Because you hate life and I don't
Because both of us are in search for ourselves
Because neither has even the time to grab a breakfast
We run and rush
Because, right now I am concentrating on ma career..haha!
Because I need another five years to settle down in my life
And you will need ten more...
Because we need to find ourselves first, each other next, love then...and peace last!
And I would like to unwind in the weekend, lying down beside a series of ghastly movies, go out, splurge on my own money...and dream to make it bigger...but focussing all my energies on just one single person? Sorry, but I am far too selfish for that...
Guess a lot of other things could deserve that hell lot of attention!
And well! This is mere attraction, isn't it? Everything that is, is nothing but a fad, an infatuation.
Nothing is love.
Love is nothing.
And someday in time, we'l outgrow, whatever it was...love/infatuation/crap...whatever! We'l move on...
HAHAHA!
1. favor8 color: Black
2. favor8 vegetable: Tomato
3. woman of substance: Shakira~~~
4. A regret: NA
5. A good thing: Guy I loved, din’t love me back. Would have been disastrous otherwise.
6. Best things ever: Anything that’s soporific and Intoxicating. Coffee being neither is like ma eternal love, nevertheless!
7. What’s on the cards: writing a book is on the cards. *sarcastic laughter*
8. Perfect day out: getting lost in a jungle and rain dancing my way to salvation
9. Thing I learnt: Not all tall guys are good and not all short guys are bad
10. Worst thing about a woman: having to pluck your brows every two weeks.
11. Senility has arrived when: you move on from Garnier yellow to Garnier Red (Only the conscious females would know )
12. Worst thing about me: I chew ma nails!!
13. Favor8 words: “Pathetic!” & “O My GawD-Kill me Now!”
14. Most Unforgettable compliment I e’er got: Can’t write it down here ;). Someone might just know that I considered it o-so-unforgettable!
15. People I HATE the most: Hypocrites! I hate myself when I become one.
2. favor8 vegetable: Tomato
3. woman of substance: Shakira~~~
4. A regret: NA
5. A good thing: Guy I loved, din’t love me back. Would have been disastrous otherwise.
6. Best things ever: Anything that’s soporific and Intoxicating. Coffee being neither is like ma eternal love, nevertheless!
7. What’s on the cards: writing a book is on the cards. *sarcastic laughter*
8. Perfect day out: getting lost in a jungle and rain dancing my way to salvation
9. Thing I learnt: Not all tall guys are good and not all short guys are bad
10. Worst thing about a woman: having to pluck your brows every two weeks.
11. Senility has arrived when: you move on from Garnier yellow to Garnier Red (Only the conscious females would know )
12. Worst thing about me: I chew ma nails!!
13. Favor8 words: “Pathetic!” & “O My GawD-Kill me Now!”
14. Most Unforgettable compliment I e’er got: Can’t write it down here ;). Someone might just know that I considered it o-so-unforgettable!
15. People I HATE the most: Hypocrites! I hate myself when I become one.
Silvy
These days Silvy goes out a lot. Out as in, not outside, but out of her mind for sure.
Silvy...dense woods, dark woods, cool and at peace!
Silvy... rickety buildings and dusty roads, bustling streets and yet lonely streets...
Tossing her hair back, she glanced at her watch.
She was in no hurry.But doing that was to show that she was in one.
Catching up with time every three minutes when she walking alone,was another
way of making herself and people believe that she was indeed occupied and not thinking about the mundane plight her life is subject to, when she actually was thiking about it, and thinking pretty hard at that.
Beside the watch, something that quietly tied the wrist was a thick black thread.
That reminds her of the soothsayer she'd been to, some Sunday.In her mind, she laughed out loud. Very loud.
Sometimes we could be so foolish, so-so foolish to have believed that a thread could indeed change our lives. Our murky lives. And there were also stones and other junk.
Silvy had a box of them by now. She kept them quietly in her closet. Besides the other mysteries. And there were other mysteries for sure.Some between the yellowed pages of an old diary and some between one layer of the heart and another.
Sometimes she took them all out though. To have a good laugh. She would toss the stones onto her bed and laugh again. She wanted those vibrations in her facial muscles to last a moment longer.
And the she would go quiet as she read the pages of the diary. And amongst those dateless entries and faint memories, Silvy would try to remember. Which year was that? What month? Was it by any chance a winter? And what had made those words leave her heart?
And then she would lie on her back and hold them close to her chest. Stare at the ceiling. For sometime, before pretending to be in a hurry again!
~ My life has taken a strange turn. Well it always keeps on taking turns, sometimes fortunate, but more often than not, otherwise. Just that this one does arouse a different feeling altogther. Different because I'm not feeling like a failure altogether. May be I'm feeling more than just that. Or may be I'm least concerned.
Just indifferent to what is happening to me, deaf to my own voice.
It's been a long time that this has been irking me, shaking me out of my otherwise peaceful 5 hour sleep.
And I tend to get worried and the lost sleep doesn't come back to me. I have used this feeling of impending failure to threaten my resources to work the best out in them. And sometimes I have tried to just walk it out. And dispose it off to the misty, dark, frozen, 3 am air!
And the latter is being repeated beyond what you would say is healthy. Because I've reached the borders of my mind. And beyond this is nothinG! ~
Silvy...dense woods, dark woods, cool and at peace!
Silvy... rickety buildings and dusty roads, bustling streets and yet lonely streets...
Tossing her hair back, she glanced at her watch.
She was in no hurry.But doing that was to show that she was in one.
Catching up with time every three minutes when she walking alone,was another
way of making herself and people believe that she was indeed occupied and not thinking about the mundane plight her life is subject to, when she actually was thiking about it, and thinking pretty hard at that.
Beside the watch, something that quietly tied the wrist was a thick black thread.
That reminds her of the soothsayer she'd been to, some Sunday.In her mind, she laughed out loud. Very loud.
Sometimes we could be so foolish, so-so foolish to have believed that a thread could indeed change our lives. Our murky lives. And there were also stones and other junk.
Silvy had a box of them by now. She kept them quietly in her closet. Besides the other mysteries. And there were other mysteries for sure.Some between the yellowed pages of an old diary and some between one layer of the heart and another.
Sometimes she took them all out though. To have a good laugh. She would toss the stones onto her bed and laugh again. She wanted those vibrations in her facial muscles to last a moment longer.
And the she would go quiet as she read the pages of the diary. And amongst those dateless entries and faint memories, Silvy would try to remember. Which year was that? What month? Was it by any chance a winter? And what had made those words leave her heart?
And then she would lie on her back and hold them close to her chest. Stare at the ceiling. For sometime, before pretending to be in a hurry again!
~ My life has taken a strange turn. Well it always keeps on taking turns, sometimes fortunate, but more often than not, otherwise. Just that this one does arouse a different feeling altogther. Different because I'm not feeling like a failure altogether. May be I'm feeling more than just that. Or may be I'm least concerned.
Just indifferent to what is happening to me, deaf to my own voice.
It's been a long time that this has been irking me, shaking me out of my otherwise peaceful 5 hour sleep.
And I tend to get worried and the lost sleep doesn't come back to me. I have used this feeling of impending failure to threaten my resources to work the best out in them. And sometimes I have tried to just walk it out. And dispose it off to the misty, dark, frozen, 3 am air!
And the latter is being repeated beyond what you would say is healthy. Because I've reached the borders of my mind. And beyond this is nothinG! ~
$@!) gUr|_ , am I?
I don't know what the problem is, but nothing else does it the way you did. Or more precisely speaking, no one else in the world makes me become what I am, the way you did. It's not in the touch, it's not in the way you say a word or anything else. It's in the look of your eyes. Sharp and piercing, it makes every lost dream of the past look so much more precious than the life I live at present.
It's been years we last met. And there is this surety that we are never gonna meet ever again. But once I close my eyes, your picture appears out of the dark. And no matter what, I just don't want to open my eyes. I'm so immune to the forces that want me to come out of that wicked illusion.
No matter what, I just want to keep staring, on and on at your picture. It's a strange fixation. There is no desire, no nothing. But there is a numbness in the mind. No feelings, nor is the heart crying. Just a weird fixation takes over all my senses. And I want to be carried back to the past, to carry a part of it back to the present.
No! It's not you I want to retrieve from my past. It's those tiny bits and pieces of me that I left behind with you. The part of me I lost while loving you so much. Loving you the way I can never ever love anyone else in my life. And this I say with utmost conviction.
~This one is to all the "You's" ever written in all our Blogs!~
~Zindegee main hai tum bin...Ye Viraaniya~
It's been years we last met. And there is this surety that we are never gonna meet ever again. But once I close my eyes, your picture appears out of the dark. And no matter what, I just don't want to open my eyes. I'm so immune to the forces that want me to come out of that wicked illusion.
No matter what, I just want to keep staring, on and on at your picture. It's a strange fixation. There is no desire, no nothing. But there is a numbness in the mind. No feelings, nor is the heart crying. Just a weird fixation takes over all my senses. And I want to be carried back to the past, to carry a part of it back to the present.
No! It's not you I want to retrieve from my past. It's those tiny bits and pieces of me that I left behind with you. The part of me I lost while loving you so much. Loving you the way I can never ever love anyone else in my life. And this I say with utmost conviction.
~This one is to all the "You's" ever written in all our Blogs!~
~Zindegee main hai tum bin...Ye Viraaniya~
Mayank
When I met Mayank, every soul told me to keep away and keep safe. He was a flirt. But it couldn't have mattered much to me because we became sort booze buddies. Mayank and I would do things that he did with his friends. We would discuss his girls. And how they didn't get a hint of how many other women shared his heart. I would laugh my heart out. Days were fun with him around.
So when they told me to stay away from him, it never mattered a bit.
We would talk about his every date amongst our varied topics of conversation and about how he tore open his heart to every woman of his dreams. And things would often drag themselves into late night.
And one such night, when Mayank buried deep in smoke, chose to walk me home, I said no. But he insisted. And I joked that I would have to drop him back after that.
Down the road, at the last turn before my place, when I was walking away, Mayank held my hand.
And said, "I have something to tell you."
I laughed. "Not now Mayank. I am rather drunk..."
So when they told me to stay away from him, it never mattered a bit.
We would talk about his every date amongst our varied topics of conversation and about how he tore open his heart to every woman of his dreams. And things would often drag themselves into late night.
And one such night, when Mayank buried deep in smoke, chose to walk me home, I said no. But he insisted. And I joked that I would have to drop him back after that.
Down the road, at the last turn before my place, when I was walking away, Mayank held my hand.
And said, "I have something to tell you."
I laughed. "Not now Mayank. I am rather drunk..."
Last night before I wrapped my blanket and slept, there was a story I wanted to share. When I folded my hands for the goodnight prayer, my heart felt like it was sinking. My lungs were like full of hot air, I wanted to throw out in one gush. So after I murmered the prayer and opened my eyes, I felt two drops of tear sticking to the corners of my eyes. Things that were pent up inside me sought an urgent release. In the dead of the night, at half past three.
So there was the story I wanted to get out of my mouth and so out of my mind disturbed me to hell of an extent. And I almost felt the dire urge to knock my neighbour's door. But I didn't because I couldn't. Instead I just changed sides on my bed.
And after I switched the lights off,I sensed the dark corridors outside my window. I so much wanted to feel the presence of a someone that I tried hard to hear footsteps outside...I strained my ears to hear voices talking. But I couldn't. There wasn't a soul I could tell my story to.
And my sleep was eluding me bad...
So there was the story I wanted to get out of my mouth and so out of my mind disturbed me to hell of an extent. And I almost felt the dire urge to knock my neighbour's door. But I didn't because I couldn't. Instead I just changed sides on my bed.
And after I switched the lights off,I sensed the dark corridors outside my window. I so much wanted to feel the presence of a someone that I tried hard to hear footsteps outside...I strained my ears to hear voices talking. But I couldn't. There wasn't a soul I could tell my story to.
And my sleep was eluding me bad...
Excerpt
Memories of shiny roads wet afresh from mid-monsoon showers are yet to die in my mind.
My eyes, still contained sleep, and I peeped out into the world, drops of rain slipping down the windshield, and found you right beside me, driving into a wild infinity. That was all I could ask from my life. I slid down the windows. Cold wind brushed past my hair. Ah! Must be morning! What time is it? When are we pulling up for breakfast?
~Oh! There is so much love, what do we do with it!~
My eyes, still contained sleep, and I peeped out into the world, drops of rain slipping down the windshield, and found you right beside me, driving into a wild infinity. That was all I could ask from my life. I slid down the windows. Cold wind brushed past my hair. Ah! Must be morning! What time is it? When are we pulling up for breakfast?
~Oh! There is so much love, what do we do with it!~
@ ccd
Sitting snug and smug in rooms with walls of glass and trying to guess if it was actually drizzling outside, or just the day-long dust that caused the haze appeared to be the most practical time-killer for me.
By now I had by-hearted the faces of the people sitting in the table next to mine. The chick had been nibbling something for the past one hour. She was so thin. (So- so thin!)Her hair straight-n-shiny hair fell on her shoulder in an oh-so-enviable way. The guy with her bent over the table to get an inch closer.
Also I had stared at the every possible corner at a stretch of at least five minutes.
I was running out of faces to study, and imagine things about.
‘Oh! This Damned thing!’
‘Nothing gets over in one go!’
‘Why? Is it just me!’
‘Will I get swallowed in a matter of minutes?’
‘Swallowed by forces I never would know?’
