New ( Jen's Song)

Image - James Carroll Woman with_Guitar

New ( Jen's Song)

By Gaurav Parab 

So, what's it going to be

This time

Just a release?

Just the way

The light bounced off

Her eyes ? or

the way her lips curled

or kept straight

The way she reminded you

 of that someone?

Who reminded you

of that someone else

Or the words

The words are always

where you are found
Always

Or was it just _?

Or something significant

Like the scent
 of her scent

or the pearls
 she did not wear

Now love,
it does not make it right
if it was

something else

But at least I hope

It was something worth

....well something worthwhile

Like the way

Your name 

rolled off her tongue

Like the way

Her eyes closed

When she sang

Only for you

Hope it was

Not  another cliche

I just pray this time 

Your reason

for being you

Your reason for her

Was something new

Rustom and the Last Storyteller of Almora by Gaurav Parab [Hachette] was listed by the Times of India and Business Standard as one of 5 weekend reads , The Hindu calls it a Genre bender, The Statesman ‘An Almost Perfect Debut, The Lucknow tribune calls it a debut to remember, The Pioneer calls it Cinematic, The Vistara Air inflight magazine a Good Book on the Shelf, the Sakaal times says its ‘sheer brilliance in storytelling’ while the Bangalore Mirror calls it an unforgettable story. It is available in leading bookstores and online here

Bed of Roses, Or Some Flower

By Gaurav Parab 

Image from Wikimedia Commons

He slithers into another bed of roses

Or some flower he does not care for

Like a catchy song someone composes

Out of a need to move on and ignore

Or a beautiful painting someone sketches

Only to wrap it safe inside a drawer

We are all going to die one day

She says something of that sort

And whispers this is okay.

He rolls his eyes, Great. An intellectual escort

But then he grins like a child’s essay

That went a word too far

What about him, what about her

Are words that neither say

Souls, promises, lace and fake animal fur

Lie on the floor thrown away

Desperate to remove who they were

If only for three quarters of a day

He does not say much, never had

She stares ahead and stares beyond

Another boy trying hard to be bad

One of them brunettes acting blonde

She smiles at her joke and what she had

He smiles back to politely respond

They return when all is done and done

Nothing much was said anyways

To lives which are but episodes rerun

Away from a man’s silence and a woman’s okays

Back to souls, promises, daughters and sons

Back to beds of roses,

Or some flower.

Five Days and a Thousand Nights

By Gaurav Parab

Image source wikimedia commons

Been a while

Since his mind put together words

To make them rhyme

With style

But there are times

In the present

When the past comes back

Like a pesky rhyme

Like a boomerang

Or a snake that coils and then

Uncoils to spit out

Words never sang

Like venom

That gives life

Or the waves of a sea

That steal your slippers away

The fire in her sighs

The bridges they built

And how the bridges burned

Collapsing like her closing eyes

How they burned like the last rites

And how they smiled at the people

In the streets below

For Five Days and a thousand nights

How can a man live through?

Five days

Yet remember a thousand nights

Doesn’t add up, does it for you?

Including the night of the pink stole

That a woman wore

And a man with a red bandana

And words that explained her soul

Every picture he never drew

Every song she sang

For someone else

Every damn woman he knew

And he still does the maths

It still adds up to five days

And strangely, a thousand nights

Like journeys on invisible paths

The women walking

The barren waste of his mind

With every sip he remembers

Their words of praise, and of mocking

But the one he got away from

That voice that makes every sip

One to forget, One to remember

How can a woman make

Five days into a thousand nights?

Martyr

By Gaurav Parab

Image courtesy: Wikimedia Commons 

Three is a charm

She was told

The counter will tick over

And then she no longer be cold

And so she made love

Puppy love

True love

And forbidden love

She waited

Like she was told

For the magic to kick in

A lie had been sold.


Subscribe to Gaurav Parab 

The One That Got Away

By Gaurav Parab 

She doesn’t miss his shivering hands

Running through freshly washed strands

Of her hair, and tears and those memories made

Bodies bonded while hearts betrayed

Peace at last, peace at last

Judging the future once forecast

It’s not as bad as yesterday

Even his face is blurred like overdone clay

No time to spare for his fake plastic soul

Just an one trick pony out of control

There is not much to miss him for today

He is just judgment briefly gone astray

Yet, there is a yet in her mind

As time and heart gets reassigned

She imagines a moment years from today

When everyone is older and everyone is gray

He is looking out of a window painted white

A pen to his left, a whisky to his right

Looking back on his time on earth

Of all the hearts he broke since his birth

Oh she sees that day, she prays for that day

When he thinks of her as the one that got away

Join me on Facebook and Subscribe to this blog

Smells Like Bombay

By Gaurav Parab

Traces of open doors and danger

A snick of the unfulfilled

A situation that escaped away

The girl smells like Bombay

Restless war finds peace

Joy makes love to disease

And then white decays to grey

The girl smells like Bombay

One eye guilty, one accuses

And the Ying Yang refuses

To own the look gone astray

The girl smells like Bombay

The wasted years in her words

Stones being killed by angry birds

Monsoon laden July and May

The girl smells like Bombay

The delightful body dying to be held

And pride being mercifully feld

Green fairies fighting demons for right of way

The girl, she smells of Bombay.

