after dark

the sun hadnot shown in entirety. but its rays still reached her. they filled the air with mellow light. in the serene yellow, the water of the pond was still black. there were silent ripples. a shrub of hibiscus tilted on the water, like a lover. ripe flowers of the color of blood, dropped into the water. one after the other. killing themselves. there sat a girl on the stairs. never as conscious as then. a moment later a pale sun showed itself. a peace descended on her mind. she got up. one could see the joints of her bones undoing themselves. she stepped into the water. tip-toed one step down. she looked at her feet under the black water. their outlines moved precariously with the waves that formed. then she looked up front. at the bank, opposite. one more step down, she paused for one moment. and looked back, at the world.

then she walked away. deeper into the water..

Hiatus~

she smiled a lot. and when she smiled she could feel her dimples form. she

could feel her strands of hair stray to her face. she purposefully left

them intact. until the wind played with them yet again. kept throwing

them on an off her face. her dimples formed and unformed. she kept trying

to find out if her left cheek dimpled. she wondered how she had two cheeks

but one dimple. just one..

he swayed from this side of the road to that. there must have been some

song playing in his mind. he had never planned for this night. stranded a little

before middle of the night. a mildly cold night. waving to every rare cab

that passed by. and looking back at her and smiling distinctly after one more

cabbie betrayed them..

i wonder if she could see his smile. it was dark. the only light being that of

billboards on top of buildings in and around. neither could he see her dimple

form and unform. but he was aware of the distinct one on the right cheek.

faint yet there. and he probably loved it.

this went on till one cabbie relented to take them home for the night.

on the way, she wanted the typical music playing..the late night long drive

instrumental one. music that suited the moods of a drunken city. besides hers

and his.

when they brushed past the winds, the silent streets snored. the music

inside the cab only danced, causing a sort of a furore.

the wait had been long. wait for a cold rain or probably snow. the signs began

to show as they travelled deeper into the night. the wait seemed to end now.

they wondered if it snowed ,would they have to stand the whole night under

a tin sheet, or something? waiting for it to get day.

as it got only colder, on the way, the only warming effect came from the

presence of each other. she laughed..often irresistibly. and every now and

then he kept looking at her.

and that's how they reached home that night. Period

Disclaimer: It so appears that some have a problem with my writing. Such people may kindly

Abstain.

..One muted Sound

But I never thought she would die so Soon

So soon

But she did

I never could never think writing about her

Exactly what her death is making me do

Now

In the last few days

She had been going blind

I din't know

I din't care to know, honestly

Why should I

Poke my nose into business

Thats' just not mine

She won't look at us

Coz' she cun't see us

With her blind eyes

I dont' do earings, I cant'

they so remind me of what she was

and what she was to me

Sleep eluded me so

those nights of her death

Benumbed with Shock

I couldnt' bear to forget

the distinct contours

of her face

The face

her slight squint

those hanging cheeks

the chin dimple

oil-dipped hair..

thin hair

weird hair

weird memories

memories that dont' want to be forgotten

that come back for randome seconds

and stay, daylong

sometimes nightlong

they don't leave me

she dont' leave me

those who depart

why at all they do..

Insane Again..

I write when I am possessed
Totally overwhelmed
I write because
I can’t help it
I write it out because
There is no other way out but words
I write out of a compulsive obsession
I write to get rid of
It

But now
There is kind of a
Gossamer of thoughts
Inside me
And the thing I realize is that
I am sad
Very sad
Irreversibly sad
And I can’t dissect my feelings to
Find out what fundamental feelings
They are made of

Life is pro’ly
Seasoning me
Fate is pro’ly
Getting ready to unveil
Colors like
Flashy red, distant violet
And shades of grey
Thick prominent thick
Shades of grey

Now it’s hard for me
I can’t let things
So foreign sink in
So easily into
This delicate my being

But
I know
Sooner or later
Grey and indifference will
Rule me
Me

One day
Sooner the better
This gossamer of thoughts
Will give up and
Disintegrate
Into all that it’s made of
To show me
Bare skin

And that day
I will find some way
To be
Happy again.

PS:OnewudncaretoreadthiswholeorhalfbutIcudncareanyless

Shoot the Moon

last night when i evaluated the magnitude of dearth in my life, i decided to take a walk, though it was long past midnight. i was walking alone and alone and then i was also looking at the moon which was showing itself more distinctly than usual. i was actually staring at the moon and walking, rather than looking in front. and it was jaw droppingly cold. rib-shakingly cold. i hid my hands in the pockets of my coat and kept walking, on and on till i could walk no more. no, it was not me who got tired. but the road finished. i stood almost at the end of my world, staring out into the world that wasn't mine. my patience ended, then and there. i could stare no more. all stings that had tied me till yet loosened. i evaluated the magnitude of dearth in my life, even more.

a need is a state of perennial deprivation. and there is no assurance that it can be pacified by means human. it is just there because it's there. the causes of mine are unknown. so pacification is an impossibility, almost. and this is what makes the hole a lot more bigger, and the dearth, more life stakingly, patheticalling and cruelly, looms larger than life.

