Addicted | Bobby Pawar

We met in the admissions line 
in junior college. I ran 
to grab the place behind you, 
hoping you would talk to me. 
I am sorry you did.
You asked me if I’d like to 
come to your birthday party. 
I said, ‘You hardly know me.’
You asked, ‘Are you always 
this unfriendly?’
I said, ‘No, only when I am scared.’ 
You laughed and asked, ‘So 
are you coming?’ 
I left the question hanging between us.
Hang us it did. 

Months later you lay in bed, 
watched eyes wet.
I chased the rainbow rising 
from a folded foil with 
a rolled up ten rupee note. 
Deep breath. Exhale.
In that moment you were 
a junkie too. I was 
your drug of choice. 
A poison in your veins, 
injected straight into your heart. 
One day you pulled the needle out. 
I held a rolled up ten rupee note 
and chased the memories of you 
wisping from a cigarette foil, 
eyes shining wet.

Storyteller. Poet. Engineering college dropout. Purveyor of f-bombs. And m-bombs. Former advertising-man. One of India’s most awarded creatives. If you Google ‘Bobby Pawar’, it will show three people. One was in prison. The second goes by @jesus_is_life on Insta. You will find him dangling somewhere between the sinner and the saint.