Linen...

Windows to my soul...
Secrets - neatly tucked in sombre quilts of presence...
Thoughts hung to dry; dripping with pitter patter drops of emotions ...
Longing , stretched to press and fold; to be  stacked one above the other...
Sandwiched between desires and cravings...
Some whims arranged on hangers to quickly throw on , on days of uncalled for solitude...
Love... Spritzed on this wardrobe of existence...
Search, quest, yearning make sounds on a keychain of a cresent shaped pearl tub ...
I am bliss!
- Prajakta Sathe

If only...

There lay 1000 suns amidst the thought of asking you out and the possibility of even considering to sit across a table with those jet black eyes staring the hell out of me asking all curious questions without a single word...
Not because you were monogamous in your failed marriage to a girl out of your religion , not because I have been polygamous in my successful marriage within my community caste and subcaste too...
Not because you unjudged me for being happily uncommitted in a legal bond not because I excused you for now exploring physical perks of non matrimonial crown...
Not because you told me you are attracted to me not on face but on hush hush blue ticks at wee hours unbothered...
Not because the experimental kiss that happened between us was awkward from your end and totally working and hot on mine...
Unbothered because you cared to tell me no it's not working and that you can't do it to your best friend's wife...
Unbothered because you knew that I had already married my boyfriend's best friend once and that craziness runs in my blood
Not because it definitely unbothered me if  any faintest resemblance of her to me un-nerved you or maybe absolutely not...
But because it unbothered me if I could yet again fall for another best friend of my husband ...
History repeating itself till lessons were learnt was a scary realisation and both you and me were tired of running on and off this track with our historical baggages in tow...
Of questions about our present , about plastic fences that we pseudo cared for scare us even as we deny...
About synthetic conditioning that we were raised to believe in , about morals that societ reforms sulked about and about my genuine trust about human resonance...
Sure of my craziness of leaving it all and running off with a vibrationally synchronised soul about letting everyone love anyone and celebrating anyone loving everyone
About the shock, disbelief and unacceptance about my evolution from my crushes on different attributes at different times on different men...
If only we could take a step
If only we could learn to trust
If only we could build up a whim
If only if we dared to dream
If only we could hold the hand
And walk some steps...
With no sacred fire , zero precious metal rings , nil signs on pieces of paper
Live for an experience to be etched in our blueprints just to learn a lesson and move ahead in life without creating additional drama around things...
If only I could be humanly divine as you just like how divinely human I am...

Galaxies in my cup...

Missing you Never happens out of the blue
Midnights of cold enforced solitude when mugs of hot chocolate and fluffy blankets fail miserably to provide the expected rise in mercuries from Mars and Venus...
I keep remembering the comforting darks that we spent on our favorite recliner, watching mushy rom coms , chick flicks, dramas, thrillers , actions, horrors sometimes wearing each other's clothes...
Me in your boxers and you in my singlet...
On nights of off season or in season rains when there is no moon to look at or no thinking that you may also be looking at it from where you are, connecting us in strange ways because monsoon here and there pours waters that taste differently
On rainless noons where sun blazes fire to shame , my hormones unable to tame yearn to undo your weaning
And noons remind me of your full shirts that I hated... Because you looked drop dead handsome in them and then I wouldn't want to let you go for work looking all dapper in that powder blue crisp formal shirt and khaki beige killer trousers...
I also hated you in short sleeved tees... Because then I could skin feel your   impeccably carved biceps that made me want to be in your arms for another minute way past your till your sleeping patience ran out , but you'd still stay in and lay there doing what you gorgeously did...
Run your fingers through my hair while we spoke nothing feeling your heart beats as my head rested on your chest...
I also hated you without shirt... Because it showed marks of a kiss here and a faint scratch there... Your flat stomach and the scar on your neck which reminded me of the tree bark you lifted to save me from an accidental leg slip on our way down from Karnala bird sanctuay... I hated you always... With clothes or without and you loved me nevertheless...
The door bell rings incessantly on some days and random mails , parcels couriers drop in not allowing me to day dream about you about us about how your honey almond  eyes gleamed when they caught me staring at you in between routine random talks ...
On chirpy spring mornings when the cuckoo peps the world in candy floss and yet my world spins for a toss when some lay man in the lift wears the same Issey miyake making my heart skip a beat on the whim of a whiff...
I remember the post work mandatory hug that smelled ohh so good and familiar and calmed me down with the fragrance...
I remember how we'd skip dessert to quickly brush and get in bed and how one of us burst into a laughing fit blaming the other to be extra horny since the paste taste was still there...
Someone forgot to rinse well said our notoriously inviting stare...
No it's not gross that I still remember how you tasted early in the morning unbrushed unwashed on my palette, your morning breathe was musk and so was our post workout love making...
Uninhibited , unhygienic, crude, raw...
I remember that I ate my food fast but you ate it faster and so we d never dine out we d rather cook at home ....
Which meant that I cooked and you d do your man thing
You d watch the match or the news or the history channel or YouTube
I d lovingly serve you d ravenously eat and then we d savor our lips for dessert  and make out on the couch
And as we happened some things didn't
Like I expressed myself through words I tried to understand that maybe you couldn't
I wanted to know where we stood , who we were and our woulds or coulds
I wanted to know if there were any boundaries expectations or labels to what we were
Some things needed to be named as we grew near
I asked you smiled and then we walked a few miles
It was a walking date , maybe twist of fate
You chose to close you read out three poems which stated your current state of mind , those poems weren't yours...
I was looped into an uncalled for rewind.
To want a closure not a seal was just a small wish not a big deal
I wanted to know not command where we were what was our stand
You kept being gentle I kept being sweet
We drifted apart clean and neat
Now you visit me unannounced and straight only in memories where the new me still waits...