It was then that I raised my eyes to look at the person with me. Yeah, did I not tell you, that this rainy useless Sunday afternoon; I was actually not alone, sipping coffee. There was someone sitting right next to me. ‘X’ is preposterous. Let ‘A’ be the name.
Like half an hour ago, A was still busy with the frappe’. Man, how slow can one go about things? C’mon, your life couldn’t have been more messed up than mine.
Since to spark a conversation with A was a far cry, I would turn back to guessing if it was actually drizzling or it was the day long dust that caused the haze.
Time and again, I would turn to my own cup. Somehow I can never manage to hate coffee the way I hate other things. I tried to see ma face in the dark brown liguid.
But I couldn’t concentrate on that either. As in I couldn’t get away and plunge into an irrelevant chain of thoughts again. Because I kept on waiting for the frappe’ to finish. So that we could get done, and get gone.
I would look at the cars on the road for a moment. Dozens of funky people packed, awaiting the last blast of their happening weekends so that Monday morning, they could get back to their lives afresh. Lots of people. All unknown to me, and still I thought about them. People who’d never belong to this city, people, each one of whom had a past. And thanks to the adaptive human brain, each one was at peace, or was at least in the process of finding glee. Everyone in some screwed up race, with no finishing line. Why? I almost said that aloud, “Why?”
/*Three things that I need in life*/
/*I, coffee & you!*/
By now I had by-hearted the faces of the people sitting in the table next to mine. The chick had been nibbling something for the past one hour. She was so thin. (So- so thin!)Her hair straight-n-shiny hair fell on her shoulder in an oh-so-enviable way. The guy with her bent over the table to get an inch closer.
Also I had stared at the every possible corner at a stretch of at least five minutes.
I was running out of faces to study, and imagine things about.
‘Oh! This Damned thing!’
‘Nothing gets over in one go!’
‘Why? Is it just me!’
‘Will I get swallowed in a matter of minutes?’
‘Swallowed by forces I never would know?’
It was then that I raised my eyes to look at the person with me. Yeah, did I not tell you, that this rainy useless Sunday afternoon; I was actually not alone, sipping coffee. There was someone sitting right next to me. ‘X’ is preposterous. Let ‘A’ be the name.
Like half an hour ago, A was still busy with the frappe’. Man, how slow can one go about things? C’mon, your life couldn’t have been more messed up than mine.
Since to spark a conversation with A was a far cry, I would turn back to guessing if it was actually drizzling or it was the day long dust that caused the haze.
Time and again, I would turn to my own cup. Somehow I can never manage to hate coffee the way I hate other things. I tried to see ma face in the dark brown liguid.
But I couldn’t concentrate on that either. As in I couldn’t get away and plunge into an irrelevant chain of thoughts again. Because I kept on waiting for the frappe’ to finish. So that we could get done, and get gone.
I would look at the cars on the road for a moment. Dozens of funky people packed, awaiting the last blast of their happening weekends so that Monday morning, they could get back to their lives afresh. Lots of people. All unknown to me, and still I thought about them. People who’d never belong to this city, people, each one of whom had a past. And thanks to the adaptive human brain, each one was at peace, or was at least in the process of finding glee. Everyone in some screwed up race, with no finishing line. Why? I almost said that aloud, “Why?”
/*Three things that I need in life*/
/*I, coffee & you!*/
Hanging out alone on long lonely roads a lot after sun-set; brooding behind shut doors with the lights off is so much me. It’s not that I don’t have friends, but basically I’m a loner. I live a life inside myself. Bending down and looking into the dark deep tunnel that I am, I’m not sure if I would end up with anything sensible after any span of time. But then the end has hardly ever mattered.
/*Thoughts doing rounds*/
/*The thinking-man’s-fantasy is just a hypothesis because the thinking-man is just an oxymoron*/
/*Thoughts doing rounds*/
/*The thinking-man’s-fantasy is just a hypothesis because the thinking-man is just an oxymoron*/
Love & Peace!
Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. And then I would have a new horde of problems to tackle. Don’t smile at me, when I expect you to. Don’t hold out your hand for me, every now and then. Don’t pull out a chair for me, before you sit. Don’t hold the door open for me. Don’t make me feel that you’re trying to understand me…always.
Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. And then I would have a new horde of problems to tackle. Though you’re not that bad, I would have to coax myself day in and day out to believe that you’re not that good either. And that you’re just not the right guy, though you’re good at who you are.
Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. I would have to stop my head from swinging in music whenever you are around. And keep it away from sinking into layers of mushy thought, with me and you in them. So, don’t try to touch my heart. Don’t dare to disturb my life at present, I’m so much at peace.
Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. And then I would have a new horde of problems to tackle. Though you’re not that bad, I would have to coax myself day in and day out to believe that you’re not that good either. And that you’re just not the right guy, though you’re good at who you are.
Don’t be so good to me; I just in case could fall in love with you. I would have to stop my head from swinging in music whenever you are around. And keep it away from sinking into layers of mushy thought, with me and you in them. So, don’t try to touch my heart. Don’t dare to disturb my life at present, I’m so much at peace.
Today, I saw three butterflies circle a hedge. They were yellow- green in color. And the hedge was two shades darker. And it was quite a scene for me. Three of them, in a wild frenzy, dancing around each other, in some rhythm I could only faintly sense.
And just a bush away, there was a yellow butterfly, a solitary one doing rounds, looking for a flower.
I couldn’t find a single one that came with those printed wings. The prints that we never understand. Dots of maroon amongst lines of red, a splash of fuchsia here and green there. Green is to camouflage. To disappear into another green.
Then I noticed a flower that had grown out of a creeper, among short grass. The flower looked at me. Mundane flower. Dumb flower?
There are these few things, as beautiful as the dust rising as new rain falls on it, or the smell of the unruly monsoon grass being massacred.
And then I saw a shrub they call table rose. I say, why get it on your table? It looks better out there, in the wild.
And when I was a step away from home, I saw one with the colored wings brush past. It was too fast for me to notice the colors it wore. But nevertheless.
Now that I’ll cease to exist, the question is
if you’ll remember me after I’m gone
Will you remember me?
When failure kills me or a catastrophe swallows me
Now that you hold me in your heart
and call me your goddess
What next, when tomorrow I die
or fade into oblivion
Or dissolve into the horizon
from where I’d emerged
Will you wait for me
to appear as a string in the rainbow?
Will you walk endless evenings
for me to come back as a gust of cold wind?
Will you remember me?
/*I keep the template not anything but black because no other color rescues my thoughts better*/
/*Musical Mood : Ye Tumahri Meri Baatein*/
And just a bush away, there was a yellow butterfly, a solitary one doing rounds, looking for a flower.
I couldn’t find a single one that came with those printed wings. The prints that we never understand. Dots of maroon amongst lines of red, a splash of fuchsia here and green there. Green is to camouflage. To disappear into another green.
Then I noticed a flower that had grown out of a creeper, among short grass. The flower looked at me. Mundane flower. Dumb flower?
There are these few things, as beautiful as the dust rising as new rain falls on it, or the smell of the unruly monsoon grass being massacred.
And then I saw a shrub they call table rose. I say, why get it on your table? It looks better out there, in the wild.
And when I was a step away from home, I saw one with the colored wings brush past. It was too fast for me to notice the colors it wore. But nevertheless.
Now that I’ll cease to exist, the question is
if you’ll remember me after I’m gone
Will you remember me?
When failure kills me or a catastrophe swallows me
Now that you hold me in your heart
and call me your goddess
What next, when tomorrow I die
or fade into oblivion
Or dissolve into the horizon
from where I’d emerged
Will you wait for me
to appear as a string in the rainbow?
Will you walk endless evenings
for me to come back as a gust of cold wind?
Will you remember me?
/*I keep the template not anything but black because no other color rescues my thoughts better*/
/*Musical Mood : Ye Tumahri Meri Baatein*/
I slid the key into the hole. Pushed the door open, like everyday, got in and shut myself from everything else.
Should I leave the lights switched on everyday when I leave at 10 am? Because when I come back home, it's somewhat late in the evening and the place is dark. And darkness, if it is the first thing I see, makes me go dizzy.
I run to the other side of the room to switch the lights on. Throw my bag on the floor. And then my shoes. I feel my toes, run my fingers in between them. Open my hair. And simply fall on the couch. I let myself sink into it. I love the depths the cushion lets me into. And then the lights go off and I'm out. Completely.
I wake up. 12:45 and still ticking!
The ache in my legs, fatigued has thinned down into something less magnanimous. I look at myself in the mirror. Black smudge around my eyes. I run my hands through my hair. Not silky anymore. That reminds me of the weekend.
After a shower, let some coffee go down the throat. Stale sandwiches of the morning would have to be my dinner.
Some music eh? I have worn all my playlists out. So switch back to good old Shakira!
Wasn't I working on a story? Stories? Yeah, scores of them in obscure folders. Waiting to be wound up from an eternity.
One look out of the window, I see the endless row of lights on the road, tiny lights, distant lights. I stretch my hands and lean on the window sill. I could just fall off.
There is this yearning to fly, batting my hands through the air. Cold and lonely air. I lean further out, even more precariously, more dangerously. Till more than half of me is in the air.
I have never been afraid of danger. I have never been afraid of heights. Of death. But now...
Should I leave the lights switched on everyday when I leave at 10 am? Because when I come back home, it's somewhat late in the evening and the place is dark. And darkness, if it is the first thing I see, makes me go dizzy.
I run to the other side of the room to switch the lights on. Throw my bag on the floor. And then my shoes. I feel my toes, run my fingers in between them. Open my hair. And simply fall on the couch. I let myself sink into it. I love the depths the cushion lets me into. And then the lights go off and I'm out. Completely.
I wake up. 12:45 and still ticking!
The ache in my legs, fatigued has thinned down into something less magnanimous. I look at myself in the mirror. Black smudge around my eyes. I run my hands through my hair. Not silky anymore. That reminds me of the weekend.
After a shower, let some coffee go down the throat. Stale sandwiches of the morning would have to be my dinner.
Some music eh? I have worn all my playlists out. So switch back to good old Shakira!
Wasn't I working on a story? Stories? Yeah, scores of them in obscure folders. Waiting to be wound up from an eternity.
One look out of the window, I see the endless row of lights on the road, tiny lights, distant lights. I stretch my hands and lean on the window sill. I could just fall off.
There is this yearning to fly, batting my hands through the air. Cold and lonely air. I lean further out, even more precariously, more dangerously. Till more than half of me is in the air.
I have never been afraid of danger. I have never been afraid of heights. Of death. But now...
I Ain't Amused At All
I have seen far too many
So you're nothing new
Think you're too good huh?
Keep your goodness to yourself
Too much of an attitude ain't good for the soul
Get down from the heavens, dumb fool!
You foul-mouthed idiot
Mark my words, you snob
Or they will come to you
Sooner or Later
No matter who you are
And what you do
In the end,
It doesn't even matter
When the sun sets
The bird flies back to the roost, unless you're an owl
Stay away!
Keep your attitude to yourself
I have enough of my own
So you're nothing new
Think you're too good huh?
Keep your goodness to yourself
Too much of an attitude ain't good for the soul
Get down from the heavens, dumb fool!
You foul-mouthed idiot
Mark my words, you snob
Or they will come to you
Sooner or Later
No matter who you are
And what you do
In the end,
It doesn't even matter
When the sun sets
The bird flies back to the roost, unless you're an owl
Stay away!
Keep your attitude to yourself
I have enough of my own
Look Famous...!
It’s been months when I had last confessed a well kept secret. So, let’s undo that trend now.
I have had an off-beat childhood. I am not to blame anyone for it. But, I have just had one. Fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t know. Now, talking about the off-beat childhood, it was obviously enclosed. I never happened to see things for what they were. All I did was, get up the school bus from right in-front of my apartment, go to school, study hard, come back home, study harder, wait for the tuition teacher, and maintain that rank in class…
I never dared to venture out of this badly crammed up routine thing. Anything different from this would appear abnormal. And I never let anything abnormal happen.
My life was constrained, restricted in every sense of the word.
So I never got to know the world. And the world never got to know me. My mind developed strange patterns and I developed a phobia of quite a large number of things.
And all this happened before the day I stepped into college. College just freaked me out.
I got a glimpse of the things actually. And since I came to know more of the world around me, I wanted the world to know me too.
Yeah, it’s a queer thing to confess, but I genuinely wanted people to know me. For whatever the reasons be. They should just know me by face. I should be famous among whatever people I am.
And I took this becoming famous job, more seriously than I should have. It screwed up my priorities in life. Messed things up, because I thought more about what people thought about me than what I thought about myself.
So, one day, I told myself that I had had enough. I called it quits. Enough of trying to become famous and all. I am what I am.
But then life gives these tiny li’l surprises. I, actually, was famous…well..sort of…!
I have had an off-beat childhood. I am not to blame anyone for it. But, I have just had one. Fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t know. Now, talking about the off-beat childhood, it was obviously enclosed. I never happened to see things for what they were. All I did was, get up the school bus from right in-front of my apartment, go to school, study hard, come back home, study harder, wait for the tuition teacher, and maintain that rank in class…
I never dared to venture out of this badly crammed up routine thing. Anything different from this would appear abnormal. And I never let anything abnormal happen.
My life was constrained, restricted in every sense of the word.
So I never got to know the world. And the world never got to know me. My mind developed strange patterns and I developed a phobia of quite a large number of things.
And all this happened before the day I stepped into college. College just freaked me out.
I got a glimpse of the things actually. And since I came to know more of the world around me, I wanted the world to know me too.
