yasp 8

Everytime you forget to call, I am gonna patiently wait for you..without freaking out
I am gonna keep reminding you, honey, until you remember
And I am gonna beam when you smile in return
I won't let go easy, not so easy, ever again..
As I blush under your glance
I promise, I am gonna make sure
That we are happy, with each other
That at the end of the day,
We would be dying to see each other again
And share all that happened day through
And we would go for walks, long ones
But I swear darl, we wills top when you want.. :)
whenever, wherever

Stingy nomore,
Now I am ready to pay the price of love

Nah, I'm jus kiddin~! 


PS: U know what yasp is for right!?

sloshed.

My Dear Daughter,

I don't know if you will ever read this, but right now I have to make a confession, to you.This moment, 1:06 pm, July 11th, 2010, I hate myself. And I want you never to become the person I am now. Because until yesterday I always thought being like me is the best thing, wild & free. But looks like those things lead to bad things that make you write to your future/non-existent daughters. So I am making a correction.

I have driven my life to a point from where I have nowhere to go. I am not depressed. But honestly, I know no direction in which I can head. I am not confused, I am sure that I have reached rock bottom. And so I am writing this letter to you. Become anyone but me, sweetie.

Following free will is good I thought. I never drew lines because I found drawing lines the hardest thing. I dictated the rules of my life. Or rather I had no rules. But that I realize is not the best idea. I have so many skeletons in the closet that it will burst open any moment now. And no matter how liberal you are, and however determined you are never to regret, never to be guilty of your actions, you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

I don't know if one day you will be for real, because I have begun believing that I don't deserve good things like you in my life. But one day, if I have you, if at all, we are going to have this long conversation, we are probably going to draw some lines for you. Probably.

Love,..
Your future Mom..

rela\pse

It takes getting used to. Words change their meanings. Sometimes you don't know if there is anything left you could still talk about. The set of your topics shrinks so much. The change is unbearably abrupt. Nah! it is quite bearable, but having a relapse is just too tempting. The boundaries of human patience are pushed to degrees where they just might give away. It is ridiculous I know, but loneliness eats into your cerebellum. It gets so fucking pathetic that it could kill your being. Memories make frequent visits, like unwanted guests.

Love has all these tantrums before it empties your heart. Like a tenant that never paid any rent and wouldn't get out either. You chose to end it because it wouldn't go anywhere. You chose to end it because you thought you deserved better than the ache.

You chose to end it and tried so much, so much to make life normal and possible without love. You would get back to smoking if it gave you another mere engagement. You talked to walls. You cried your pillow wet when alone, screamed at friends who had no idea what the hell you were going through. All that, just to move on. But even after all that self imposed penance, a relapse seems so easy. So easy, what soft putty are human hearts made of, tell me somebody!

It takes getting used to. It takes time, and quite a lot of it.

Terminal.

She looked me in the eye. Held me with them for a few seconds before looking away. She must have been thinking about this deeply. About me, deeply. I felt like asking her if I was troubled for real. Then that urge got very urgent. As she was looking away, she looked peaceful. Strands of long shiny hair fell on her face, she didn't care enough to tuck them behind her ears. It was sunny and windy. And when it is both sunny and windy, there is always an impending danger in the air. I came back to my coffee.

This had been happening for the last two months with me. May, June and now consistently running into its third, July. Every morning after opening my eyes, I felt a constant aching pain. Initially it was but obvious, the hurt after the accident. It stayed for the morning, disappeared by lunch. Sometimes when I got busy, I would totally forget about the pain. Later I would have to squeeze myself to find out if it still pained. By the time dusk appeared, it would find its way back to me. Definitely; without fail. Late in the night it would make me weep, curse myself. I would make promises to myself not to drag this any further and visit the doc the first thing in the morning.

Meanwhile, I changed six doctors. They would tell me nothing is the problem with me. They would ask me to engage my mind in other things. In anything I want to. But not think about the pain. Not worry about it the way I did. I failed in explaining to them, how on earth was I supposed to not think of it while it was the only thing irking the insides of my mind. Thinking wasn't as voluntary a process as they thought, I thought. They would tell me that I was just fine, I knew I wasn't. So I changed them. My table was cluttered with empty bottles of tonics, strips of tablets, prescriptions, my test reports. When I looked at them I felt sick. Very sick.