Adieu

The long day seeps
From the empty sixth month sky
Noon falls strangely silent into the eve
It's raining black cherries now
And seeing this the windows cry
A tube light flickers in faint
The smoke from the wick intoxicates
Fame casts a shadow of the melting drops
The molten transparent turns white
Like the only strand of hair
Left loose from my tight clasp bun
I hear the bell and open the door
To find a fresh string of carefully strung buds
Unblossomed mogra clad in green
Wondering if I must pick it up
I bend down to hear footsteps down the stairs
The gait sounding familiar I pick up the fragrant gift
I come in and sink in the sofa...
Place the string on my chest
Inhaling it deep I forget everything
My name and his and the memories
For a miniscule moment I feel free
I get up and fidget in the kitchen
Come by the curtains swinging crazy through the windy night
Raise a toast, it's masala chai...
Our masala chai...
Raindrops dry on my sweat covered face
Steam from the cup hazes the view
I see a figure sitting calmly in crazed downpour below
Cross-legged, meditative, sure...
I try to comprehend the seat
and fathom the time, the reason.
He tried, I think, now I must do...
I let go... Run down watch him stand to bid adieu
I hug, hold on, cling and try ...
We struggle to breathe while we cry
but some things were not meant to be
We promised we'd love but set the 'US' free
I watch him fade in torrential drift
Walk back home tad more swift
Drenched in tears the tube turns on
Destiny prevails, life moves on...
- Prajakta Sathe

That eve...

Dew wet wings
Opening to say hi
Sun kissed paisleys
On my lips
You watch a leaf settle down
Shyly
It's spring and you know...
You sound like spring rain
On a lazy noon
The mattress curls up
As dusk descends
On our naked softs
Love lays calm
Till night fades
In the faint last droplets
Pattering down the roof post shower
We know it's time
We know it's true

Look...

Next to his smooth tanned back,
I find myself bliss-ning...
Wondering
how wild
the snow would be...
It's hot and I wait
When he smiles rare,
his amber eyes gleam...
Winter grass blooms...
- Prajakta Sathe.

Trust me...its real

People love the Full Moon Night, and I wonder why this bias? 

I believe my beauty has nothing to do with or without the presence of an attention seeker

Because I am deep , dark , mystic, romantic and cold

My body bejeweled with sparkling twinkle

I lit up my black, sprinkling it with crushed diamonds from near and far

Sky is my breath, and light my lover that I meld into & Horizon, my bed 

My home, this vast expansive infinitesimally non ending space 

There are strings attached, and forces too!

Some distant, some near, some attracting others crashing

I have mini affairs with other sources but return back to my light

He makes me feel home

I look on when a star dies , like cells in a live body and earthlings below...

Yes a black hole same color as mine and the same shade of grief...

Enlightens me about about this circle

Galaxies are distant families, planets from other solar systems relatives

Their suns, my fantasies... Some supernovas my flings...

I wonder why they came up with the term one night stand

I laugh aloud at the negative glory they embark upon my existence 

Standing or lying down, cherished memories happen,  also in broad day light...

Silly them...

Nevertheless I am happy taking the blame off my love for good...