Yeah, it’s a queer thing to confess, but I genuinely wanted people to know me. For whatever the reasons be. They should just know me by face. I should be famous among whatever people I am.
And I took this becoming famous job, more seriously than I should have. It screwed up my priorities in life. Messed things up, because I thought more about what people thought about me than what I thought about myself.
So, one day, I told myself that I had had enough. I called it quits. Enough of trying to become famous and all. I am what I am.
But then life gives these tiny li’l surprises. I, actually, was famous…well..sort of…!
Intact
All of it still lives
the innocence in my eyes
the undying patience to see you home
i still cage vivid memories of your face
the promises that you silently made
the assurance in your voice, when we met last
the way my heart paced
when your fingers slipped out of mine
the one final time....
nothing's changed, take my word
rub a li'l below my scars
and you'l get wounds as fresh
as you left them
No time can heal them
It's all safe & intact
In the chambers of my heart
the innocence in my eyes
the undying patience to see you home
i still cage vivid memories of your face
the promises that you silently made
the assurance in your voice, when we met last
the way my heart paced
when your fingers slipped out of mine
the one final time....
nothing's changed, take my word
rub a li'l below my scars
and you'l get wounds as fresh
as you left them
No time can heal them
It's all safe & intact
In the chambers of my heart
The Problem of Choice
Whenever life has bestowed upon me the luxury of choice, I
have invariably longed for the one that's not so good.
Way back in school, from I had chosen Oriya instead of
Sanskrit. My excuse was that I actually loved the former.
My love fetched me a mere 83 in boards. Sankrit guys
crushed me with their thunderous 99s.
In college I chose Biology to Statistics for reasons known
only to the holy heavens. I loved Biology? no-no! I took it
because it was tougher. Yah! I'm attracted to tough things
(no pun intended...) But one thing I would remember for the
rest of my life was cramming the morphology of the human
brain on my scooty, on my way to the exam hall.
Later in engineering, I 'preferred' Electrical to Computer
Science. For some godforsaken senior quitely whispered into
my ears that the Compsci Dept wasn't up-to-d-mark! But I
never cared to find out what the Electrical Dept was like
Now, I have slogged for four long years. No, I actually
macerated! Plus, ended up with nothing in my hands...!
So all the conscious choices I made, ditched me. They
ditched me hard & bad. But I was not convinced by history
repeating itself over and over again.
I did it again. I made the absurd choice of love. But the love
dumped me too.
But the most pathetic thing of all things is that I don't have
any regrets. yup! Absolutely none...I have absolutely loved
learning things the hard waY!
have invariably longed for the one that's not so good.
Way back in school, from I had chosen Oriya instead of
Sanskrit. My excuse was that I actually loved the former.
My love fetched me a mere 83 in boards. Sankrit guys
crushed me with their thunderous 99s.
In college I chose Biology to Statistics for reasons known
only to the holy heavens. I loved Biology? no-no! I took it
because it was tougher. Yah! I'm attracted to tough things
(no pun intended...) But one thing I would remember for the
rest of my life was cramming the morphology of the human
brain on my scooty, on my way to the exam hall.
Later in engineering, I 'preferred' Electrical to Computer
Science. For some godforsaken senior quitely whispered into
my ears that the Compsci Dept wasn't up-to-d-mark! But I
never cared to find out what the Electrical Dept was like
Now, I have slogged for four long years. No, I actually
macerated! Plus, ended up with nothing in my hands...!
So all the conscious choices I made, ditched me. They
ditched me hard & bad. But I was not convinced by history
repeating itself over and over again.
I did it again. I made the absurd choice of love. But the love
dumped me too.
But the most pathetic thing of all things is that I don't have
any regrets. yup! Absolutely none...I have absolutely loved
learning things the hard waY!
Suicide note
By the time you read this, I would be long gone. For long I
wanted to know what exactly happened after death. And
finally I would know...
I have no qualms, I hold no one responsible for my death.
It's all me, me and me. I am my nemesis.
Though I would mention one thing, the world and its people
weren't good enough for me. I was always treated like an
outsider. My expectations were crushed. I was crushed.
So finally I have decided to call it a day. It's been a long long
time, and I have had enough. So we shall finish it once and
for all.
I am not a coward or an escapist. I'm choosing a dignified way
of ending a vestigial life.
So, I'm being rather brave, I don't want to live like a piece of
flesh. My life should have been the way I wanted it to. Or it
would not be at all...
Goodbye all
Love
wildflower
wanted to know what exactly happened after death. And
finally I would know...
I have no qualms, I hold no one responsible for my death.
It's all me, me and me. I am my nemesis.
Though I would mention one thing, the world and its people
weren't good enough for me. I was always treated like an
outsider. My expectations were crushed. I was crushed.
So finally I have decided to call it a day. It's been a long long
time, and I have had enough. So we shall finish it once and
for all.
I am not a coward or an escapist. I'm choosing a dignified way
of ending a vestigial life.
So, I'm being rather brave, I don't want to live like a piece of
flesh. My life should have been the way I wanted it to. Or it
would not be at all...
Goodbye all
Love
wildflower
Their eyes met and parted, almost instantaneously
Eyes that know each other, do not look away that fast.
But with strangers it's a different thing you know...
There were human voices, so many that they condensed into a noise that submerged into the back of their brains.
And in a mad crowd like that it's natural for two strangers to fade into oblivion. To never look at each other again.
But eyes met again. And before they were to part, she felt his eyes hold on to her for a moment more. Did he know her?
'No!', she told herself...Nobody here is supposed to know me. I am not supposed to be visible. She laughed to herself.
She was sitting on the stairs...she saw herself in the shiny black marble that the floor was tiled with. Looked up at people walking on that distant road. From where she was, everything looked so distant, so alien to the world she lived in...
She tossed her hair back, the way it brushed her back always felt good, she continued doing that and staring into the semi-lit darkness.
Unconscious of her own existence, her mind stretched into the thoughts of an infinite nothing.
She tried to lengthen her mind's stay in the real world, but she kept falling into depths of an hypothetical abyss. The more she would fall into it, the more lost and free she would feel.
She crossed her legs on those shiny black marble stairs...tossed her hair backwards and it again kept falling on her shoulders.
And the stranger couldn't look away anymore. What was he looking at?
At her soul underneath layers of skin and flesh...?
Her mind juggling between possibilities and impossibilities and his kept sinking into her...
Eyes that know each other, do not look away that fast.
But with strangers it's a different thing you know...
There were human voices, so many that they condensed into a noise that submerged into the back of their brains.
And in a mad crowd like that it's natural for two strangers to fade into oblivion. To never look at each other again.
But eyes met again. And before they were to part, she felt his eyes hold on to her for a moment more. Did he know her?
'No!', she told herself...Nobody here is supposed to know me. I am not supposed to be visible. She laughed to herself.
She was sitting on the stairs...she saw herself in the shiny black marble that the floor was tiled with. Looked up at people walking on that distant road. From where she was, everything looked so distant, so alien to the world she lived in...
She tossed her hair back, the way it brushed her back always felt good, she continued doing that and staring into the semi-lit darkness.
Unconscious of her own existence, her mind stretched into the thoughts of an infinite nothing.
She tried to lengthen her mind's stay in the real world, but she kept falling into depths of an hypothetical abyss. The more she would fall into it, the more lost and free she would feel.
She crossed her legs on those shiny black marble stairs...tossed her hair backwards and it again kept falling on her shoulders.
And the stranger couldn't look away anymore. What was he looking at?
At her soul underneath layers of skin and flesh...?
Her mind juggling between possibilities and impossibilities and his kept sinking into her...
~~##~~
Our feet sink deeper into the sand as we take every new step. You begin to lean on my shoulders. And I feel like I’m dragging you along with me. You’re talking like insane. But I want you to sink into deeper levels of irreversible insanity. I look at the distant waves, layers of white foam emerging out of the sea pitch dark, and then vanishing into the same. And yet again, I look at you. You’ve almost lost it. What could have made you so drunk? Is it the alcohol, or is it something else? Is it me? Can you even walk like a man? Can you even find home?
pic courtesy: internet!
pic courtesy: internet!
the Jamun tree
I can remember the sickle-shaped jamun tree. Rain fresh. And lush green. I remember staring at it from the opposite bank of the river. Fearing the brown flood waters of the river that kept me away from the jamun tree, I wondered if there was actually a crocodile that lived underneath. And the clever monkey on the jamun tree. And whether the clever monkey had ever asked the crocodile to ferry him across to the other side. And whether the crocodile had asked for the monkey’s heart in return for the ride.
I had been told that the heart of the clever monkey who devoured bunch after bunch of purple ripe jamun was supposed to have a heart with all the coagulated sweetness in it. Or so the crocodile thought. And was hence greedy to eat the monkey’s heart once and for all.
And in the middle of the swirling waters when the crocodile paused for a moment, looked at the monkey on his back and asked for his heart. The monkey stayed mum. The crocodile threatened him.
Then monkey, clever that he was, said that he had left his heart back on the jamun tree. He would hand it over as soon as they reach the bank.
The crocodile readily agreed.
Upon reaching the other bank, the clever monkey shot up the branches and khee-khee-d from up there at the crocodile.
‘How can anyone live without his heart? You foolish crocodile.’
I had been told that the heart of the clever monkey who devoured bunch after bunch of purple ripe jamun was supposed to have a heart with all the coagulated sweetness in it. Or so the crocodile thought. And was hence greedy to eat the monkey’s heart once and for all.
And in the middle of the swirling waters when the crocodile paused for a moment, looked at the monkey on his back and asked for his heart. The monkey stayed mum. The crocodile threatened him.
Then monkey, clever that he was, said that he had left his heart back on the jamun tree. He would hand it over as soon as they reach the bank.
The crocodile readily agreed.
Upon reaching the other bank, the clever monkey shot up the branches and khee-khee-d from up there at the crocodile.
‘How can anyone live without his heart? You foolish crocodile.’
m@D gUrL--PART I
there is this guy in my class. i dont even know his name for sure. it could be some name starting with s. from the very first day when i entered the class, i looked for good faces as i have always done in the past. my eyes froze with his. but somehow i tried not to let him know that i had liked it.
we all know it happens. we all know shit happens. 'so girl, wind up! enough forthe day, shirk him off your brains', i cajoled myself. my friend told me that he had talked to her the other day. now this friend of mine being very beautiful, it's generally the case of guys coming upto her and talking to her and stuff. so i sighed some relief breathing into myself...' oh! just another guy then!'
the class ended. i walked home for weekend. i plugged in my earphones. walked the road, alone in the evening. and to do away with the fatigue, i closed my eyes for a brief while while listening to one of my all time favorites.
and after a minute or two when i opened my eyes, i was aghast. 'o my god! i was thinking about him, what is this? have i gone crazy? o my god, i was supposed to be a grown up by now'
then as saturday ran out, i watched more and more of TV. read a novel half through. and sunday, i got up at noon. ran errands, changed the water in the acquarium, did all sorts of stuff, until one quiet moment i sat down with myself and flashes of his smile ran before the eyes of my mind. and it was then that i couldn't help slipping into some indulgence. ' o c'mon, it's just a face.
mind needs a face to feed upon right? nothing wrong with it if you don't fall for him...carry on!'
monday morning, when i entered class, almost automatically my eyes scanned all the faces and stopped for a second at his. and i felt a pinch at my heart when i realised that he was already looking at me. but then that was quite natural, isn't it? anyone would normally look at the door if a latecomer standing there whispers 'may i get in?' or something like that.
so there is nothing like he-liking-me or any bullshit. i walked to an empty chair straight. and it happened to be next to his. there really was not another single empty chair in the class. or if there was, it was invisible to me.
a minute later even before the first question was written on the board, he screamed some answer. and this shook off the rest of the sleep in my eyes. i get a complex from the people performing better than me. and i find it hard to accept failure.
thankfully, whatever answer that was, it was wrong. i heard him gasp in pain. so i relaxed a little, and told myself, ' what does he think of himself huh!'
but this was not to last. he was the first person to answer almost every question correctly. and this was somewhat unbelievable to me. i would not even try a question or two thinking it to be of no use. anyway he would blurt the answer out in a couple of nanoseconds.
i felt crippled and pathetic. and all the more impressed.
later, to some question, Mr. whatever was obviously the first to answer. But i came out with some answer different from his and shouted it aloud. And then he looks at me. okay, let me confess, we look at each other. our eyes meet for the first time and he smiles and says "yeah..your's is the correct one!"
when the teacher asked who had given the correct answer, he says"yes sir, the both of us."and smiles again.
'what? what did he just say?'
later wherever i go, i find him. and the fun part is that before i find him out, he already would have found me out. the day's kinda ridiculous.
in the garage, he asks me about studies in general. he asks me, not my beautiful friend! how can that be?
anyway, i never let anyone go who asks me about studies. i blurt out all my frustration almost in one long breath. and than after this all he smiles. i hold back, 'may be he would like to ask something else'.
nothing happens. we leave.
the next day, again the empty chair next to him becomes mine. and the entire class i try to concentrate and remove him completely from my peripheral range of view. i had been almost successful.
while we leave, my friend says, "the guy next to you...i guess he's got a tiny something for you."
"err...a tiny what?"
"come on, don't be an @$$. I caught him staring at you almost ten times", she giggled...!!!