People I knew, started looking at me as someone who had been ill for years. Their concerns felt nosy sometimes, relieving some other times, indifferent the rest of the time. But they always felt obvious, like I was meant to be asked about my illness. Everyone knew. Many asked me what the hell the problem was. And wanted me to get a serious doc. Suggestions too came pouring in. Those helped me switching doctors.

I called my doctors up, they would stop taking my calls. They wouldn't return them even in the rarest of chances. When this happened, I got scared. Scared because, I had a disease, they didn't have a cure for. I would die.I was terminal. And they were avoiding me. So I called on her, and stared at her, at her hair fly in the windy sunny morning. Waiting to ask her if I would live.

Abandoned

The first time you left me, I was angry. My uncontrollable rage wouldn't even let me ask for your reason. I was mad at me and my fate because of which I lost you. I kept asking myself, how could anyone forget anyone so easily? Was forgetting that easy a process after all? Teach me someone! Because I have serious problems forgetting certain people in my life. So many why's popped up inside my head, but my heart was ashamed. I cried myself to sleep, bit my lips, trying to overcome this unknown emotion, but I didn't try to confront you. Rather I stared at the horizon, waiting hopelessly for time to answer my questions.

The second time you abandoned me, I was almost in love with you. I was heartbroken. I wouldn't look at my face in the mirror because somewhere deep down I felt it was because of me that you had left me. I was the reason, for the betrayal, for my own estrangement. Some undiscovered flaw in me, or a pretty obvious one had made you hate me. I looked into myself, I got lost. I kept blaming myself, I wanted to cure the flaw, call you back, at any cost. I was so distressed, I indulged. In long walks, got lost amongst strangers, kept taking pictures to keep my mind off you. My life froze, completely. There was no way I could console myself. I was heartbroken.

The third time you left without a notice, I was expecting to see your face the first thing in the morning, probably give you a good morning kiss. A moist one, with the remnants of the dreams that I had seen in the night, of us. But you had left. Then I went on an indiscriminate shopping spree. At the end of the day it dawned on me that you are only incredibly stupid. Incredibly stupid to leave me. Or may be you are a trifle insane too. So this time around, I let you leave.

sos!

I was looking for a decent get away, an alibi that could arrest my mind and keep it out of my bounds. My present state of life, was eating into it, ravenously. And it had to make desperate attempts to save itself. Desperate desperate attempts. So I locked myself in a room and began watching Desperate Housewives. Season after season, mornings, afternoons, latenights, evenings..I passively glared at the screen, into the lives of the four most bitchiest women.

They have every possible scandal rocking their lives, extra-martial affairs, wild sex lives, paralyzing divorces, runaway teenage kids, murderous husbands, murdered husbands, boyfriends who murdered those husbands, jailed husbands, relapses into ex-lovers, suicidal neighbors, darkest secrets to keep, talking neighbors, somewhere a surplus of kids, somewhere infertility, struggling marriages, sleepless nights, dinner parties, drinking problems, jeopardized work-lives, money, lots of it and last but not the least, that impossible wish and will to keep things under control, the obsession to drug the mind that they can manage it all. I am awed.

Sometimes, to escape your own unhappiness, you need to know that others around you are unhappy too. This is where it clicked for me. When I peeked into their lives, I know they are all unreal, even then, I got to know just that, there is so much unhappiness around me. Each one is desperate enough to escape it. And is making desperate desperate attempts to save their lives. And why? Ain't you even doing that?

For the uninformed: sos! is for Save Our Souls

onyourfeet

it had been drizling all day long, she had stayed home, listening to ridiculous music
the day was decent, a broken leg, cereal for breakfast, cereal for lunch
the only oddity was that two old acquaintances had called and were sorry to listen about the leg
the accident that is,

it's unnerving how some incident, silly incident could turn life upside down
upside down for sometime, after which it certainly returned to normal
a new kind of normal that is, a normalcy with a certain realizations in place
she was walking across the road to get detergent, a mundane thing like detergent!

what was she thinking? problems at work, stupid boss, a stagnating resume
lack of time, she hadn't talked to her folks, for days
the guy in her life wasn't ready to move ahead, not even an inch
she was entangled, forgetting that it could get worse

only it did..
crossing the highway was like a favorite passtime, twice, thrice she did it
when someone made her wait for long, it was child's play
but who knew? who knew, she would get hit running across the street
to get detergent, she did her laundry at home, by herself, she loved the smell of clean things.