 Subscribe to this blog

You may also like Absinthe

Once

Image Source Wikimedia Commons


By Gaurav Parab

You were not a mistake

Or a piece of cake

Imagine this

A heart of tin

Collapsin

Every day, in my ribs

And it was love

There, you heard it

I said it.

You were not a mistake

And even if I said it

It was for you to think

I am a piece of shit

And make it easy

It hasn’t been easy for me too

If that counts

You need to know

Before I exit

You were pure love

And I was purely an idea

For you

A man child then

A child man now

Yesterday’s gone

Today  I am in love

With her
I always will be

And every song you sing

I heard it. I heard it.

And, from my playlist I deleted it

So you could think I was shit

Do you know what it feels like?

To have no song in your life?

And I am sorry

But is it my fault?

There are things

I did not tell her

There are things I did not tell you

There are things

I did not tell myself

I don’t ask you to feel sorry for me

I am cold. Like I said.
So many times. And yes I lied

I am not cold. I am just dead

On a slab

And the folks from the city

Are on their way

They send a reporter

Her name, floats on the waves

I was no angel

I was no black magic

I am not sick

I don’t deserve love

But don’t let

The very idea of me

Stop you being free

That’s all I say

Hold me like a tin

Every second collapsin..

Hollow and noisy

Then keep it away

But not in disgust

With a smile

Like you always have

You were a class apart

And that’s why

You happened

There I go again

A snob. I slap my head.

And that’s why

We happened

Maybe I am bad

But then, when I say it

People say he is faking it

But we were good

And you were four letters

Love. That's what you were

There I said it

The right letters

Not Drug. Like the one

Maria peddles on the beach.

No, you were more than love

You were, my friend

You are my friend

Even if you think

I am not yours
For I still
Dream about you
And write for you

And Marketa

Like from that movie Once

I never told you

It was not only her

It was not only love

It was death

And there were shadows

And so I smiled my way through

Like the only way I knew

And I am all right now

But I will never forget you

From Once

But forgive me

I have to go

To the sea

-

From That Man in the Picture By Gaurav Parab

Rabid

By Gaurav Parab

Image Wikimedia Commons

I read for I like

To read

About heartbreak

And disease

And I feel

Thirsty

Something to do

With the nerves

You taste like

Wine gone bad

You smell like

Death

And your bite

Is Rabid

You went straight

Through my nerves

To my head

While the others melt

You

You threw yourself

Hard like a doll

Against me

And I can’t breathe

Fever

Thirst

And excitement

You are rabid

And now

So am I

Myra's Essence

Image Source Wikimedia Commons


By Gaurav Parab

You held on

Like you wanted to make the boy

A part of your flesh

Juvenile lines

And nothings moaned

Like interest loaned

A back arched

Like it was a bridge

To where I hid

You demanded I write

To reduce you to twenty four lines

Nothing rhymes with Myra

Nothing does

And you thought

I was afraid to say your name

I wrote your name on paper

And smelt it to remember

How you smelt

You smelt like….well

Remember that Kid Rock song you sang?

Here Myra

Here’s your essence

Reduced to

Twenty four lines

You sold your soul

For twenty four lines on paper? 

Subscribe to the blog

Absinthe

Image Courtsey: Wikimedia Commons

By Gaurav Parab

No surprise that you stand in front of me

Green smoke floating across your face

The notches on my table read one, two, and three

And I forget what I drew them for

The times you touched my heart

The times you said it was over

Or maybe one notch for every false start

I forget what day it is today

Three times the idiot played our song?

In this empty lounge somewhere

Before you floated along

And the emptiness gasps for breath

One notch for every girl

Or one for every dozen

The smoke ready to swirl

We long stopped keeping count

Tears swell in my eyes

Yet ,I could not be happier

One day I will die a bitter man

Till then, I draw another notch

Far away this sip takes me

To places that quickly fade away

Love, lust and four notches on a table

Absinthe, I am done for the day

Subscribe to this blog, or join the Facebook page

The Standing Car of the Running Man

By Gaurav Parab

Image Copyright: Lesser Ury

See you at the tree where good don’t come near

The almanac screamed I was still in that dangerous year

The one in which the gypsy woman claimed I will be dead

But under the shade we’ll be ourselves, you wickedly said.