And then I got home and wrote two poems f0r him.
we all know it happens. we all know shit happens. 'so girl, wind up! enough forthe day, shirk him off your brains', i cajoled myself. my friend told me that he had talked to her the other day. now this friend of mine being very beautiful, it's generally the case of guys coming upto her and talking to her and stuff. so i sighed some relief breathing into myself...' oh! just another guy then!'
the class ended. i walked home for weekend. i plugged in my earphones. walked the road, alone in the evening. and to do away with the fatigue, i closed my eyes for a brief while while listening to one of my all time favorites.
and after a minute or two when i opened my eyes, i was aghast. 'o my god! i was thinking about him, what is this? have i gone crazy? o my god, i was supposed to be a grown up by now'
then as saturday ran out, i watched more and more of TV. read a novel half through. and sunday, i got up at noon. ran errands, changed the water in the acquarium, did all sorts of stuff, until one quiet moment i sat down with myself and flashes of his smile ran before the eyes of my mind. and it was then that i couldn't help slipping into some indulgence. ' o c'mon, it's just a face.
mind needs a face to feed upon right? nothing wrong with it if you don't fall for him...carry on!'
monday morning, when i entered class, almost automatically my eyes scanned all the faces and stopped for a second at his. and i felt a pinch at my heart when i realised that he was already looking at me. but then that was quite natural, isn't it? anyone would normally look at the door if a latecomer standing there whispers 'may i get in?' or something like that.
so there is nothing like he-liking-me or any bullshit. i walked to an empty chair straight. and it happened to be next to his. there really was not another single empty chair in the class. or if there was, it was invisible to me.
a minute later even before the first question was written on the board, he screamed some answer. and this shook off the rest of the sleep in my eyes. i get a complex from the people performing better than me. and i find it hard to accept failure.
thankfully, whatever answer that was, it was wrong. i heard him gasp in pain. so i relaxed a little, and told myself, ' what does he think of himself huh!'
but this was not to last. he was the first person to answer almost every question correctly. and this was somewhat unbelievable to me. i would not even try a question or two thinking it to be of no use. anyway he would blurt the answer out in a couple of nanoseconds.
i felt crippled and pathetic. and all the more impressed.
later, to some question, Mr. whatever was obviously the first to answer. But i came out with some answer different from his and shouted it aloud. And then he looks at me. okay, let me confess, we look at each other. our eyes meet for the first time and he smiles and says "yeah..your's is the correct one!"
when the teacher asked who had given the correct answer, he says"yes sir, the both of us."and smiles again.
'what? what did he just say?'
later wherever i go, i find him. and the fun part is that before i find him out, he already would have found me out. the day's kinda ridiculous.
in the garage, he asks me about studies in general. he asks me, not my beautiful friend! how can that be?
anyway, i never let anyone go who asks me about studies. i blurt out all my frustration almost in one long breath. and than after this all he smiles. i hold back, 'may be he would like to ask something else'.
nothing happens. we leave.
the next day, again the empty chair next to him becomes mine. and the entire class i try to concentrate and remove him completely from my peripheral range of view. i had been almost successful.
while we leave, my friend says, "the guy next to you...i guess he's got a tiny something for you."
"err...a tiny what?"
"come on, don't be an @$$. I caught him staring at you almost ten times", she giggled...!!!
And then I got home and wrote two poems f0r him.
It was a black and white picture. Now I have it framed and it sits on the wooden showcase in my living room. To its right I have placed the vase that you’d given me then. It has no flowers. So that just the vase reminds me of you every time I look at it.
There is nothing much around the place such that whenever I sink into the couch and kill a pillow between my arms, all I can see is the black and white picture.
And you are staring out of it. I look at you and our eyes meet. And my mind travels back to the days when we’d just a few days in hand. The look on your face is that of suppressed laughter. You played safe, not knowing when the camera would click.
I look at the glint in your eyes. A glint that sometimes feels like everything to me.
But I can’t look into your eyes for a moment longer. I couldn’t then. And I can’t now. I start shaking and my hair stands up. I lower my gaze.
And there's me. Not looking at the camera but at you.
It was near my computer, remember? I didn’t know when you’d popped up.
‘We’r gonna get our picture done? WoW! Lemme do my hair…!’
‘Please…one minute..okay…fifteen seconds?’
And then suddenly you rushed to my side, asked me to face the cam and smile. In my chair, you standing beside me, I was still looking up at you and complaining, and it got clicked.
And that second froze forever. For me to sink into my couch and stare at it years later.
Your hands quietly lay on the rim of my chair. Felt like you would never let go.
Felt like one dream that should have come to true.
There is nothing much around the place such that whenever I sink into the couch and kill a pillow between my arms, all I can see is the black and white picture.
And you are staring out of it. I look at you and our eyes meet. And my mind travels back to the days when we’d just a few days in hand. The look on your face is that of suppressed laughter. You played safe, not knowing when the camera would click.
I look at the glint in your eyes. A glint that sometimes feels like everything to me.
But I can’t look into your eyes for a moment longer. I couldn’t then. And I can’t now. I start shaking and my hair stands up. I lower my gaze.
And there's me. Not looking at the camera but at you.
It was near my computer, remember? I didn’t know when you’d popped up.
‘We’r gonna get our picture done? WoW! Lemme do my hair…!’
‘Please…one minute..okay…fifteen seconds?’
And then suddenly you rushed to my side, asked me to face the cam and smile. In my chair, you standing beside me, I was still looking up at you and complaining, and it got clicked.
And that second froze forever. For me to sink into my couch and stare at it years later.
Your hands quietly lay on the rim of my chair. Felt like you would never let go.
Felt like one dream that should have come to true.
A dusk
Sunset has colored the sky
And we're biking into infinity
A speed so high
That I cant breathe anymore
That the wind pierces into my skin
To breakfree
I let my hands off your shoulders
Stretch them out and scream our names
I wait
For my voice to strike a mountain
And come back to me
But sad
Our names get lost in the air
I bite my lips & you turn back
Your small eyes
A spark of mischief in them
And you gimme goosebumps
I die
When your lips twist
And the smile reaches the whole of your cheeks
Later
I smile to myself
And I pat my back, I've loved a rebel
Sunset has colored the sky
And we're biking into infinity
A speed so high
That I cant breathe anymore
That the wind pierces into my skin
To breakfree
I let my hands off your shoulders
Stretch them out and scream our names
I wait
For my voice to strike a mountain
And come back to me
But sad
Our names get lost in the air
I bite my lips & you turn back
Your small eyes
A spark of mischief in them
And you gimme goosebumps
I die
When your lips twist
And the smile reaches the whole of your cheeks
Later
I smile to myself
And I pat my back, I've loved a rebel
Dini
“Dini… the sides of your chapattis aren’t baked at all…c’mon this way your mom-in-law will throw you out of her house…”
“And Dini, what is this? You’re getting darker by the minute. I’m getting Garnier Sun Block for you, and you’re having to wear that... okay?”
“What the hell Dini. Facing the computer day in and out, your glasses are getting thicker. I won’t take you to the doc this time around. Nor would I let anyone take you. One should pay for her actions…”
“Be a girl Dini…what is that bird’s nest doing on your head hun? Want to make your hair look like Shakira’s hun? The next thin’ I’m gonna make sure is that poster of hers goes straight to the dustbin…!”
“Wear clothes Dini honey. Not leaves. And I don’t include three-fourths when I say clothes!!!”
“Dini honey, no more chewing gum at home, promise me…sweetie”
“And who is it that you’re stuck to on the phone every night? Not some guy I suppose?”
“Next time we’re having relatives, do me a favor. Fold your hands and utter a namaste before I beg you to. It’s so embarrassing for me to ask you.”
“Dini, leave that paint brush alone, that hasn’t earned you anything in life. And it’ll neither do in future…I bet!”
“Seven mugs of coffee a night will render you insomniac. You know what kinds of health problems await you when you’ll be my age?”
“Your inbox is overflowing Dini. Who’s maddy? And Abby? And all these people I don’t know? Have sane friends please. Call them home for dinner. I’ll tell you which ones not to keep. Bad company is the worst thing that can happen to you now.”
“And stop speaking like Meg Ryan after you’ve seen Harry met Sally for the umpteenth time. We shall have to incinerate the DVD otherwise…”
“Dini…”
“Are you listening to me…? Or just nodding with earphones plugged in? Hmm
??”
“And Dini, what is this? You’re getting darker by the minute. I’m getting Garnier Sun Block for you, and you’re having to wear that... okay?”
“What the hell Dini. Facing the computer day in and out, your glasses are getting thicker. I won’t take you to the doc this time around. Nor would I let anyone take you. One should pay for her actions…”
“Be a girl Dini…what is that bird’s nest doing on your head hun? Want to make your hair look like Shakira’s hun? The next thin’ I’m gonna make sure is that poster of hers goes straight to the dustbin…!”
“Wear clothes Dini honey. Not leaves. And I don’t include three-fourths when I say clothes!!!”
“Dini honey, no more chewing gum at home, promise me…sweetie”
“And who is it that you’re stuck to on the phone every night? Not some guy I suppose?”
“Next time we’re having relatives, do me a favor. Fold your hands and utter a namaste before I beg you to. It’s so embarrassing for me to ask you.”
“Dini, leave that paint brush alone, that hasn’t earned you anything in life. And it’ll neither do in future…I bet!”
“Seven mugs of coffee a night will render you insomniac. You know what kinds of health problems await you when you’ll be my age?”
“Your inbox is overflowing Dini. Who’s maddy? And Abby? And all these people I don’t know? Have sane friends please. Call them home for dinner. I’ll tell you which ones not to keep. Bad company is the worst thing that can happen to you now.”
“And stop speaking like Meg Ryan after you’ve seen Harry met Sally for the umpteenth time. We shall have to incinerate the DVD otherwise…”
“Dini…”
“Are you listening to me…? Or just nodding with earphones plugged in? Hmm
??”Alive!
i'l take ma mind on a long ride
chew the stick of that lollipop till it makes me nauseatic
lie down on ma bed, look at the burst of colors in the sky
tho' i haven' reached a stalemate
life is just a lil sluggish
chew the stick of that lollipop till it makes me nauseatic
lie down on ma bed, look at the burst of colors in the sky
look at the boughs of the old coconut give up to the wind
watch ma skin go up in blisters as the sun pours down
one vehicle after another, spitting smoke on ma face
tho' i haven' reached a stalemate
life is just a lil sluggish
i'm running slow
breathing slow
...& i'm alive...
...& i'm alive...
'coz that's all one can ever be!
PS: If at all I made you think, that this was just another shitty piece of poetry, you're mistaken
what you read was ma 200th post...!
Not Yet...
Am I calling it quits, finally?
Has rhythm abandoned me?
Am I not hungry for peace anymore?
When did I leave that desire to tip-toe thru’ the hours of dawn, on wet sunbathed sand and again turn back to count the toe prints?
But what irks me is why I did so, so passively, so sub-consciously?
Am I giving mundanity an upper hand in my life?Am I letting life carry me away on the same beaten path?
Has rhythm abandoned me?
Am I not hungry for peace anymore?
When did I leave that desire to tip-toe thru’ the hours of dawn, on wet sunbathed sand and again turn back to count the toe prints?
But what irks me is why I did so, so passively, so sub-consciously?
Am I giving mundanity an upper hand in my life?Am I letting life carry me away on the same beaten path?
Whatever happened to the erstwhile me…whatever happened to Wildflower…!
For the girl who chased shadows...
Hey, look at our shadows
Do they look happy?
No, they don't, right?
Or may be they do...
But my shadow looks thinner, hai na?
And an inch or two taller, than I am.
O My hair! It looks like a tree...I hate that.
And you look like a tower.
And this is mischievous yaa'!
You look closer to me there, than you are.
It looks like we are holding hands or something like that.
But we aren't, right?
As we walk into the light
Our shadows dissolve in it
I turn to find you by my side
And see you're not here...
PS: I was sitting alone on that table for two…that sultry afternoon, after a tired day. Sitting alone, not staring at people for a change. I was looking out of the window. At the setting sun from among the leaf-less branches of a tree. I must have had a distant look in my eyes. I wasn’t where I was. So people smiled at me, did I look insane for average human standards?
I had a cup of tea. That couldn’t quench my quest for warmth. I got another. When I left the table, I neatly arranged the two empty cups, and it looked like two people had been sitting there, and talking about life.
Do they look happy?
No, they don't, right?
Or may be they do...
But my shadow looks thinner, hai na?
And an inch or two taller, than I am.
O My hair! It looks like a tree...I hate that.
And you look like a tower.
And this is mischievous yaa'!
You look closer to me there, than you are.
It looks like we are holding hands or something like that.
But we aren't, right?
As we walk into the light
Our shadows dissolve in it
I turn to find you by my side
And see you're not here...
PS: I was sitting alone on that table for two…that sultry afternoon, after a tired day. Sitting alone, not staring at people for a change. I was looking out of the window. At the setting sun from among the leaf-less branches of a tree. I must have had a distant look in my eyes. I wasn’t where I was. So people smiled at me, did I look insane for average human standards?I had a cup of tea. That couldn’t quench my quest for warmth. I got another. When I left the table, I neatly arranged the two empty cups, and it looked like two people had been sitting there, and talking about life.
~###~
Meek?
How meek?
How dumb?
What handicap can drive you to such horrendous depths of ignominy?
Why are you so shut up?
How meek?
How dumb?
What handicap can drive you to such horrendous depths of ignominy?
Why are you so shut up?
Have you lost everything you had?
Don' you have the will to survive further?
Tell me, what is it that is so killing you?
O’er the days, but it is…
C’mon!
