock ticking time away and the frizzing fan ... everything... 

The books, the "lectures of physics by feynman" ... the Ivanov, Krotov, Belikov, Irodov, Potapov, Tursnov, The Krantz, the Hawkings, the David Deutch, the Numer Theory, the Fountainhead, the concepts of space science, the art of living, the Centre Fresh Book of Cricket Lists, the Fomin's the Chekov's plays, the short stories and the How to Solve it and the Beer & Johnson and the  Riddles in your teacup and the Cambridge Guide to Stars and Planets and the Patrrick Moore and the Maron, the Macbeth...... the FIITJEE, the FIITJEE and the FIITJEE!!!!

And the BLUE Bag ... which contains in it the GREY bag, which contains in it the BLUE bag which reads PEMIC, my most favorite one ... the bag retired now to a most important duty, to guard the materials and remnants of a love story and the aftermath...

The "Sid" pasted on the door in black with sprinkles of gold, the Dev ...... D ... written in purple on the yellow wall , the Smoking man with a beard in orange on the adjacent wall, the anatomic face on the back door, the unfinished concord on another wall .... the grey book shelf filled with books, kept on it the picture of the girl holding a flower and written under it "love understands and therefore waits" , the "Honorable Mentions" and the First Prizes ... and the Gold Medals and the Bronze one and the Consolation Prize and the folder of certificates, the purse with the money collected and spent over a lifetime Rs. 1040 , the scooter keys the folded blanket the bags the orange and the black one and the blue one, the passport, the question papers and more question papers the answered those left unanswered ... the book shelves, Gurudev, the guitar, the picks, the harmonium, the open register with an incomplete peom titled "Dorothea" .... the tennis racket and the covered table fan and the table light ..... and the "busy bee" cover ... 

A Mad man's love

The lazy teardrops fall,

From my swiftly blinking eyes,

I hear my restless heart beating,

Over my stammering sighs.

How could you love me then,

When you knew it was unfair,

When you would need me most,

I just might not be there.

I'm sorry for being my psychic-self,

My inability to understand,

You'll find more graceful lovers,

But how I wish I could hold your hand.

I do not deserve you - I know,

I realize I'm insane,

But I have this feeling I cannot express,

This... love perhaps I cannot explain.

I break into animal-like laughter,

As I remember that adorable smile on your face,

My weird childish mannerisms,

Could have never been a match for your grace.

I stare into your photograph,

Then press it to my heart,

As if protecting your thoughts,

I'll never let them depart.

Folding into myself, in a corner,

I cling on to your memories,

You're mine, when I close my eyes,

And here - we're together in peace.