People who come for star gazing are my favorites

They admire my ebony aesthetics and I gift them my best animation ever

Bring on the shooting starts, asteroids, comets and the works

They applaud, I smile...

flashing my constellations for people who know or pretend to

Yet I yearn to meet and dissolve in the day on our fixed date every time...

He is bright and handsome and motivates the mortals  

While I bring solace to the artists and the misfits

I behave differently with different beings

I flirt with Mars and Dominate Venus

Some places, I abandon them for long,

These earthlings may have burdened my lover 

With smoke and chemicals and particles that kill

I too am un glorified with thefts and wrongdoings of human mind

But we , He and I are divine entities and we don't judge 

We will show up on our turns and won't fail or budge

I fade my cool into his warm embrace 

While he comes crashing on my lap to feel the breeze and rest

he and me Romance personified from the beginning of time till the end 

Which may never come, we rejoice because here or there in this world or that

No matter what , only love is real, just love is real, trust me, love is real!!!

Inhale...

BREATHE..... 

I love how places of worship create the perfect concoction of ambient comfort 

The temple... 

It's heady mix of flowers leaves , camphor, petals, dhoop , batti diyas, prashad, teerth laced with the tinkling sounds of bells and occassional arhythmic gong of the Ghanta

How could it ever go wrong???

A tad bit yes, if the mandir is of a celebrity idol like a Shirdi, Mahalaxmi or a Siddhivinayak and the lineage of superstar mega Gods

I always wanted to bottle this collective fragrance to take away with me for days when things go haywire to help recreate the feel good atmosphere...

I am intrigued at how I like the whiff of a fading diya until and after the moment it has completely extinguished , leading to a deep serious mellow fragrance...

Mind you its a different scent of a fading Oil lamp, ghee diya or a candle...

Wait and stand patiently until it blows off to witness the magic...

All three experiences uniquely alluring (at the cost of being labelled apshakuni mahila with weird fetishes like these)

I love the fizzy whiff a match exudes when it lights up.... ahhh... irreplaceable...

Had I been uneducated and unaware of the ecosystem, I d ignorantly light all matches of a match box smelling each burning match with equal awe...

The gas burner goes off on an occasionally windy day and folks run to the kitchen to extinguish it for safety... 

I wonder why men get down at the fuel stations and women sit back in the A/C ...

I on the other hand adore the heavy LPG, CNG, Diesel and other fuel smells...

Books? mmmmm.... can never get over the rustic old world vintage yielding smell of ancient hard covers with yellowing interiors, pages slowly breaking down with brown edges

And yes, I get a high while digging my nose right at the centre of a crisp new book copy, the fresh binding and karara texture....

Annnnnnd.... The whiff of the stud that works out beside me - irreplacable men's deo blended with testosteron... Killer!!!

I m a gym junkie myself, but one of the reasons to go to the gym, well of course are great smelling men with even greater bodies... win win situation!!! isn't it?

Our gym - house keeping mama has put up his cooking stove near our weight training area in a corner.

What a wicked tadka the man puts, oh boy... it is a punishment to keep pushing ourselves on the floor with his out of this world yummy dals khichadi and rassa's simmering a few feet away...

When he slow roasts his paranthas , you cringe while crunching your paunch in disbelief. 

How I d wish to offer him a cook's job in house!!! 

How can we forget the evergreen first shower of rains...

When rain makes love to earth to make it fertile and give birth...

I have got this one bottled though in the form of an Ittar called GIL.

Fresh Grass, dry grass, cut grass, lemon grass... well, any weed smells great! even the rockers would agree!!!

The old school favorites, Mogra,Chameli, Juhi, Raatrani, Rajnigandha...all the white flowers!

And  Soan champa's intense orgasmic fragrance, Genda phools festive whiff...

However, I dont like Roses of any kind. I feel they are tad bit over-rated...

I love the Jasmine oil and Ubtan smell of Diwali and the Browny, truty fruity, rum and Vanilla enfused Christmas and Khus entwined with Firdaus perfumed  Eid...

I love the way Hindu's serve their ghee laden banana sheera at satyanarayan puja's and the Muslim streets enlightened with out of this world smelling kebabs on the street corners, the dhabbas with authentic punjabi tadkas and the Thelas with divine jalebi's and malpuas... 

I hate spas that lure clients with Chocolate or coffee wraps, we might as well eat what we want and flaunt it on our faces and thighs instead of putting it on our skin... 

