love note

love is in the air
screamed the crackling voice
on the radio.
what she saw
through the haze of a swooshing wiper
was a veritable swarm of cars
frozen in a directionless chaos
and as the woman crooned
about monsoon’s first love
set to tune by revered geniuses
she drowned out
the screeching hopelessness
of a stranded ambulance
whose designated role now
was a strobe light
color coordinated
with that idea of love we cling to.

promises

to be young again.
to tear through memories
dust them off bookshelves
forget them on jostling metros
knowing there will be more.
youth came with
the promise of plenty.

and then one day
you find yourself
clutching to a torn sari
not entirely sure why
the weight of time
gathered around your waistline.
the dust of bookshelves
accumulated now in the bare crevices
of a mind full of things
with forgotten names.
the itinerary of old days
now rests in incomplete inventories.
and the promise of plenty
comes through
in ways memory cannot comprehend.