when you don't know what is it that your hands are looking out for and you are in the dark, then your hands try to feel every damn thing that they come across. and then you ask yourself if this is the thing you were actually looking for. since you don't know what you were looking for it takes a long torturous journey to convince yourself that that is the not the thing you were looking for. this i swear i hard, it is hard to death, coaxing yourself to believe, yes it is.

and this is what i was doing last night, standing at the end of my world, staring at the moon till i could no more and letting the cold enter my skin, my bones, my soul. i wanted to know if cold could numb, of not heal. and was stretching my hands out in the open like waiting for an embrace. till i could, no more. any more.

so i turned back, holding myself close, really close and slept for the night, last night 

and today morning i thought of this

..i love you in reds and in blues

your cheekbones that standout when you so smile

the way you walk

like you are swaying

or flying

the sound of your laughter

and the depth of your voice..

it hurts to even think of you

to let you enter my sphere of perception

you are like a curse

but i cant help myself..

i just love you in reds and in blues

1:23 AM

Sometime ago I found the guy who justifies this poem about the fictitious biker~lover. I relished those moments of knowing him and telling myself that the weirdest of words can by a feeble chance of fate become true. I have a world of work to do. I have but not idea why I am writing this instead. So I just am, giving it a go. Chewing happydent keeps me happy. Like there were a certain tonic for happyness. I'm looking around like an insane woman forit. I have realized some truths about myself. And I want a live in harmony with these. May the force be with me. I am trying to use less 'I's in this post to prove that I am trying to be less obsessed with myself and convince myself that I am beginning to recognize there exists a world outside my mind. But I can't help it. This blog (of mine) is all about sad love, supposedly. So let me define it: Love is when Familiarity breeds love and strictly not contempt as she usually does. I seriously hope you got my previous statement. Now nod. Personally things that are vague enamour me out & out. Professionally such things make way for disgust. Now that's split personality. Wonder how I live with one contradiction inside me and surrounded by another. I live in a hilly city and it never stops raining. So I have learnt the art of sharing my umbrella with strangers, complete ones and incomplete ones. I am tired of jargon. I hate jargon. Indifference has been the most bejewelled of attitudes. It still is. Fascinations: tango, venice, dubai, smoke, red eyes, empty streets, roof~top restr@s. Roof~top restaurants because I found one tonite. It overlooks my hilly city, full of lights, where it always rains. It gave me that feel of Cloud~9. The biker~lover guy I talked about initially and this place are linked somehow. If they are not, as of yet, I would see to it that get linked anyhow, in the future. Or else we will have an Alternate Future.

Truth happens when they meet: the yin and the yang. I am glad, I didn't miss my moment of Truth.

You I & the Dream

Long ago you asked me what the dream of my life was/ is.

That induced some thinking, before I realized what it actually is.

There was a mountain I had climbed sometime. At the zenith, I looked at the other side of the mountain. It looked like a dream. I had seen nothing like that all my life.

And after that rendezvous, I could never get over it.

So I felt that the dream of my life was to spend a night on the crest of that mountain, star staring. Out in the cold. Out in the dark. Sitting all through the night. Staring at that Dream.

Later, I came back to you to tell you that this is what the dream of my life was/ is..

Then you asked/told, 'And you want to spend the night up there with me.'

I said, 'No .. Alone .. all Alone..'

...

PS :One thing I seem to have realized is that I am just too cynical to be worthy of Love.

Pic Courtesy: S

Dini-II

Off late besides postponing movies for a later part of my life, I have come to know a certain thing. I have an uncanny ability to see through people. In most cases I do. This happens if you are ditched badly twice or once. The inability to trust even the simplest of people becomes settles in pretty deep. You wonder if anything is but a facade. But on another note, who in here is simple? I mean does the word even exist?

Everyone is complicated. Yes..please, no arguments they are. I being the epitome of all complications is yet another story. But you can't deny my judgement here. It's as sound as sound could be.

Tall people, short people, the ones with spikey hair, the ones with curls..chubby ones skinny ones..elated ones happy ones sad ones depressed ones devastated ones..all look complicated to one eye and on the other hand contrastingly mundane to the other eye.

Oyah. Everyone is mundane. No arguments, they are. That is precisely why I cannot stand anyone anymore. Anyone forthatmatter.

Everyone is 1. self-obsessed!

Oh Dear God if you exist, why, why on earth and in the rest of the universe did you have to make everyone so so bloody self obsessed? Argh! Arghh! Why?

People love other people just because they are loved back. Could hypocrisy sink to do more ignominous lows than this? I don't know. With the kind of people around, you never know who could stoop to what lows.

You have to stand and stare and bear or pretend to do so. And I honestly can't do so anymore. I cant stand these people any more. Someone take me away! Someone (who is not self obsessed) puhlease take me away..Let's take to wings, let's do something out of the world. Let's do anything but the mundane.

I want to see a better world. A slightly more rational one, that I can justify to myself. I don't want to end up hating everyone I know, because familiarity somehow always breeds contempt.

But somehow life has unconsciously become one journey. A journey to find the Intense. This is one sole category I adore, worship, am enslaved to. But I am afraid I do so because

I am yet to dissect them in my mind. Once they are in pieces, again all that shows is how mundane they had been, how misled I was. Hence the sad story.

I am not a pessimist. I have the power of reason.