for the last two weeks, she stayed home like a log of wood, staring out of the window
wondering why had it happened, did it happen at all? wasn't this just a nightmare?
but as time passed, more of it, it settled into her, the gravity of the crashlanding
and that how much more better off she was than this
at least she wasn't stuck as literally as this..

it is pathetic, yes for the lack of a harsher word
how we never realise what we have until we lose it (with the understandable exception of body weight!)
like her leg, temporarily though
i hope she gets back on her feet, with some realisation, the only hard earned fruit of life

until she loses it obviously again, and life screws her only harder so that she earns it once again
you see..life is such a viscious cycle! duh!

I am writing this for the lack of a better engagement, at 4 o'clock in the night. Excuse me if you didn't get it or got bored as hell.

stories from neverland!

the mind and the body are like Siamese twins. only death does them apart. this bond that binds them should be respected. they cannot stay uninvolved in each other's business. sometimes the body enslaves the mind. sometimes the mind asks the body to shut up and obey. figuring out a path of non-alignment towards either is difficult. 

oh this sounds funny already. but i will write this out anyway. 

each has a wish of its own. the mind's wish is like a longing, the body's is called desire. . they start looking for a common point of culmination. and if they don't find one, then life gets messed up. 

this was just fyi..  

25% of me

So I have been tagged. And I have to write 25 things about myself. 25 is a huge number..
But, PFB:

1. I am a loner, and as is the case with loners, I have never given my friends the importance they deserve in my life. Lately, I have realized that I should, mend my ways.
2. I always wanted a teddy for myself. But then put the thought away as I thought it would occupy too much space on my bed. I need a lot of space, you see. And I love sleeping alone. But my friend got me one, and I am doing a lot of teddy-talking these days. You could suggest names for it, if you want.
3. I keep practicing detachment all the time. I keep telling myself everything is non-permanent. Whenever I see myself in a position fearing my life without a certain thing/person, I immediately step back and see the whole situation from a broader perspective. So the thing/person leaves me? So what? You know, you have no idea about the degree to which the human mind can adapt.
4. I love brownie ala mode at Baskin Robins. I don't like SubWay that much.
5. I love wearing skirts. I don't love wearing stilettos, I have never tried them really. This is to let you know that I am very down to earth. I am getting a pair of sexy stilettos for myself asap, by the way.
6. I track the readers of this blog. Because, when I get a hint that someone read a 50 posts here, I want to find out who was it. What went through his mind. Let's not be sexist, her mind. What held them on for so long.
7. In relationships, I am the craziest person you would have ever known. I am this exorbitantly demanding, insanely jealous, impossibly possessive, unruly like a thirteen year old kid, I myself would slap when I am sane.
8. I paint my toes.Not my finger-nails. I rarely do the former anyway. But I always paint them black, whenever I paint them.
9. I love going out alone. I am so used to it that now I love it. I love to see the expression on the face of the waitress everytime I ask for a table for one! You mean a table for two?
10. But sometimes, I like to have a nice conversation with a person on the other side of the table for two. With candles between us, floating on water, along with rose petals. I got very specific with this one didn't I.
11. Most of the stuff I put up on this blog is true. It is all based on my experience. Some are a little inspired from imaginations. But sadly, very very sadly, most of them are all about what I have been through, in flesh and blood.
12. I love hot showers. I love them, can stand in them for hours. I have done that, my skin gets wrinkles after that, but that doesn't deter me. I love hot showers in summer too.
13. I am the closest to being me when I am lost in thought.
14. I am yet to experience quarter life crisis. Or may be I have lived through it. But I am definitely not having it now.
15. I never regret. Sometimes I forcibly stop myself from regretting. I don't even regret the worst things I have done in my life. They continue to live within me, as nondetachable parts of me. And I want the day never to come when I would regret them.
16. I know, being in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.
17. I think I am ugly. As in, not beautiful. Sometimes I blame everything that is wrong with my life on my not being beautiful. I know it's not fair, but it's an old habit.
18. My best friend is my pin cushion. I fall back on her whenever I need to. I would have married her had it not been for my gender/sexual orientation.
19.  I believe, 25 is a huge number.
20. I love purple. The more I realize this, the more I find out how much purple I have shopped for unconsciously. Purple three-fourths, purple T's, purple earrings. I only need to get purple shoes!
21. I always wanted to write with an ink pen. It is a very fulfilling act. I got myself one, it didn't work properly. And I got back to typing my heart out. But when I write a book, (this is not funny :P) I might have to revert to the ink pen, and quit/pause writing this blog for sometime/altogether.
22. Every person has an influence they have grown up with. I have none. I have no idols in life. No moral standards that the society has set for people to follow. I could try anything, if my heart wishes to. Just about anything!
23. My childhood has an enormous impact on the person I am. And what makes me more conscious of it is that all of that impact is unconscious. Yes, the incidents of my childhood hold my subconscious hostage. I get possessed when I try to remember.
24. I am wondering, if you have reached this far :P ?!
25.  The person who has tagged me, I have been friends with for the last 5 years. 5 years is a long time. Scary long. And we have been friends despite me, despite him.