Make an effort, darlin’
I’ll see you thru’
Try and make it happen
It's time
My life is a hell lot complicated. No, it can be pretty simple. But it’s me who makes it so complicated. I am amidst horrible people. I am kinda trapped here. And every passing moment I realize their worsening standards. I meet liars, cheats. And I have begun to absolutely despise questions. So I don’t like people asking me who are above mentioned exponents I meet. Things I see, I can’t explain. Things I explain, I don’t see. This is because I have, gradually learnt what it is like to pretend. I so have to pretend, it has become a compulsion.
Am I frustrated ? Yes. Am I am lonely? Yes. Am I looking? No! Not at all… (People please take note.)
Hopelessly romantic? Almost. But excuse me, my notions about love and romance would differ from many of you. So keep all prejudice away. It’s a flame I don’t want to put off. A passion I can’t afford to lose. And no person, alive or fictitious, can ever measure up to my parameters in love. That’s the way it is and so it shall be.
Bold? Yes that I am. The way I think is definitely outlandish according to average standards. I am wild, so an outcaste.
I can talk at a stretch. But I believe that spasms of the facial muscles say more than words.
And there are times, I am so dumbfounded that I might not speak at all. I love to dig into deeper depths of solitude and silence. And this might not be apparent. But true, it is.
I know my lacunae, more than I know my strengths. I know what fails me. And I am so aware of my future, so sans glamour. How dark could it be? Would I be able to figure my own self out in that darkness?
I like to have friends that understand me. And, in fact only a few can do that. But then I cut myself off from them also. And shut myself in my room all over again.
And also, I am the centre of the universe. My universe. And I can't care any less about the rest of it. And that's the way it is...
.......... :)
'Your face is as thought-inducing as a brewing cup of coffee on a foggy winter night'
'Excuse me?'
'Yes, it is'
'Excuse me?'
'Ok, it isn't'
'Why, what happened to that yes?'
'Confess it! You like it when I admire you.'
'Huh!'
'You do, don you?'
'How should it matter when you have already done that do thousands of other women?'
'Really? Who told you that?'
'Why will anybody have to tell me an obvious truth? I know, I just know...Do I look that foolish or something?'
'No, you look beguiling, with all that saintly calm coated all over you and a demure demeanor to floor any man that talks to you'
Nobody talks for a minute
Then he continues...
'Err...allow me to say, I also like the way you raise that right eyebrow, the left one intact. It tells me that you can pounce on me any moment'
'PREPOSTEROUS!'
'Wo'? You're gonna call me names for that?'
'Worse, I'm gonna send you to jail, sue you!'
'That's all?'
'If that doesn shut u up, I'm gonna scratch every part of you with these long nails I've got. Long enough, aren't they?'
'Aw! I can't wait to be...scratched'
'You surprise me with your patience. Hadn't I asked you not to try all your dirty trick on me? Why don you get it? It jus doesn work out'
'You leaving?'
'Or should I stay back for more?'
'But who'l pay the bill?'
and they went on and on...!
'Excuse me?'
'Yes, it is'
'Excuse me?'
'Ok, it isn't'
'Why, what happened to that yes?'
'Confess it! You like it when I admire you.'
'Huh!'
'You do, don you?'
'How should it matter when you have already done that do thousands of other women?'
'Really? Who told you that?'
'Why will anybody have to tell me an obvious truth? I know, I just know...Do I look that foolish or something?'
'No, you look beguiling, with all that saintly calm coated all over you and a demure demeanor to floor any man that talks to you'
Nobody talks for a minute
Then he continues...
'Err...allow me to say, I also like the way you raise that right eyebrow, the left one intact. It tells me that you can pounce on me any moment'
'PREPOSTEROUS!'
'Wo'? You're gonna call me names for that?'
'Worse, I'm gonna send you to jail, sue you!'
'That's all?'
'If that doesn shut u up, I'm gonna scratch every part of you with these long nails I've got. Long enough, aren't they?'
'Aw! I can't wait to be...scratched'
'You surprise me with your patience. Hadn't I asked you not to try all your dirty trick on me? Why don you get it? It jus doesn work out'
'You leaving?'
'Or should I stay back for more?'
'But who'l pay the bill?'
and they went on and on...!
Memoirs of DnD!
I didn’t even blink before I deleted the last message I had sent long ago. I was trying to get over memories, get over a hang-over…get over all my sleepless nights, all my failures. I wished I could start afresh, start anew, start a-numb. I keep my cell phone clean. There is not a single name in my call-list, not a single message in my inbox. I never cease to delete those names because, when I look at those names, I get a feel that there are other people in my life besides myself. And all I want to believe right now is that there is not a soul around me, and I want to really relish being so alone, so-so alone in this world. This, in fact is, the truth.
To want to be taken on a flight, short leaps and jumps in lustful air…falls beyond my reach, for now and forever.
My body wants to hide beneath layers of flesh and blood, the thousand wishes that have perturbed my thoughts for years now. As she has never been as wild as my mind is. Nor will ever be.
My mind needs to be engulfed in a musical silence, and she wants to be carried away, away and away, into unknown terrains of unchartered glee. Everlasting latitude.
But more than that, my mind wants to be left alone for now and forever. I really really want to relish being so alone, so-so alone in this even lonelier world.
I want to be seated on shiny staircases, throughout breezy midnights, and feel my hair brush my back. I want fingers to twirl around fingers, and love to rise back to life, like a phoenix.
Is this lust? If it is, then I lust for more…!
To want to be taken on a flight, short leaps and jumps in lustful air…falls beyond my reach, for now and forever.
My body wants to hide beneath layers of flesh and blood, the thousand wishes that have perturbed my thoughts for years now. As she has never been as wild as my mind is. Nor will ever be.
My mind needs to be engulfed in a musical silence, and she wants to be carried away, away and away, into unknown terrains of unchartered glee. Everlasting latitude.
But more than that, my mind wants to be left alone for now and forever. I really really want to relish being so alone, so-so alone in this even lonelier world.
I want to be seated on shiny staircases, throughout breezy midnights, and feel my hair brush my back. I want fingers to twirl around fingers, and love to rise back to life, like a phoenix.
Is this lust? If it is, then I lust for more…!
In Pursuit of Happyness
'How art thou?'
'Trying to be happy!'
'What?'
'I said trying to be happy...'
'What's that? You're either happy, or you aren't. How can you try to be...happy?'
Hadn't cared much about this statement then. That was way back.
But now,
Yes, one can try to be happy. I am trying to be happy. Precisely because there is no
reason to be...not happy, unhappy, sad.
I have been swaying over whether to write this or not. But let me reveal this once..at least some of it.
Have you heard of withdrawal symptoms? -awkay...U have-
There was a time, when there were many things i wanted to have, at one go. And I
had none of them. I just had hints that i would get them some day.
-is this going very abstract?- -do u get me?-
i chased things...i shed my old aspirations for new ones. i was lost in a hazy maze...
People got to know that i am not as dumb as i look. People got to know that i write.
So many asked me to show my skills by writing them gtalk..messenger status
messages...
Some stooped even lower..asked me write for them..love letters...-okay..this one
was absolutely preposterous-
Many asked me just blurt into a mike...i would stutter and smile but oblige...
Some supposed i am insane- am i not?-
I am loner...so very away from the world i am in...i don't know what's happening right under my nose...
And some days ago, the stress just got too much, i crumbled under the pressure...i
had a complete system breakdown. i would call up my only acquaintance, and cry.
Life started gettin bad to worse. I felt I had nothing. And would have nothing for the rest of my life.
I started having those withdrawal systems.
I-have-had-enough-now
I-shall- sit-back-and-watch
Things went on for some more time. And then one day, i cried just too much. I
caught up with the courage not to care, not to think so much. And surprisingly i liked being that way. And there was this mysterious consolation that
things-will-work-out!
And i decided that i would try to be happy. Little by little, I piled up my efforts. I smiled at people...earlier I din't even look at. I tried to befriend them. I tried to break away from the cocoon I had caged myself in.
I looked down the rusty memory lane. I felt happy. I felt sad. I felt happy-sad. Felt satiated with my hyphenated existence. There are no discrete answers to the
questions of life. Things are a lil fuzzy out here...
There is nothing like...if you're not happy, all you can be is sad...
You can always be trying to be happy...trying to chase the illusion, that happyness
is...
-does this post lack focus?-
-yea-absolutely!-
'Trying to be happy!'
'What?'
'I said trying to be happy...'
'What's that? You're either happy, or you aren't. How can you try to be...happy?'
Hadn't cared much about this statement then. That was way back.
But now,
Yes, one can try to be happy. I am trying to be happy. Precisely because there is no
reason to be...not happy, unhappy, sad.
I have been swaying over whether to write this or not. But let me reveal this once..at least some of it.
Have you heard of withdrawal symptoms? -awkay...U have-
There was a time, when there were many things i wanted to have, at one go. And I
had none of them. I just had hints that i would get them some day.
-is this going very abstract?- -do u get me?-
i chased things...i shed my old aspirations for new ones. i was lost in a hazy maze...
People got to know that i am not as dumb as i look. People got to know that i write.
So many asked me to show my skills by writing them gtalk..messenger status
messages...
Some stooped even lower..asked me write for them..love letters...-okay..this one
was absolutely preposterous-
Many asked me just blurt into a mike...i would stutter and smile but oblige...
Some supposed i am insane- am i not?-
I am loner...so very away from the world i am in...i don't know what's happening right under my nose...
And some days ago, the stress just got too much, i crumbled under the pressure...i
had a complete system breakdown. i would call up my only acquaintance, and cry.
Life started gettin bad to worse. I felt I had nothing. And would have nothing for the rest of my life.
I started having those withdrawal systems.
I-have-had-enough-now
I-shall- sit-back-and-watch
Things went on for some more time. And then one day, i cried just too much. I
caught up with the courage not to care, not to think so much. And surprisingly i liked being that way. And there was this mysterious consolation that
things-will-work-out!
And i decided that i would try to be happy. Little by little, I piled up my efforts. I smiled at people...earlier I din't even look at. I tried to befriend them. I tried to break away from the cocoon I had caged myself in.
I looked down the rusty memory lane. I felt happy. I felt sad. I felt happy-sad. Felt satiated with my hyphenated existence. There are no discrete answers to the
questions of life. Things are a lil fuzzy out here...
There is nothing like...if you're not happy, all you can be is sad...
You can always be trying to be happy...trying to chase the illusion, that happyness
is...
-does this post lack focus?-
-yea-absolutely!-
Palash
One moment I felt so very lonely in this big world.But the void in my life began to fill up as thoughts of Palash trickled into my mind. Palash is everything you would relate everything negative to. He is such a cynic, a misanthrope, a sadist…even then he is as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.
When did I meet him? I saw him wave at me, when I had no one of my own to see me off when I was leaving for a place far away. And after that I found Palash on the empty seat beside me.
I like his shirts tucked in. He likes them hanging lose. Every time after class I would find him standing outside, waiting, I would raise my nose at the shirt so mercilessly abandoned, and he would tuck it half in and half out!
Would mutter…’this is the way you strike that perfect neutral’
When he would loiter throwing groundnut shells everywhere, I would stamp his feet hard reminding him the one thousand three hundred and thirty seventh time not to do so, he would quip ‘Lady, that’s just organic waste’
‘Yeah Organic waste, all that your skull has got in it’
Shrewd looks, naughty winks, irrepressible laughter and sticking your tongue out at those tiny nothings are gestures that Palash and I share.
SMS’ with just a smiley in them, calls at 6 30 in the morning asking ‘Let’s talk?’ are the pleasantries we exchange. We leave the constraints of civilization way behind, when we are together. Palash is the only one who can afford to see me at my wildest best!
I like to twist his ears till they literally detach themselves…I like to be a kindergarten-goer with him, yet he brings out the lady in me…so well.
When I just don’t get his certain words, I would be consoled ‘Accent problem, Madame!’
‘But yours is an attitude problem’
People say he indeed has one attitude problem. People say both of us are loners. But we are always together, aren’t we? And people say so many things…
But Palash continues to remain all that he is, as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.
When did I meet him? I saw him wave at me, when I had no one of my own to see me off when I was leaving for a place far away. And after that I found Palash on the empty seat beside me.
I like his shirts tucked in. He likes them hanging lose. Every time after class I would find him standing outside, waiting, I would raise my nose at the shirt so mercilessly abandoned, and he would tuck it half in and half out!
Would mutter…’this is the way you strike that perfect neutral’
When he would loiter throwing groundnut shells everywhere, I would stamp his feet hard reminding him the one thousand three hundred and thirty seventh time not to do so, he would quip ‘Lady, that’s just organic waste’
‘Yeah Organic waste, all that your skull has got in it’
Shrewd looks, naughty winks, irrepressible laughter and sticking your tongue out at those tiny nothings are gestures that Palash and I share.
SMS’ with just a smiley in them, calls at 6 30 in the morning asking ‘Let’s talk?’ are the pleasantries we exchange. We leave the constraints of civilization way behind, when we are together. Palash is the only one who can afford to see me at my wildest best!
I like to twist his ears till they literally detach themselves…I like to be a kindergarten-goer with him, yet he brings out the lady in me…so well.
When I just don’t get his certain words, I would be consoled ‘Accent problem, Madame!’
‘But yours is an attitude problem’
People say he indeed has one attitude problem. People say both of us are loners. But we are always together, aren’t we? And people say so many things…
But Palash continues to remain all that he is, as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.