Secretly I ve tried both on skin at home.... it doesn't work... you end up licking yourself with shame...

The smell of first Hapus of the season... anyone???

The Sizzling browny after the yoko sizzlers???

The cheese that melts on top of nachos with salsa beside your seat in the theatre at the same day you have planned to eat clean???

The crispy deep fried chinese starters at a weekday wedding when it is NOT YOUR CHEAT EAT  DAY???

The unbelievable dollop of Ghee that is undisputedly laden on dal dhokli by your Gujju aunt??? 

These smells are eternally irreplacable...

You know what I like more.... the moment when a baby is unswaddled to check its diaper after a post bath nap....

The Johnson and Johnson with the dudh malai besan haldi on their tender skin..... Divine! 

I have always planned to have many babies just because I d like to smell them after their bath...

I know I am weird, don't give me those looks...

The Southern smells.... The pure mysore sandal soap , the chandan agarbattis , the rassam, sambhar, avial and the coconut oil banana chips with payasamn on a banana leaf.... 

I wanted to marry a mallu, a tam bram, a keralite, just for this.... Yes, yes roll your eyes!!!

The eau-de-cologne reminds me of cold strips of chilling water on my hot forehead while having fever... 

I have fond memories of falling ill, not because I am a sadist but because cologne smells lovely on a sick day!!! 

Talking of smells, pop corn and samosa aroma in theatre if nullified would never make the ambience set for watching a feature film...

The batata vadas in interval of a Marathi Natak are a must.... the garlicy eew to a few.... But thats how  Marathi Rangbhumi is set.... 

The whiff of butter franky at shivaji park and Paav bhaji at Canon, Sardar or Gypsy is world famous!!!

Going off food, people, I like Odonil cakes in wardrobes and napthaline balls in bathrooms too!

I love the phenyl, dettol , lizol, Glass cleaners and detergents, freshly washed moist clothes, squeakily crisp clean dried clothes, brand new linen... starched cottons, organic handlooms.... aaaaahhh....

The smell of ointment and balms... Vicks , Iodex, Amrutanjan, Zandu , Tiger... blissful!!!

The smell of Elizabeth Arden , 5 th Avenue , White Diamond perfume on women and CK Obsession and Davidoff on men.... ufff...

The smell of old spice or denim aftershave on my grandpa with a Brut spray on his shirt is a fond memory...

Smell of my nani's old saree turned into the softest rajai is a staple to sleep... 

The whiff of fresh minty breath and maybe musk on an approaching kiss is irresistable....

The smell of cuban cigar with live jazz playing on the background of a dusky campfire in an open grassland is a dream... 

Warm hands and a warmer hug on a chilling night under a star encrusted sky with foresty smell is a yearning....

The whiffs, the puffs, the aromas, the perfumes, the fragrances...

The way he tastes on my tongue resulting in a deep inhalation that can never be described in words, the entwine and intermingling is the best anticipation I've ever had...

An olfactory bliss...is this...

Kingdom across

For the first time ever

I tried to hold the ground

With my hands literally....

Lying flat on sand, mud, rocks and grass

Trying to get what I could

Seep, sink, absorb, nourish

All in my pores that kept it moist

Deep within....

The cool warmth reached

In waves of flourishing nurture

I felt the moment in my centre

Miniscule energy soared

Cells swollen, sprouting covered

Life made its presence felt

There was hope, movement, joy

There was some red and green on me

It takes time to happen I was told

I waited to see it unfold

I saw the rays that enveloped...

But suddenly there was storm....

Strong blow, whip, snap, flutter, flip

I was weakly held by my black mum

Her womb though able

I wasn't 

And then a blow flew me off her chest....

Right to a gutter of sluggish mute

I whispered with faint beats

The last trinkets of life within....

My call was heard...

His hand I saw...

He picked me up...

Held me close....

I was dim, damaged and lame

He dipped me in the fluid of purity

Washing clean my tarnished bod

Placed me in a cosy pot of brown...

Looked over me with gentle concern....

I layed... I just had to be...

Everything else was taken care of...

I rooted and shooted and sprouted and spruced...

He replanted me in open when I was strong...

I grew I budded, I branched, I rose...

I held high I bore flowers n fruit...

I gave shade, I fed, I was support

I felt better by the years....

I wanted to find out who he was...

Where he came from and about his role

His touch I still feel in the delicate inner core....

I shiver on windy nights

Not because I cannot sustain...

But imagining what it could have been...

How I wished that he was near...

and I knew that he was dear...

