Sirop de Vanille

You are pure unadulterated joy.
You are gorgeous black orbs I wish to adorn with thick dark kajal
You are the smile that lights up my room
You are the giggling little child I unknowingly adore
You are hell bent on pampering me
You are Maa, my silver haired beauty
You are the queen of all queens
You are lost and I love that dazed look on your face
You make me laugh till I can laugh no more
You leave me gasping for air with your accusations

You smile and your eyes light up
You laugh and a tear rolls down my eyes

You are my dusky beauty, my tall, dark and handsome
You are my porcelain doll, my blonde blue-eyed boy
You are my tanned “wannabe” Brazilian
You are the voice I listen to for hours and hours
You are my confidante after guzzling gazillions of vodkas
You are my Delhi babe, my GK chick
You are my boring black, white and blue wardrobe
You are my prim n propah prima donna
You are embarrassed by my klutzy-ness, aren’t you?
You are cocoa, delicious and I want to monter au beurre you
You are dark chocolate mousse, green tea, and psychobabble blah!
You are my guardian angel, my saviour, my all

You smell so good, like parched earth gulping down rain
You have left him weak-kneed, a nervous school-boy’s crush

You are the voice that makes me swoon till I fall flat on my face
You are the words I wish to control and play with
You are the sentences I analyse and criticise
You are my guilt trip
You are my banishment from society
You are my damnation in hell
You are my cave in the Himalayas
You are smitten by everything that is not me
You are laughter – loud, clear, brilliantly giggly, honest laughter
You are tears that flow uncontrollably
You are the blushing bride with bling bindis and glittery eyeshadow!
You are minty fresh breath
You are as simple as simple can get
You are excruciatingly complicated
You are exotic, husky, sexy such a hussy!
You are this demure damsel in damned distress

You I cannot relate to no matter how hard I try
You talk and I can hear myself think

You are vivid memories etched in my mind
You are faded-black n white-photographs that are oh so beautiful
You are the irritating tip tip of a leaking tap in the middle of the night
You are the sole reason for my sleepless nights?
You are my security blanket and Delhi is getting cold
You are my penniless struggling rockstar who refuses to sell his soul
You are my jack and coke, I repeat the order repeatedly
You are the oak, the pepper in my glass of Shiraz
You are the million smoke rings I could never conjure
You are the strumming of a guitar accompanied by the deep deep baritone
You are and will always remain a twirling twisting travesty
You are the subject twice removed from reality and still so perfectly gorgeous, gorgeously perfect
You are tongue twisters rolling off her tongue
You are all mine in my mind’s landscape
You are the urging husky whispers that compel them to let go
You are the orange-red embers the wind flirts with – blushing bright
You are wings that even Icharus’ pride cannot destroy
You are the hubris that will be my downfall with a bow in my heel

You have rendered me helpless with mixed emotions
You seem ridiculously sure of yourself and it kills me

You are effortless grace that is achieved after many years of practice
You are poetry in motion, a remarkable feat after guzzling beer after beer
You are the buzzing of a mosquito too close for comfort
You are persistent and I am unable to get rid of you
You are my end and I’m not sure of your existence
You are beautiful hands twirling a lighter
You are the perfect manicure, French if you please
You are English breakfast brewed for one and a half minutes, with two spoons of sugar and a spot of milk
You are the evil glint in her deceptively pretty eyes
You are the perfect flaw; I am merely a silver sliver
You are the founder of Neverland
You are Tinkerbell and you helped Peter Pan fly
You are dull and dreary
You are my surreal dreams coming alive
You are the catharsis I wish to achieve
You are dewdrops on bright green blades of grass tickling the soles of my feet
You are the thin film of ice formed in Delhi on 6th January 2006
You are the warmth of the sun on their wrinkly old bodies
You are the frustration of a writer who ran out of ink and paper, not words
You are the ‘blue eyed boy meets brown eyed girl’
You are my nemesis
You are my inspiration to scribble in the middle of the night…