Looking for an Alternative-Some pure heart emptying stufF
CAUTION:LONG POST AHEAD! :D
I had a brain storming session and everything in life that is like my staple food immediately shifted to a hazy back ground. Love, the lack of it, solitude, sorrow...frustration everything lost its significance for that sometime. The only thing that blinded me was some kind of a professional slit throat competition. I
lost my capacity to think. I almost lost myself. It was not the usual hopelessness that took over. But there was this blockade that occurred in my brain that prevented me from thinking fast or from thinking at all for that matter. For that sometime the silent musical life I lead looked so distant. The new skin I was supposed to wear looked yet so alien. I din't exactly feeling valueless because I was so trying to
improve myself by analysing my lacunae. But then there were so many things I needed to do...my entire thought process in my mind was like paralysed. I was somewhere where my ingenuine spontaneity ditched me, and ditched me bad. Haven't I had enough of being myself? Just myself. Is the time ripe for introducing things that could make me the person that the profession I have chosen should make me? And by the way, what profession have I chosen for myself? Engineering? Why did I do engineering? Because that was what was the normal course of things after twelfth. And after scoring real bad in it, learning practically nothing out of it, I am wiating for someone to
drop down from the holy heavens and give me a job. And what am I upto now? I am giving entry into a B school, a try. A casual try. I try not to ask myself questions. Things go haywire. Because I never know the answer to these questions. I can't prove myself brave enough to fish in unchartered waters. So I never take that unnecessary risk. Because taking a risk so naturally leads to worrying. And I never wanted to add to my pile of worries, as I happen to be a person with an affinity for the darker things in life. And so strong is my this affinity that I almost like being sad and alone. And for the above mentioned reasons I have never taken risks. Also honestly, before my engineering,I had been subject to some kind of a stress to perform,
and perform somewhat, should I say, par excellence. So performing well takes a non-thinking-and-not-giving-a-damn-fellow via a well beaten path. So I never involved myself in stuff that people generally din't do. So this is where I have landed. A place that looks so much like a dumping ground, where the world dumps unwanted hav-nots. I would be a coolie that could do things that almost 80% of the working
class does. I lack class, I lack vision. I am a rote learner. I never had the guts to take out of my way risks. Most importantly, I am hellishly lazy. I am just one smug person who loves herself very dearly.What are the good things about me? I am spontaneous, and sometimes, out of the box innovative. But my creativity doesn stand
me in good stead when I need it the most. It just pokes its head when I am in the middle of a boring lecture I should be paying attention to. And let me not forget. I am honest too. Honest about my weaknesses. I am honest in criticizing myself. But oh I am so running out of my criticism. I need a capsule or two lateral thinking. How could anybody be so screwed up with the Tom-Dick-Harry whatever way of thinking?
This is not an identity crisis. Because an identity crisis is at times at some abstract level. But I am facing bare truths about myself after a long long time.
Should I have taken the other road? Could I have survived had I picked up humanities...literature? May be not...I have never wanted to do things that have been forced down on me. Anyway, everything would have invariably lead to a failure.
It's not an emotional mess I am in. I am not troubled or anything. But I know I am in a mess. I am conscious of this well thought of disaster that awaits me a few months from now.
May I Rest In Peace
I had a brain storming session and everything in life that is like my staple food immediately shifted to a hazy back ground. Love, the lack of it, solitude, sorrow...frustration everything lost its significance for that sometime. The only thing that blinded me was some kind of a professional slit throat competition. I
lost my capacity to think. I almost lost myself. It was not the usual hopelessness that took over. But there was this blockade that occurred in my brain that prevented me from thinking fast or from thinking at all for that matter. For that sometime the silent musical life I lead looked so distant. The new skin I was supposed to wear looked yet so alien. I din't exactly feeling valueless because I was so trying to
improve myself by analysing my lacunae. But then there were so many things I needed to do...my entire thought process in my mind was like paralysed. I was somewhere where my ingenuine spontaneity ditched me, and ditched me bad. Haven't I had enough of being myself? Just myself. Is the time ripe for introducing things that could make me the person that the profession I have chosen should make me? And by the way, what profession have I chosen for myself? Engineering? Why did I do engineering? Because that was what was the normal course of things after twelfth. And after scoring real bad in it, learning practically nothing out of it, I am wiating for someone to
drop down from the holy heavens and give me a job. And what am I upto now? I am giving entry into a B school, a try. A casual try. I try not to ask myself questions. Things go haywire. Because I never know the answer to these questions. I can't prove myself brave enough to fish in unchartered waters. So I never take that unnecessary risk. Because taking a risk so naturally leads to worrying. And I never wanted to add to my pile of worries, as I happen to be a person with an affinity for the darker things in life. And so strong is my this affinity that I almost like being sad and alone. And for the above mentioned reasons I have never taken risks. Also honestly, before my engineering,I had been subject to some kind of a stress to perform,
and perform somewhat, should I say, par excellence. So performing well takes a non-thinking-and-not-giving-a-damn-fellow via a well beaten path. So I never involved myself in stuff that people generally din't do. So this is where I have landed. A place that looks so much like a dumping ground, where the world dumps unwanted hav-nots. I would be a coolie that could do things that almost 80% of the working
class does. I lack class, I lack vision. I am a rote learner. I never had the guts to take out of my way risks. Most importantly, I am hellishly lazy. I am just one smug person who loves herself very dearly.What are the good things about me? I am spontaneous, and sometimes, out of the box innovative. But my creativity doesn stand
me in good stead when I need it the most. It just pokes its head when I am in the middle of a boring lecture I should be paying attention to. And let me not forget. I am honest too. Honest about my weaknesses. I am honest in criticizing myself. But oh I am so running out of my criticism. I need a capsule or two lateral thinking. How could anybody be so screwed up with the Tom-Dick-Harry whatever way of thinking?
This is not an identity crisis. Because an identity crisis is at times at some abstract level. But I am facing bare truths about myself after a long long time.
Should I have taken the other road? Could I have survived had I picked up humanities...literature? May be not...I have never wanted to do things that have been forced down on me. Anyway, everything would have invariably lead to a failure.
It's not an emotional mess I am in. I am not troubled or anything. But I know I am in a mess. I am conscious of this well thought of disaster that awaits me a few months from now.
May I Rest In Peace
Ash Tray
It must have been hours now that I have sunk into this arm chair. I raise my eyes to figure out the time on the clock. 3 30?
There is smoke everywhere.
It must have been weeks now that I have ever been out of my apartment. What have I been living on?
Left out cereal, smoke and you! Remnants of you rather…
Is a new day about to dawn? I don’t open my windows anymore.
I raise my eyes again. What is it standing near the door? Is it a woman? Is it you?
Just an apparition I know. The woman I see there is a figment of my subconscious. A bit of my subconscious, thrown outside my mind which so much wants to see you again. For one last time.
Should I run to you again and try to hold you, and then find my hands running through nothing but air?
Should I try to make myself believe that it was actually the handle of the door that shone like something else, the shadow of the curtain looked like something else. And all of them, taken together, looked like all I wanted to see. And all I wanted to see was you. For one last time.
Should I squat on that floor and moan again?
I sit here and pick up my umpteenth cigarette tonight, as your shadow near the door continues to be there. I stretch myself. I close my eyes and let the smoke out my nostrils. This smoke would burn all my organs a day, you would’ve said. So, I have no one to nag me after you’re gone!
The ash tray is under a heap of ash now. Should everything catch fire and end up adding to this heap of ash? Should it?
There is smoke everywhere.
It must have been weeks now that I have ever been out of my apartment. What have I been living on?
Left out cereal, smoke and you! Remnants of you rather…
Is a new day about to dawn? I don’t open my windows anymore.
I raise my eyes again. What is it standing near the door? Is it a woman? Is it you?
Just an apparition I know. The woman I see there is a figment of my subconscious. A bit of my subconscious, thrown outside my mind which so much wants to see you again. For one last time.
Should I run to you again and try to hold you, and then find my hands running through nothing but air?
Should I try to make myself believe that it was actually the handle of the door that shone like something else, the shadow of the curtain looked like something else. And all of them, taken together, looked like all I wanted to see. And all I wanted to see was you. For one last time.
Should I squat on that floor and moan again?
I sit here and pick up my umpteenth cigarette tonight, as your shadow near the door continues to be there. I stretch myself. I close my eyes and let the smoke out my nostrils. This smoke would burn all my organs a day, you would’ve said. So, I have no one to nag me after you’re gone!
The ash tray is under a heap of ash now. Should everything catch fire and end up adding to this heap of ash? Should it?
forays into the forbidden...
We just drift apart...
Away and away
And one day, we continue as perfect strangers...
Is that it? This is what a break up is?
From today on, we cease to love each other...Full stop?
We separate because, we fail to understand each other, unlike yesterday...
Or was it a mistake that we ever came together...? Was love a mistake?
We call it off...the buzz stays for a day or two, and then fades into distant memory...
The storm ends, the dust settles down.
How feasible is it for us to wipe it all out, and look for new love?
I know a guy who when they split, wished that she find better love...!
He wrote her a beautiful poem , asking her to remember him, whenever she is awake late in the night, whenever she walked alone in the snow...whenever the raw feel of fresh feelings moistened her heart, if ever again..!
And for those who didn’t feel like commenting on my last post here is something...
.
.
.
.
.
Though the love has left… a remnant remains
It continues to live as a part of me
The story that failed to complete, irks the heart in lonely evenings…
And whenever I feel the petals of a rose pressed neatly somewhere in my diary
And whenever I look at the road that looks so empty
And whenever I feel my pulse, trying to find out if I am alive
But now that it’s high time, people say
I should’ve become indifferent and numb
Even then, the numbness remains…
Love doesn die…
Away and away
And one day, we continue as perfect strangers...
Is that it? This is what a break up is?
From today on, we cease to love each other...Full stop?
We separate because, we fail to understand each other, unlike yesterday...
Or was it a mistake that we ever came together...? Was love a mistake?
We call it off...the buzz stays for a day or two, and then fades into distant memory...
The storm ends, the dust settles down.
How feasible is it for us to wipe it all out, and look for new love?
I know a guy who when they split, wished that she find better love...!
He wrote her a beautiful poem , asking her to remember him, whenever she is awake late in the night, whenever she walked alone in the snow...whenever the raw feel of fresh feelings moistened her heart, if ever again..!
And for those who didn’t feel like commenting on my last post here is something...
.
.
.
.
.
Though the love has left… a remnant remains
It continues to live as a part of me
The story that failed to complete, irks the heart in lonely evenings…
And whenever I feel the petals of a rose pressed neatly somewhere in my diary
And whenever I look at the road that looks so empty
And whenever I feel my pulse, trying to find out if I am alive
But now that it’s high time, people say
I should’ve become indifferent and numb
Even then, the numbness remains…
Love doesn die…
Is it Valentine's Day today?
Guy: Two decades antique.
Newborn poet.
Thinks the ones of his kind are rare,
avoids talking
about his idiosyncratic passions.
Crazy in love.
Pities himself, failure in love's
made him a lot
more cynical
Girl: A year elder than the guy.
Almost Beautiful.
Somewhat visible anorexic dark circles around the small eyes.
Sunsilk hair, looks like it's been thoroughly ironed.
Walks with a gait that particularly makes her waist swing
Doesn't understand the existence of lunatic lovers, pro'ly
And allow me to say kinda sexy? Or well the sub-species of
human females, that men like to be around/
Story: The Guy falls in love( you never rise in love, only 'fall') with the girl at first sight.Doesn't even try to find out about what she exactly is like.
Reasons? No reasons...when when your hormones are running hot, there is no place for reasons.She is a Goddess. The stuff his dreams are made off The next thing he does is write elaborate love letters... send roses her way...
The girl keeps mum, keeps him waiting and guessing.
And this continues, till she finds another stud of a man...
Story Further: Guy has stopped roses and letters, it hurts him to see his lady love go around with the other guy
Time hurts, Love hurts, Life hurts
And he loves that hurt
Because, the thing that you still get hurt, proves that you are still in love
Now: This Valentine's Day, he sends her a card that reads something like 'If you turn back, you will find me waiting where you had left me, alone and gazing at the stars...and definitely writing a poem on you'. It doesn't have his name...just says..Silent Admirer. Does the girl spare that a second thought? We don't know...!
Moral of the Story:
Does this sound like a story to you? It's life. Did the guy waste his precious love on a chic like that? And more importantly, the way he thought her to be one piece of art, did she deserve it? The way he spent sleepless nights, writing her poems...love notes...was all that worth it? And all the hurt he got in return...?
Newborn poet.
Thinks the ones of his kind are rare,
avoids talking
about his idiosyncratic passions.
Crazy in love.
Pities himself, failure in love's
made him a lot
more cynical
Girl: A year elder than the guy.
Almost Beautiful.
Somewhat visible anorexic dark circles around the small eyes.
Sunsilk hair, looks like it's been thoroughly ironed.
Walks with a gait that particularly makes her waist swing
Doesn't understand the existence of lunatic lovers, pro'ly
And allow me to say kinda sexy? Or well the sub-species of
human females, that men like to be around/
Story: The Guy falls in love( you never rise in love, only 'fall') with the girl at first sight.Doesn't even try to find out about what she exactly is like.
Reasons? No reasons...when when your hormones are running hot, there is no place for reasons.She is a Goddess. The stuff his dreams are made off The next thing he does is write elaborate love letters... send roses her way...
The girl keeps mum, keeps him waiting and guessing.
And this continues, till she finds another stud of a man...