I longed to see him and to have him hug my bark

To make me feel at home again...

I keep searching for him in faces of all that pass

One by one, day by day...

I hope he revisits me on my last

To make the journey as memorable on the other side...

I wish him to be my final face...

I am blessed and so is he....

Till time comes when the giver the taker both become trees....

All this while I have'nt spoken a word

I have given my best and all

Accepted what nature readily gave me to thrive

I crave for just one thing....

Him....

I wish I could scream and yell out my wish to one and all...

No but we are'nt supposed to want 

We aren't supposed to say

I was happy giving anyway....

One day as I saw my roots cut to bring me down....

I wondered if I could ever see him again...

Finally I blushed in sorrow....

As I came to know....

They are taking me...

To cremate his lifeless body...

As we both Ignited in flames

Burning together our physical last

I saw his light way above

With open arms and a wonderful heart...

My light rose high and met him there

There was a union of sorts in the air....

The fused energy reached a level of vibe

Where we were welcomed by our tribe

It was where we were told a tale

From then onwards I ve never felt frail

Now we were one me and he

And this is the what they call

'Being free'....

‪#‎InBetweenTheLines‬

- Prajakta Sathe

Starved

Petals and bullets

whipped icing of Harp 

pretending to know the works by heart

club sandwich of him her and it

Love and longing shredded to bits

Some like their sandwiches open 

A few cut them through 

Others dip them in mayoexpect drab

In hunger they searched 

Found frantic tadka in bags 

Swords on plates which were

Found and never lost 

By night there was air in the whiffs

Of fried meat flung across the cliffs

Famished hawks jumping over the waste

Urge in wings lust in taste

He and she holding on to it's now

Dancing their way to the final bow

Three shots one hit 

Nothing crashed 

Two missed bullets

Rolling down the slope 

Landing in plates 

Of Duds with hope 

Yes love makes noise 

No it isn't immune to death 

By dawn we will be swollen and raw 

Cooking the imagine on mellow Simmer and stir with our paw

We will cuss, shudder while pounding the grain

Aborting the outstation 

Off the kissing train 

- Prajakta Sathe.

Rein-dear

Christmas eve

fairy lights

snowflakes on my ice lollies

Numb tongue with cheerful hue

Spring in the step with my giggling crew

Polka ribbons and girly dresses

Hands in hands and careless tresses

A boy, an uncle , a man , a stranger

Walking past us with an unobtrusive gait 

One stop and we turn around 

To see them watch us like a bait

What happened? we thought...

why us? why now?

What's different, What's new?

We asked ourselves as the dusk birds flew

And then she squeezed my hand with fright

Her eyes drawing down to the sight

Two spots ; a bright and a faded dark 

Blotted beneath to stay and stark

Shock, disbelief, confusion, fear

Covering walking clenching till our house came near

Last mile and we run like galloping dames

Panting and ranting to motherly claims

Cleaned and shielded and dressed anew 

How I wish that night if our childhood knew

That innocence percolated 

Through layers of shammy cotton 

Draining my babyness to seep and rotten

Dropping freedom and childlike gaze 

Into whims moods and a stripling phase

Wonderment, fearlessness, spontaneity all dropped

Anxious zits cryfully popped 

Curves and hair and a thumpounding heart 

Fashion mags, clearasil and tampons in cart 

Teasing and crushes and boys that stare 

Asking out , dates and a kiss that was rare

Making a lady out of a girl that was me

This was how the little one managed to flee

Now Santa was a man 

I d never sit on his lap 

Looking at his carriage

In my nervous juvenile gift wrap

- Prajakta Sathe.

Gasp

Over the extremes 

When I fancy the dark , the darker 

And the not so dark

The night crumbles like hot vanilla cookies straight out of the oven of

sensuous cravings

The night invites me

To embed my mouth in its arms 

To hold my breath till I can no longer sustain

Smelling the musk drops in its pit 

Laying still as it engorges me with its vibes 

And we begin to resonate in the sorbet of crushed ice of feelings 

That soothe and sting into a comforting null 

I and it meld into the fading black 

The loop is on

Rivets continue to pound the marks of relish with precision 

The pain satisfies the union 

It's face keeps changing with the myriad of a howling pack 

Surge creates patterns in wilderness

Outs applaud 

Some outs aspire to bask 

Some refuse to be uprooted 

Others run off 

I stay put 

Enjoying the layers of pseudo bubble popping 

In broad daylight

- Prajakta Sathe