And I tag no-one! Aren't you relieved?

a held thought

i used to be 9. nine. i was made to wear frocks that ended somewhere between my knees and my feet. and they had sleeves made of net, and were mostly red. my hair used to be short, like that of a boy. sometimes it used to grow in wild curls below my shoulders before being mercilessly cropped again. i used to play with dolls. rather, i used to live with them. i talked to trees. stare at the sky, sometimes blue sometimes black. i used to be scared of ghosts. my house had elaborate beds, they had designs cut out on them, i used to look through them, you know i am failing at explaining this to you. it is beyond my words now.

there would be places on the dressing table that has smudges of wax, remnants of a burnt candle, i used to play with. and in the monsoons, the muddy roads used to give way and form puddles i had to jump across. paper boats, i loved making them, i used to fill them with petals before leaving them afloat. one such day in the middle of monsoon, we were to see a certain girl. yes, with the intention of marriage, for an uncle of mine. 

and monsoons also were treacherous. when the incessant rain stopped for a while, it got so sunny that you sweat, but the puddles din't dry up. it used to be hot and wet, both. we set out, all of us, grannys, aunts, dozens of cousins, packed in a smoky old white ambassador, to see the girl. the first gust of smoke from the rickety vehicle would arouse my ever dormant nausea, make my head go round and round. they would make me sit on someone's lap near the window of the car, so that i could take in all the breeze and keep all the vomit inside.

so i started talking to myself again, and also to the trees i saw, like i always did. the road was a straight one, by the side of a canal, that was brimming full of muddy rain water. everywhere there was lush green, the smell of waiting rain the air. and there were trees everywhere, the kinds i had never seen, banyans over hundred years old, with pronounced aerial roots, i couldn't tell which one was the real one. in the midst of journey, the mighty old ambassador would have to screech to a halt, because one of the babies had to pee. 

it was an afternoon, herds of cattle were being led back home, on the way. we were headed to see the girl. somewhere in her purse, grandmother hid an ancestral ring of gold which she would slide up the girl's middle finger, is she seemed to like her. i wondered what the ring looked like, whether it had red stones on it.

the first thing i did after i saw the girl, was to never leave her side. and i said aloud to everyone, look, she has such long hair.

note to the reader: writing a post like this is difficult for me because it is difficult trying to get the perfect words to paint the picture i want to. i wrote this because i wanted to. i don't know how well i could recreate that bygone time.

Privilege of Chaos

Sometimes Red loses its significance. It merges with the background and keeps itself from being seen. It has a mind of its own. It does as it feels it should. Red is for love. Red is for anger too.

Lately, I have been angry a lot. And this has been taking a huge toll on me, because I have not yet found out who or what am I angry on. So as is the usual, I choose to blame it on my destiny. But it's just not fair to do that. Destiny would be a lame reason for my unhappiness. It is not a reason at all. The reason behind all my emotions is me.

I am alone, because I choose to be alone. I choose to draw a sphere around me where every other being is prosecuted for trespassing! I have chosen personal space over company. So much space, so much of it that it feels like a void now. But nevertheless, it is my choice. There would pros and cons of everything and I should be flexible enough to accept. And not to grumble over it. But the problem is I do. I want only the goodies and not the unpleasant side effects that come along with the goodies. I am looking for a way to sort this out. It will be good if I figure a way out before it drives me crazy!