Story Further: Guy has stopped roses and letters, it hurts him to see his lady love go around with the other guy
Time hurts, Love hurts, Life hurts
And he loves that hurt
Because, the thing that you still get hurt, proves that you are still in love
Now: This Valentine's Day, he sends her a card that reads something like 'If you turn back, you will find me waiting where you had left me, alone and gazing at the stars...and definitely writing a poem on you'. It doesn't have his name...just says..Silent Admirer. Does the girl spare that a second thought? We don't know...!
Moral of the Story:
Does this sound like a story to you? It's life. Did the guy waste his precious love on a chic like that? And more importantly, the way he thought her to be one piece of art, did she deserve it? The way he spent sleepless nights, writing her poems...love notes...was all that worth it? And all the hurt he got in return...?
Underachievers' Anonymous
Welcome to the world's underachievers refuge!
We are underachievers, We are losers...
We have failed all our lives...
And now we are heavily drunk
Sitting in sleepy solitary corners
Of obsolete noisy pubs
We incessantly clink our glasses
And talk to ourselves
About what could have been
but never happened
We talk about remorse,
about reasons that tied our feet up
We curse spells of bad luck
We envy the winners of the game
We criticize the rules of the world
We are unhappy, and we clink our glasses
We are chattering, and we drink more
And screw ourselves up
We want the dawn to never come
Too shy to face the day light
We are one amongst those people
Swarms of whom throng these places
Craving for hard work, sweat and blood...
Had we sulked and been lazy?
All our lives we have faked happiness
Tonight let's undo everything
Let's wash the shame
Let's be what we are
Let's make ourselves heard
Let our hearts boast about losing
Let our hearts boast about the trials we made
Despite which we lost...
And pep up the mind which still thinks it deserves more & better
We are underachievers, We are losers...
We have failed all our lives...
And now we are heavily drunk
Sitting in sleepy solitary corners
Of obsolete noisy pubs
We incessantly clink our glasses
And talk to ourselves
About what could have been
but never happened
We talk about remorse,
about reasons that tied our feet up
We curse spells of bad luck
We envy the winners of the game
We criticize the rules of the world
We are unhappy, and we clink our glasses
We are chattering, and we drink more
And screw ourselves up
We want the dawn to never come
Too shy to face the day light
We are one amongst those people
Swarms of whom throng these places
Craving for hard work, sweat and blood...
Had we sulked and been lazy?
All our lives we have faked happiness
Tonight let's undo everything
Let's wash the shame
Let's be what we are
Let's make ourselves heard
Let our hearts boast about losing
Let our hearts boast about the trials we made
Despite which we lost...
And pep up the mind which still thinks it deserves more & better
underneath your skin
The million dollar question is how frank are we?
How much of ourselves do we show to the world and
how much do we hide? Despite claiming that we are
born free we are actually tied up in chains,
chains that we ourselves have tied up ourselves
with. Is not secrecy about one’s own self a kind of a
limitation that comes in the way of a free spirit?
How frankly do we expose the hatred that we have
in ourselves for people who induce nothing but
disgust in our minds..?
How delicately are we subject to our instantaneous
bursts of whims? How often have you let the bird of
desire fly out of its cage, out in the open? Should
we let that capricious soul within us die an
uncalled for death?
If we love someone, can we uncork the heart
and talk about it? Despite the not so desirable
consequences...?
If we truly deeply madly admire something/someone what
stops us from confessing?
We were supposed to be free, right?
Afraid of shame, are we?
Do we tremble if anyone points a finger at us in the crowd?
What is wrong about standing apart from the herd of normal
humans, even be it for the conventionally wrong reasons...
After all those reasons are ours. We should stand up for our
reasons. If we don't, who will?
Can't we just stop caring about everything else?
It's all about the Freedom Of Expression, Dammit!
How much of ourselves do we show to the world and
how much do we hide? Despite claiming that we are
born free we are actually tied up in chains,
chains that we ourselves have tied up ourselves
with. Is not secrecy about one’s own self a kind of a
limitation that comes in the way of a free spirit?
How frankly do we expose the hatred that we have
in ourselves for people who induce nothing but
disgust in our minds..?
How delicately are we subject to our instantaneous
bursts of whims? How often have you let the bird of
desire fly out of its cage, out in the open? Should
we let that capricious soul within us die an
uncalled for death?
If we love someone, can we uncork the heart
and talk about it? Despite the not so desirable
consequences...?
If we truly deeply madly admire something/someone what
stops us from confessing?
We were supposed to be free, right?
Afraid of shame, are we?
Do we tremble if anyone points a finger at us in the crowd?
What is wrong about standing apart from the herd of normal
humans, even be it for the conventionally wrong reasons...
After all those reasons are ours. We should stand up for our
reasons. If we don't, who will?
Can't we just stop caring about everything else?
It's all about the Freedom Of Expression, Dammit!
Part II
I lay restlessly on the bed. Changing sides for almost half of the night, I had had enough.
There was hardly anybody I wanted to talk to.
Should I rather talk to myself? I ventured into the corridor. I had left my slippers behind and I could feel the cold floor underneath. I was a little lost as always and had no idea where my feet were taking me.
I was tip-toeing quite confidently into the heart of the night until I don’t know what stopped me.
Holy Shit!
I catch him painting…!
And when I look at his canvas…my eyelids refuse to flap.
The victim of his passion leaves me awestruck, gaping for breath.
I never cared to know, but am I like this ethereal?
Is it bits of me that he has scattered with the paint on his canvas, or something in me that is known only to him?
Hell! She exudes energy…
PS: Aman, this one's for you! LoL
There was hardly anybody I wanted to talk to.
Should I rather talk to myself? I ventured into the corridor. I had left my slippers behind and I could feel the cold floor underneath. I was a little lost as always and had no idea where my feet were taking me.
I was tip-toeing quite confidently into the heart of the night until I don’t know what stopped me.
Holy Shit!
I catch him painting…!
And when I look at his canvas…my eyelids refuse to flap.
The victim of his passion leaves me awestruck, gaping for breath.
I never cared to know, but am I like this ethereal?
Is it bits of me that he has scattered with the paint on his canvas, or something in me that is known only to him?
Hell! She exudes energy…
PS: Aman, this one's for you! LoL
hold me a little longer love/let my sorrow sink into you/and my tears mingle with your lips/let me love you more/hold me a little longer love
when i say i have had enough/tell me i need to live/take my hand/lead me into the wilderness/listen to my silence
build me a house/ stay with me forever/never leave me alone love/never!
look into my eyes/say you will be there/nomatterwhat/and say that again/and again...
let me never feel insecure/abandoned, alone/the only feel that may reside in my heart/should be that of love/your love
assure me that/i would never have to be out there/dying in thirst/in the heat and the sun
promise me that i will /always have your arms/to snuggle upto
nomatterwhat/never let go love/never let go
hold me a little longer love/hold me forever
I-am an everlasting dream
I rolled my eyes down my phone book. I saw my call list, all the numbers I had dialed, all the numbers i had got a call from, all the numbers that I had missed. Now I have not a single person I could call. Just call...
Not a single person, I could meaningfully message. loneliness is so out of fashion man. I am either supposed to be shopping crazy,walking into and into the numerous alleys of some eighteenth century market or laughing up and down the escalators of some splendid mall. Or eating out, somewhere...counting my calories and my cash.
I always have loved being alone though, writing things on my computer, listening to my kind of music, staring at the walls, without quite knowing that I am doing so. Sinking into depths of mushy thought; mulling over things. Or flat imagining, of how things could have been, had life been otherwise. But at times, being lonely is so out of fashion it seems, when you see chicks chatting away on that phone thing, getting away for those infinite walks...to the road near the mountain.
When I stare out of my window, the green highs of the mountain are still a hazy, thought inducing extremity; the cloud hidden peaks are a faint hint of romance for my heart, long solitary walks are for inspiring my indolent self, and keeping a track of myself.
For me life is a distant proposition and love, an impossibility.
Part I
‘So how about getting the lady a lovely new dress?’
I would have sprung off my feet at those words.
And normally say something like ‘Fantastic! Let’s go, get it! What are we waiting for?’
But I had to show that I have my own reservations. Particularly with new comers into my life.
So I remember smiling and saying something like, ‘Mmmm…no. I already have so many’
And then his face evolved an impish smile, ‘A girl can never have so-many dresses, I had heard!’
We laughed that away.
I don’t know what for was he so exceptionally amicable to me. He could have simply treated me like a far off relative, here to see his city. He could have put me up at some hotel, called me home for an occasional dinner, and get done with it. But he would rather see me in a room in his house.
Men at an age like his are conventionally supposed to part from youngsters for their highly screwed up generation Y antics. But he would rather spend his time trying to know what exactly was happening within me.
Was all this because he had been alone all his long life? Or was it because he was an artist?
We were having lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. It’s a mildly sunny afternoon. He eats a little and talks a lot.
Does he at all push his glasses up his nose and behave like that I-am-a-friend-of-your-dad and all? No, he so completely stands apart from that category.
We converse like two age-less people. He is pretty deep as a person. When I am not attentive, I get lost in the contours of his face. His eyes sparkle when he speaks, and he folds his hands on the table when he talks to me.
Is this that young girl fantasizing should I say a ‘middle-aged’ man syndrome? Probably no.
He is just another object of observation. And it is now that I can see beyond his wrinkles…
I would have sprung off my feet at those words.
And normally say something like ‘Fantastic! Let’s go, get it! What are we waiting for?’
But I had to show that I have my own reservations. Particularly with new comers into my life.
So I remember smiling and saying something like, ‘Mmmm…no. I already have so many’
And then his face evolved an impish smile, ‘A girl can never have so-many dresses, I had heard!’
We laughed that away.
I don’t know what for was he so exceptionally amicable to me. He could have simply treated me like a far off relative, here to see his city. He could have put me up at some hotel, called me home for an occasional dinner, and get done with it. But he would rather see me in a room in his house.
Men at an age like his are conventionally supposed to part from youngsters for their highly screwed up generation Y antics. But he would rather spend his time trying to know what exactly was happening within me.
Was all this because he had been alone all his long life? Or was it because he was an artist?
We were having lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. It’s a mildly sunny afternoon. He eats a little and talks a lot.
Does he at all push his glasses up his nose and behave like that I-am-a-friend-of-your-dad and all? No, he so completely stands apart from that category.
We converse like two age-less people. He is pretty deep as a person. When I am not attentive, I get lost in the contours of his face. His eyes sparkle when he speaks, and he folds his hands on the table when he talks to me.
Is this that young girl fantasizing should I say a ‘middle-aged’ man syndrome? Probably no.
He is just another object of observation. And it is now that I can see beyond his wrinkles…
from a nun's bedroom
Is life a journey to finding love?
I believe in the energy of the universe, and the coating of love over the world when I read Paulo Coelho, who many call a fairy tale writer for
adults
He makes me feel weirdly energetic when I roll my eyes down his words
I wonder where all this energy was before?
And where this shall vanish to after I shut the book?
How can someone write things that are miles away from the mundane addictions of man yet be so widely understood?
It makes my mind leap to unknown heights, delve into depths I have never been to
Otherwise I survive on the remnants of my thirst for absolute freedom
Is life a journey in search of the place where Ican be happy forever?
May be...for me it is
Cleansing myself of fears is another thing
The fear of failure, haunts me, makes my life unlivable
I shall find a place where my soul shall dwell in peace, without the shame that many would call me a lunatic after reading this...
That's all!
On Ruhi
These days she spends most of her time in her room.
I have hardly ever seen her downstairs.
God knows what she does in there?
For heaven's sake, is life all about writing those bloody things which no one reads?
Life is about behaving like a normal girl..helping me in the kitchen..
Life is about combing you hair, working hard, clearing competetive exams...earning money..and coming out of that rat hole she lives in!
These days she doesn't even return the calls of her friends..
When asked she says,
'Oh! I don't get to know when time slips out of my hands...
it's not my fault, but u know, I can somehow
never manage to do anything but laze around..'
You either find that soundbox in her room bursting and tearing my ear drums
But at times the music is so soft that I would have to toil that treck up the stairs to her room to find out if she is alive not in a coma.
To my 'Come down and Have lunch babay!'
There would be no respone...
I would scream'Ruhi? Ruhii?'
She would whisper 'Send it up here please'
And when I push her door open, I find her staring out of the balcony.God knows what she finds there.
I remember having argued with her father that we would never need that balcony, there is nothing worth seeing to that side of the house. There is some kind of a jungle, in summer the earth is all cracked up, in monsoon the creepers from it climb upto her room and no matter what she wouldn't let me do anything to them, not even when i threaten her that snakes would find their way up.
And now,that it is winter, the jungle is her laboratory, where she cooks up the fantasies she lives on.
When i take her breakfast up at eight, she makes me feel as if her vision can tear through that impenetrable fog.
Ruhi, can see things she wants to, she has always done that.
And again you would hear me shouting 'Ruhi, babay, Daddy is here..come down and let's have dinner..?'
Sometimes she would honor the ground floor with a visit, most of the times she would not care...
Upstairs, she would be pushed to one side of her bed like an ailing asthma patient, she would be scribbling things in her diary, staring into the dark sky.
Count stars, does she? I never asked..i never could ask.
I don't know where she will end up,i dread the consequences of her life..
May be in the way she lives, she finds the answers to her questions.
The answers that i never could find out in my own long life...
the other side of being me
i pray so that i can live sans fear
i write a lot, but have never written about my faith. i am a theist. i can't prove to you the existence of God, but my feet would shake if i stop believing.
i, apparently, am pretty confident.