It was a dangerous time. But a moment I dare not walk by

I saw the joke when I reached the tree, under a burnt out sky

Was this another moment I am destined to collect?

I knew why they kept away; the good in me felt the effect.

I waited. The whisky swirled with the time

I looked at the dashboard. That cheap digital watch chimed.

Outside the car, the dark clouds huddled to meet

I waved at the blind man cursing in the heat

It seemed as if he may never leave

He looked at me. My friend, complexity can be so naive.

That blind man who patiently waited there

Then even he looked away at some place in despair

I kept the car engine running, like a movie I had once seen

It had eager guns that clung on to hesitant jeans

The slow beat of drums got closer with every second.

An entire village followed you, as you appeared around the bend

Temptation prevailed, and one finger finally gave in

A shot rang out. Burning your name across my skin.

You jumped in the car, and screamed drive as fast as you can

I looked at you, welcome to the standing car of the running man

The car was old, but the wheels surprisingly held their nerve

But I saw them smiling. Like I got what I deserved.

As the mob disappeared in the rearview mirror

The flash of steel in your hand made things clearer.

Come to the tree whispered faces when I dreamed

This is your year, a group of gypsies screamed

Run away, the smiling blind man appeared

The flash of steel and my mind cleared.

Happy New Year Everyone! Go get your dreams this year.

Between Exit and Debut

Image Copyright Matheus Siqueira

By Gaurav Parab

A moment before:

Light overtakes sound

A body hits the ground

Before the lips first meet

Or a puzzle is complete

Just before an idea gets born

Or skin meets thorn

The bell poised to ring

Before snapping strings

Dark tunnels killed by a flame

Remembering an old friend’s name

Before thoughts meet words

Flight tempts sitting birds

Before making up your mind

Or crude gets refined

Thick arising from fine

Inch before the line

Before a tongue gets high

The eyes before a lie

Two swords meet

Cold embraces heat

The joy of anticipation in a moment

Before everything

A moment after:

A body hits the ground

Tangent leave a round

That hand in a jar

The last drunk leaving a bar

A string is tuned

Or a party is ruined

An idea gets killed

Half glasses get filled

A thorn touches a nerve

You get what you deserve

A candle goes out

Conviction ends doubt

An old friend calls you

An actor gets his cue

After making up your mind

Or a divorce is signed

Piston meets waiting petrol

You get to know your role

After the finish line

You see your design

After a tongue gets high

You get away with a lie

A sword meets a heart

You read a chart

Heat overcomes cold

A complex trick is told

The joy of release in a moment

after everything

Love, the thing with me

Is in moment number three

Between exit and debut

I try to live between the two

I live in the moment.

After the past, before the unknown

Welcome to your moment

Join the Facebook Page, or Subscribe to get this blog directly in your email

Lilith

By Gaurav Parab

The fading of the light
Makes memories easy to see
Like a TV in the dark
Focus out explosions from debris

My gun waits by my side
Windows shut down tight
The wind whispered her name
Dark shadow of white

My hands run along the blade
Of a rusted steel comb
Even fear is little afraid
That the beast followed me home

My large dog in the corner
He refuses to move
The eyes of loyalty and honor
Are now too afraid to prove


Lightning strikes outside
Dark rains follow soon
Daylight long left to hide
Like that cowardly moon

I break the last bottle of wine
Sprinkle the glass on the floor
Where the moon escapes to shine
As I hear a knock on the door

Join the Facebook page, or subscribe to get this directly in your inbox. 

I am listening to Cortez the Killer by Neil Young.

A Giraffe, Lost For Words

By Gaurav Parab

As I turn around to say, how do I say?

Do I use the words from a student’s essay

Or the rhymes inside a dead poet’s last paragraph

Rhymes like the spots on a random word like giraffe

All I have to say, is what I said

When you turned, and looked at our bed

It is unfair to judge me only for my words

A fearless goat directing a hundred shepherds

It is wrong to say, what you never said

But thought about it anyways, in your head

What did you really get out of it?

What did you sign up for, when I quit

Whispers ringing out loud and clear

Confusion's a Soldier leading a Brigadier

My greatest gift is perhaps what I took

A brilliant page in an unremarkable book

I loved you for who you are

The melody inside a broken guitar

But when I saw you change only for me

You know me, I agreed to disagree

I changed to save you

The one I loved

For if I loved, you would change

Like a Giraffe lost for words

Subscribe to Gaurav Parab Says and get this blog directly in your inbox

What's on my playlist this week? Cortez the Killer by Neil Young