Love? I have chosen self over love. Yes finally. Probably, there is no such thing as love. It could be just an illusion people worship for the whole of their lives. It is very hard to draw those lines. Between liking a man and wanting to keep him for life. It's difficult. It is very hazy. If I try to find out what love is, I never find it out. If I care not about the definition and just fall into it, let it enslave me, then my heart breaks. I think I should drop the topic altogether and take a break.

So this is it. Writing has been the only constant in my life for long. I want it to stay, that's the only thing I am sure about. For everything else, there is the privilege of chaos!

escaping the obvious

can the truth be forgotten for one night?
can i come back to you for tonite?
i promise, i will get away before u're up in th morn..
can we forget the split? like i sometimes daydream about..
like nothing happened, and be happy as ever
can we ditch the present, care not about the future
and slip into th past, just for tonite..darl..
the corner in your bed, that belonged to me,
can i have it again, just for tonite?

can i brush my fingers thru your hair?
and kiss your chin..?
and watch you sleep..
can i see you tonite?
one time, one last time
can i love you tonite?

my sweethearrt, my chocolate pie, my baby..

hmm..

the sound of shattering glass

 It is just a story I want you to know. I want to trade a secret with you. Sometimes people confuse intimacy with physical intimacy. It is not that. I read this somewhere. Intimacy is trading of secrets in the dark. I have been very intimate with you. I have been you. And you have been me. Yes, me. In the moments we did that, we were intimate. But the day broke before we could trade all our secrets. The darkness ditched us, you and me. Our story couldn't end. It is broken, unfinished. I couldn't tell you many things I feel I should have. And I definitely wanted to know you more. Oh, so much more. I have moved into a new place. Change is the hardest thing to take in such circumstances. I don't go out of my room much. I stay in here and imagine I am with you. I part my curtains to play with the wind-chime that hung from your window. And I don't find it. There are these pangs that my heart feels it wouldn't survive, any longer. A feeling of a sudden loneliness, a realization that happens only again and again. When I part the curtains, to look out of the window, I see a graveyard. When I wake up in the night, crying, I stare at the graveyard where the dead lay, in forced peace. I secretly look at them, so that they don't get to know that I am looking. I wonder if they walk at night. I wonder if I could talk to them. I want to stay shut and scream aloud at the same time. I say I hate you and I love you in the same breath. I do. I had started writing about something else, and have ended up having written about something entirely different. But I will let this go, like I let everything else go. Like I let you go. My secrets suffocate me thesedays that I have noone to trade them with. So much that I want to talk to ghosts. Yeah..


Anyway..

taking to wings!

begins with a D, and hard to pronounce, that's where I worked. I will remember walking like a zombie with earphones plugged in my ears, like the songs are playing inside my head and I could only see a world that doesn't speak, at all; the fresh gust of AC from Ernst & Young, before I walked into my office, the shh-d the bays in there, that me saying hi's to outright strangers in the bus-stop, confusing them with the people I met the day before, and watching that look of total confusion form on their faces, yeah, I actually did things like that! Texting and walking, Texting and walking..not being able to make out absolutely real stones on my path, tripping over, spraining my leg, and all that! Love, ridiculously exorbitant phone bills, a broken heart, attempted nursing, all that! Walking by the sea, sitting by it for hours, with a friend who I know doesn't understand me, and nor he ever would, but still a great friend, the lack of emotional proximity, sometimes makes way for the discovery of the person inside me I thought I never was. Fantastic weekends, intoxication, exotic cuisine (?), intoxication again, yeah, a lot more, things I couldn't probably write down about here.. I had great company to choose from :).. And it was a privilege you know to get lost in a city, turn around, and see not a face you know, heaven! Late night walks, early morning walks, sitting by the lake, rain dancing, hmm..everything, everything!

rose petals and a candle, together on water

the wait..

begins with a D, and hard to pronounce ;)

a stolen moment! 

my Mumbai stint was something, wasn't it?! 

dream?

On my last day at work, my boss asked me what is it that I want in life? Pop came the spontaneous answer, like it always does. I just want to be happy. There were many affirmative nods and smiles from the others around. But c'mon! Don't be a spoilsport! Tell us the dirtiest, most materialistic dream you have..