But i have too many fears lurking within.
Honestly, so many that i go weary.
Fear of an accident that would stop life from taking its happy course, fear of my loved ones being torn away from me, fear of being hapless, fear of death..
i find it impossible to contain my fears within the walls of my heart.
And i can't admit my fears to the people around me.
Many can't spare their time and others will take me for a lunatic(which i actually am)
So i open up to someone who is always eager to listen to me..God
When i talk to God ( not always it is a one-sided conversation you see, haven't i talked about my sixth-sense earlier?) i feel as if all my fears have vanished for sometime at least.
i pray so that i can live sans fear.
Because i know that living when a fear is killing me from within is not worth it, is it?
i pray because i love you God, deeply, truly, madly.
And though i can't prove that God exists, i can't care any less about it.
May my faith in Him only grow stronger...
almost honest
Why do i get a feeling that everyone is oggling at me?
It's a syndrome that i am a victim of ...i have always wanted to camouflage in the crowd...
There is this fear that i associate with being singled out, being visible...
I dread at the possibilities of emerging from the walls where i live.
At a certain place, everything is going about almost fine and then enter I, centre stage...
I am no ethereal beauty that could floor any man...human, but i am very strange.
I got eyes that are bigger than they should be...and my hair produces oil all by itself, no matter how rough a shampoo i use.
And fate always has it that i turn up wearing THE wrong dress...something that no one else is wearing at the place i am in...
People's stares make my mind cough up words like 'eh? what's wrong with me?'
Fortunately if i let five minutes of time pass...i can again get back to being myself. People stop noticing me... and i begin noticing them...
I LOVE observing things around myself...i would love to wait for a friend at CCD or any public place for that matter...sitting alone on a table gives me the liscence to observe, mull, and then finally choose words that would fit in to describe what i think about those people...Forget it...i confess...i flat stare at people!
Hmmm...I am single though, i like watching couples...! i have had a few posts about my adventures of gazing at drowned-in-the-nectar-of-love twosomes...i try to figure out the chemistry that binds them together. Love is an all time beautiful thing to me. And the naive victims of my gaze are so much busy in fathoming each other...that they don't get the slightest idea that their emotion is literally quenching my aesthetic hunger..whateverthatmeans!
And about the quotes on T-shirts of guys...Oh! they are the things i am the second most obsessed with...( my first obsession is me!) I go nuts about reading those quotes and later laughing to myself...i do what not , i die to look at the T-shirt till i am able to read it completely...and comprehend it and laugh at it. And the poor guy thinks it was him i was staring it...:)
Well here is another confession...i also spare my stares for those marvellous masterpieces i have blogged about earlier. I indulge myself...never deny myself anything that 'I' ask for...I passionately admire anything i love... But at the end of the day...I am the apple of my I.
It's a syndrome that i am a victim of ...i have always wanted to camouflage in the crowd...
There is this fear that i associate with being singled out, being visible...
I dread at the possibilities of emerging from the walls where i live.
At a certain place, everything is going about almost fine and then enter I, centre stage...
I am no ethereal beauty that could floor any man...human, but i am very strange.
I got eyes that are bigger than they should be...and my hair produces oil all by itself, no matter how rough a shampoo i use.
And fate always has it that i turn up wearing THE wrong dress...something that no one else is wearing at the place i am in...
People's stares make my mind cough up words like 'eh? what's wrong with me?'
Fortunately if i let five minutes of time pass...i can again get back to being myself. People stop noticing me... and i begin noticing them...
I LOVE observing things around myself...i would love to wait for a friend at CCD or any public place for that matter...sitting alone on a table gives me the liscence to observe, mull, and then finally choose words that would fit in to describe what i think about those people...Forget it...i confess...i flat stare at people!
Hmmm...I am single though, i like watching couples...! i have had a few posts about my adventures of gazing at drowned-in-the-nectar-of-love twosomes...i try to figure out the chemistry that binds them together. Love is an all time beautiful thing to me. And the naive victims of my gaze are so much busy in fathoming each other...that they don't get the slightest idea that their emotion is literally quenching my aesthetic hunger..whateverthatmeans!
And about the quotes on T-shirts of guys...Oh! they are the things i am the second most obsessed with...( my first obsession is me!) I go nuts about reading those quotes and later laughing to myself...i do what not , i die to look at the T-shirt till i am able to read it completely...and comprehend it and laugh at it. And the poor guy thinks it was him i was staring it...:)
Well here is another confession...i also spare my stares for those marvellous masterpieces i have blogged about earlier. I indulge myself...never deny myself anything that 'I' ask for...I passionately admire anything i love... But at the end of the day...I am the apple of my I.
mez havin a writer's block!
We want to have no memories
Of days when we
Stood in the rain
Under sky high trees
And even then
Almost half bathed ourselves
Of days when we
Stood in the rain
Under sky high trees
And even then
Almost half bathed ourselves
A Long Story
She saw a missed call from an unknown number. Called back to ask who.
'Hello, koun bol rahen hain?'
'Aap koun?'
'Aap ne call kiya tha, aap ko pata hoga main koun!'
'But abhie to aapne call kiya hai'
'Very funny!'
She hung up!
She got a call again. She girded her loins...She will show him some fun now.
'What is it that you want?'
'Pehle pehchaan koun?'
'What rubbish!'
She was about to disconnect out of sheer disgust,out of her apathy towards people who trouble innocent girls via phone.
Then she heard something like this
'Arrey main yaar...kamaal hai...tu to ekdum bhool hi gayi!'
Her heart missed a beat. Till that day she had called back every unknown-number-missed-caller begging God it should be him.
Was it him? Him? Him?
'Koun?' she whispered...
'Main yaar...(we keep the first name a secret)...(we also keep the last name under covers...)'
Time stopped. Her palms went sweaty, forehead was burning. She didn't know whether to be happy...or nervous...or impersonal..
Her breathing took a pause...
It took a minute for her to gather herself and behave as if she had never expected him to call... It was raining and thundering
outside. That didn't matter..nothing mattered...she was carried into a land faraway. That moment she had everything she wanted.
Wonder why he always called up when there was a storm outside...there were many story summer afternoons then...Could be because he
had nothing better to do...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Days passed by. Storms went by. He didn't call again...
Her heart learned to cry again. It writhed in anguish again. It tore itself apart into pieces and pieces. Her heart brooded
about the futility of further existence.
But look at her mind. The mind thought of exploiting her plight. It squeezed her pain to make words out of it. Her mind made
her write and write consoling her that she would be able to come out of it one day is she wrote it all out! But she never
overcame anything, she could never wipe out the occurrence of that phone call two years ago...that stormy summer afternoon.
The heart was like a naive orphaned child. How shrewd could her mind be...how selfish...how cruel...how...
She wondered how the two of them, her heart and mind coexisted between the boundaries of the same body...
Her heart was so much like herself...and her mind, it was so much like that people...people who know how to churn a name
out of every exploitable source...
She wrote about her pain...people read. She accumulated accolades... Her mind liked it all.
Did anyone ask her heart? The ovation and the praise did nothing to better its situation. It writhed in anguish forever.
'Hello, koun bol rahen hain?'
'Aap koun?'
'Aap ne call kiya tha, aap ko pata hoga main koun!'
'But abhie to aapne call kiya hai'
'Very funny!'
She hung up!
She got a call again. She girded her loins...She will show him some fun now.
'What is it that you want?'
'Pehle pehchaan koun?'
'What rubbish!'
She was about to disconnect out of sheer disgust,out of her apathy towards people who trouble innocent girls via phone.
Then she heard something like this
'Arrey main yaar...kamaal hai...tu to ekdum bhool hi gayi!'
Her heart missed a beat. Till that day she had called back every unknown-number-missed-caller begging God it should be him.
Was it him? Him? Him?
'Koun?' she whispered...
'Main yaar...(we keep the first name a secret)...(we also keep the last name under covers...)'
Time stopped. Her palms went sweaty, forehead was burning. She didn't know whether to be happy...or nervous...or impersonal..
Her breathing took a pause...
It took a minute for her to gather herself and behave as if she had never expected him to call... It was raining and thundering
outside. That didn't matter..nothing mattered...she was carried into a land faraway. That moment she had everything she wanted.
Wonder why he always called up when there was a storm outside...there were many story summer afternoons then...Could be because he
had nothing better to do...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Days passed by. Storms went by. He didn't call again...
Her heart learned to cry again. It writhed in anguish again. It tore itself apart into pieces and pieces. Her heart brooded
about the futility of further existence.
But look at her mind. The mind thought of exploiting her plight. It squeezed her pain to make words out of it. Her mind made
her write and write consoling her that she would be able to come out of it one day is she wrote it all out! But she never
overcame anything, she could never wipe out the occurrence of that phone call two years ago...that stormy summer afternoon.
The heart was like a naive orphaned child. How shrewd could her mind be...how selfish...how cruel...how...
She wondered how the two of them, her heart and mind coexisted between the boundaries of the same body...
Her heart was so much like herself...and her mind, it was so much like that people...people who know how to churn a name
out of every exploitable source...
She wrote about her pain...people read. She accumulated accolades... Her mind liked it all.
Did anyone ask her heart? The ovation and the praise did nothing to better its situation. It writhed in anguish forever.
home
I’m going home
I miss the dust of my streets
I miss looking at the mellow morning sun
I miss my mother’s lap
I miss crying till my heart’s at ease all alone in sultry afternoons…
The river would have washed away the temples I had made with wet sand
I miss staring innocently into the infinite unknown
So much used to be unknown then
Unknown, Obscure and yet to be achieved
I’m going home
My tears have waited enough
But it’s been so long
I’ve forgotten the way back
Someone tell me where home is…
I miss the dust of my streets
I miss looking at the mellow morning sun
I miss my mother’s lap
I miss crying till my heart’s at ease all alone in sultry afternoons…
The river would have washed away the temples I had made with wet sand
I miss staring innocently into the infinite unknown
So much used to be unknown then
Unknown, Obscure and yet to be achieved
I’m going home
My tears have waited enough
But it’s been so long
I’ve forgotten the way back
Someone tell me where home is…
in the shadow of the stars...
WARNING! LONG POST AHEAD!
Dear Adam, (Point wise would be better)
*As I saw you riding away, I don’t know why but my heart twitched in pain. This could have been because I had placed you in it as the ideal man. The only man. My Adam.
*You were all I could ask from life, the materialization of all the day dreams that my mind had mulled over since adolescence.
*No one had ever ventured into this proximity of my heart where you lived.
*When you spoke, all my senses numbed. When I stared at you, everything else about me ceased to exist but my eyes. I saw the way you said your words, distinctly, with your own fresh style. I literally drank those moments up, when you talked about fun, about life, about the movie-‘The Pursuit Of Happyness’- I gaped at the free spirit you housed.
* The way the hair on your chest showed when you left that second button open, and my mind strayed to the places where it shouldn’t have. The smartness, the over-smartness rather…I became a fanatic of everything about you.
*Things I related you with were of the kinds of fun, I always ‘pretended’ I had a crush on you…Funny! Isn’t it? Hmmm…You kept the fires of my heart burning when there was a drought everywhere around! Never had I imagined, I would be so frozen with poignance the moment I saw you leaving forever.
*When you are gone, I would always remember with glee the moments of trance that entrapped me when you were around, and my shock the moments when I discovered that you are a Bengali and when I realized that it was the last time I saw seeing you!. Also the giggles would come back to me, the giggles that had erupted when I discovered that the initials of your name are A & D and I christened you ADAM forever! La!
***I have fallen in love many times, with many men. So love comes easy to me. But I never fell in love with you. Wonder how paradoxical it is to meet Mr. Right and not succumb to the sweet pain that love is.
May be I have achieved some kind of say over the philandering whims of my heart. Some kind of equilibrium that comes only with time!
May be she loved him. He was unaware.
When he sat beside her on her bed, she was busy typing away on her computer. But she was only pretending. All that time, she had been crying. Craving for a shoulder to lean on and cry more.
When she sensed him rustle the air around her, she turned to him and leaned. On him. This happened involuntarily.
Her tears wet his shirt. Astonished, he didn’t know what to do. He softly ran his palm on her back, afraid of hurting her. She felt like a flower in his arms.
There is a difference between hugging and leaning, we all know. The former involves more warmth and some steam. And lust at times. Leaning is more abstract a thing; more emotional than physical. It is she resting her head full of troubles on his sturdy shoulders.It involves relief and satiety. It is a subtle confession of what he meant to her.
When he sat beside her on her bed, she was busy typing away on her computer. But she was only pretending. All that time, she had been crying. Craving for a shoulder to lean on and cry more.
When she sensed him rustle the air around her, she turned to him and leaned. On him. This happened involuntarily.
Her tears wet his shirt. Astonished, he didn’t know what to do. He softly ran his palm on her back, afraid of hurting her. She felt like a flower in his arms.
There is a difference between hugging and leaning, we all know. The former involves more warmth and some steam. And lust at times. Leaning is more abstract a thing; more emotional than physical. It is she resting her head full of troubles on his sturdy shoulders.It involves relief and satiety. It is a subtle confession of what he meant to her.
KP Special!
I dyed my fingers in flowers for youTheir color faded as they yearned for your touch
Every winter when the tree burst in full bloom
And the road leading home became fragrant with promises
All the while walking back alone
I peeped coyly from amongst my hair
To see if it was you, tiptoeing beside me
Every time it rained
And it got duskier and darker
The drops came down
And trickled down my window
I have wanted to feel you close, very close
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