Well a sea facing apartment that overlooks the highway, which has one entire wall made of glass by which I can sit and write, which I roll down when I want the rain to come in. And a balcony from where in I can lean down and feel the wind. And one bed with a hell of a cushy mattress, where I would totally sink in and disappear, with lots of pillows I can throw my legs on. And of course a kitchen that isn't in any way separated from the hall, where I can cook all my experimental cuisine and try them on myself. And a huge TV on which my favorite sitcoms run back to back, all the time. And a fridge with lots and lots of cheese in it. And Norah/Shakira playing in the background all the time, the volume of which adjusts automatically to my moods..

And in that whole dream, which just now occupies a tiny space inside my head, I see only me. And no one else. No one else deserves to be there along with me, I guess.

But hey there was another dream too. I was home after a few months into MBA, and my dad who is an amateur chef was thinking of quitting his job and we were about to start a restaurant! We were seriously into it, until one day I obviously went back to school, and Dad to his job..!!

Dreams they say..

vis-a-vis

my love is sacred, it's outrageously passionate. it's irrational and uncompromising.
your love is moody. it switches between maddening heights and unknown depths, it kills me whenn it does that, bothways
my love is pathetically possessive of you, yours is nameless
my love paralyzes me, it is as unconditional as unconditional could get, it doesn't crave for your response, yet it does.
you hold me hostage, you dictate my mind's every move
i don't matter to you, you follow the faceless like a lunatic
your love is divine, mine is human, very human
i need you and youare insatiable
i stay up like an insane insomniac, watching you sleep
you are a rock, while i explode to your every touch

it's badly lopsided..

my loveis love
and yours is not

love-forsaken!

what are we doing?

we are sitting on a bench, by the side of a lake, rubbing our feet on the grass, on the other side of
midnight, getting drenched in the first rain

Is this what we always wanted?

May be not. We wanted other things.

What other things?

Other things like love, may be. Yeah, love. The most beautiful thing in the world.

So why are we here?

Because love didn't happen.

The reason?

Noreason. The moment we to try to figure out the reason, we can't stop cursing ourselves. So we just sit quietly, trying to hold our cold shivers inside, looking at the lights from the highway reflect on the black peaceful water of the lake.

But what next?

We will walk back, like fallen soldiers, tearing the stillness of the dead night, back into our rooms. Lie down on our beds and hold our breath and close our eyes, and see a face inside our minds and remember..things that could have been. And finally hopefully at a certain point of time, may be, the ache in our hearts will be subdued by our need for a refuge in sleep. And then, may be we would dream, may be we would not..

Can two wounded hearts, heal each other?

Sitting on a bench, by the side of a lake, rubbing their feet on the grass, on the other side of midnight, getting drenched in the first rain, may be they can. Or may be they would never.

And I hope they never..

like a broken bangle
and like the remnant of the moon that stays till the morning sky
like an unsaid word
like a fire doused before it became all ash

you left me,


incomplete

Men in my Life IV

wot's in common between the three??

just that they make me laugh my intestines out!

so

humor is the key..

do you get me..?

secretchest

i never dreamed of a knight in shining armor. i just wanted a keeper of my secrets.

but that was not to be. after a heartbreak, the ghost of the heartbreaker remained with me, for a long long time. i forgot craving for my keeper for secrets. i began talking to that ghost instead.

throughout, i wanted a shoulder to lean on, not a knight in shining armor.

i used to have visions, flashes of sunlight emerging from the dark, a savior, an exorcist, the one who would drive away the ghost of my heartbreaker. now, i don't have them anysuch anymore, those visions.

because

i see those hypothetical shoulders becoming real in blood and muscle, and they look like you. also there are crazy clues to believe this is true. hence, i have stopped having those visions altogether. it is the most beautiful thing, you know, to see, my dreams trickle into reality, drop after drop. and those dreams are not lost in transition, may be not, i hope not, i want not.

but you still have those visions, you still see half hidden face of a virgin that keeps you awake, you still do. you still await the keeper of your secrets. and i am not the one, not the one for you?

will you break my heart, again?

Bewitched!

they had a big fight in the morning. no, it was nothing pent up for days. they lived their life in real time, as in you know, neither would or could hide anything from the other. there was no scope for hiding even a single emotion. the moment they were in love with each other, both of them knew it just like that, there was no need of a proposal or a confession. and that was the way it was with them. so today morning when they knew they hated each other, they sometimes do that, both of them knew it and she threw the vase on the wall, not at him, it was a gift from him, a very special one, all the gifts are special, aren't they? she went breathless with tears and just when the moment came when she wanted him to take her in his arms and console her like a baby, he walked out. yeah, he walked out of the house, their house, and she heard the door bang and the noise of it defeaned her for a second, it so shocked her that she stopped crying for a second. the wailing had reduced to crying when he left the room and it became like weeping when she heard the door bang, and a minute or two later it stopped. like immediately, the way the anger had errupted a few minutes ago, like that. now she knew there was noone in that house who would listen to her, she sat totally quietened. a mild wind flew in through the window, parting the curtains that they had bought last September, and the windchime in the living room, made a soft sound, like trying to tell her that though he was gone, there was something still there in the house, something alive and something that could still hear her. then she began missing him terribly, that it made her feel sick. her chest made heaving sounds in gasps and then she looked out of the bedroom window, if she could catch a glimpse of him leave, but she had already missed him, by a whisker, or by a minute or two.

she sat there and wondered if he would ever be able to fathom the depth of the bond that held them together, in the most compulsive of manners it tied their souls together, in a way that no reason could justify. as their attraction didn't have a reason, and they never tried to look for it. like either always wanted to possess the other, and be possessed in return. it was more furious than friendly. it scared her sometimes, the aching need, their total non-existence outside the couple they made, it was beyond the modern convention of marriage, or
rather beneath it, but they didn't seem to care.

the whole day she sat there and wondered that and missed him, by the window, watching the traffic glide by, morning become afternoon, inconsequential people on the street, but all that numbed her senses was that the one consequential person in her life was away, and angry, somewhere she didn't know where, she didn't know who he was with, was he still angry as much, did he get himself something to eat all day? did he, think about her the way she did?

then it got night, the sun sank, and the day was gone as the sum of long periods of waiting, intervals between which didn't seem to exist. he hadn't come back yet. that fear crippled her sanity, she began imagining sounds, his footsteps, trying to convince herself that none of this was happening for real, just a bad dream which she will wake up from, only to find him by her side, to be reassured to sleep, kissed to sleep, like ever. But no, she couldn't hear any such sounds, no matter how hard she tried..

later in the night when it rained hard, and thundered, he walked back in, measuring his every step, neatly, like he didn't want to wake her up if she was asleep. she ran into his arms, like they had been apart a hundred years, and filled his face with her kisses, wet his cheeks with her tears, though she knew he so hated tears, she couldn't hold herslef anymore, and cried, he lifted her from the floor as they hugged, like they always did, and they smiled. it was their time to smile, and both of them jus knew..

end of a dream

i wasn't sad a bit. the whole of today i thought only about you. just you. a mere half of me was where i was. the rest was with you. the entire day, now feels like a dream. a dream that was probably very real, or it at least could have been..

you entered my life as a shadow, remember? but then i wanted to feel you in flesh.. and today may be i did just that or may be i only became a trifle more insane..

my dream stretched into the future. a future that was quite an extension of the present that could have been. but yet we missed it by a whisker.

with my eyes open wide and awake, i saw us. i saw a love between us, that shone. like real people in love, doing  innumerable magical things to each other. i walked through our apartment, it sounds ridiculous, i am honestly not that crazy. but sometimes i go actively insane. today was one such..i had a waft of brewing coffee tempting my nostrils, on a tired evening. then i saw the balcony, the zooming traffic from the seventh floor, the long chain of lights. A lost us, in each other..probably

i saw  chord that held us, like nothing needed to be said. we were to be together, till you and i were meant to be. i saw the kitchen, i was so lost in the dream that i couldn't hear people speak.the only thing that reached my ears was your voice. the line separating that dream and this reality, hazed out. it became so blurred, that i couldn't figure out which was which. i blacked out. totally..

in the evening when i sort of woke up, i remembered the things you told me yesterday. and i figured out that today was a dream, the whole of it. the whole of it..was untrue, as true as the void between me and you. there isn't a thing between us, is there? there is no us, at all..

so it couldn't have been anything but a dream. it's hard to sink in, but sink in it will. i am trying..yes i am..

Oops~!

one girl i almost grew up with, one of my best friends on this planet is getting married. is getting married. oh dear god. i wanna fly to delhi and give her a hug and do all the girly things in this world. none of that is possible i know. but this thing is making me infinitely happy somehow. probably because she is tying the knot with the person she always loved. and can it get bigger than that?

exactly four years ago, i told a guy that i loved him so much. he told me he doesn't love me. it took me like a year and half to get over that and move on. and move on, i did. i got practical about life and stuff. so like a few days ago, i told another guy that i love him so much. he told me he can't love me back. so to fasten that process of getting over (no chocolate is not helping, i tried) i thought i should go get drunk tonite. but fuck i have a cramp and can't walk!

Phulan

I visited Calcutta once in the late 90's, with my neighbours. they stayed in a rickety damp building, Phulan stayed neaby. The name, without prejudice,creates a beautiful image. It must have been sometime in late March, the year I don't remember. I had never seen roads as sluggish, smoke as tarred; and an omnipresent nausea at the back of my head, that mingling of my conscious with noises and more noises.

But Phulan stayed in a 2 bedroom shack below the building. There was a courtyard, around which there many similar rooms. When I crossed them, I wondered if they housed dying men inside. May be they did. We never found out, we headed straight for Phulan's house. We, as in Anu and I. Anu was my neighbour's daughter. Now she is married and lives in Delhi. Every morning she wakes up and makes breakfast for her in-laws, I have heard. When we were children, she had such fair skin and silk like hair that her mother braided beautifully, I gazed at it and wondered which strand went into which.

The three of us sat on the single bed in her living room while her mother cooked in the other room. I wouldn't take my feet up on the bed, until asked to. In a stranger's house, how could I do that? And a simple gesture of putting my feet up on the bed, marked a very important transition in the relationship, somehow it did.

And then Phulan was getting married, in a month or two, or in six months or a year, I don't know when. But that dictated her moods every now and then. I remember the ring that shone in her finger, that was the proof, no matter what, marriage was on the cards. When she took out his picture from underneath the pillow, to show us, I did not know what to say. I glanced at Anu from the corner of my eye. Neither of us laughed. And then the three of us burst out into gurgles of unstoppable laughter that her mother had to scream from the kitcchen to make us stop, for god's sake. Phulan, despite her petite features, appeared older than us, by how many years, I don't know. And we called her didi though. But I still have fragments of those memories, her slim wrists, dangling earnings bought for five rupees at the street corner, oiled hair, the smell of it, the run in the afternoon for papdi chaat.. and other things

I wish I had a picture of hers with me, that revealed half a nose, one eye, strands of hair on her cheek, that would make you imagine what she looked like for real. But I don't. I don't even remember what she looked like. Nothing, none of it. But these days I am touring my past, fighting against my age to regain bits and pieces of memory, that could give me just an excuse to get over my present.

An excuse is all I need. And I named it Phulan for today.

Catharsis

Does catharsis connote the fulfillment of desire? Or is one desire invariably followed by another? Or does catharsis merely fill the gap between th two?

I don't know. I might never know..

Mortality blinds me such, it is difficult to see beyond desire. I want to take it all in at the same go. Who has seen a tomorrow? Never let a desire die hungry, feed it, feed it your blood, but feed it..

But the moment the desire is done with, a lifelesness creeps in. Haven't you noticed? It's like, lying on your back and staring at the roof, puffing a smoke, and thinking, rather evaluating if all that you did, was actually worth it. Is that catharis? Isn't it I mean?

Does the only way of sure riddance of a craving desire, run right through it? May be it does. That's why we are born humans, born mortals. We need to live it, all in one go.

Are you still reading this? You are?

In the morning, when I stood before the mirror to gather if the night had made me any more beautiful, and he held me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder, our eyes that had avoided each other all night, met in the mirror, and we smiled at each other, for that one moment, i desired that all this was indeed for love, and not for the culmination of desire, followed by a bout of compulsive amnesia.

Was that catharsis?

And are you still reading this? You are?

Me Mumbai

I don't know if me writing this would matter. most probably it wouldn't. I mean what could a maniac who has been wasting herself away all day long locked up in a dilapidated corner of some forgotten building, say that could matter? Nothing of what I have ever said makes any sense to the sensible.

Life is a complicated bunch of emotion. And to add to that nothing stays, yeah. All the words that escape my mind to show up here, are here because my mind could house them no longer. My conscious would burst open if I retain those myriad rebellious rants inside it. So here is where I dispose them off. And once done with, they never come back to me ever again. Here they lay, the rebellious thoughts, one beside the other, their entire household, generation after generation, abandoned by me, their mother.

In retrospect, it is difficult for me to recognize these very thoughts, that were bits and pieces of my soul thrown apart. It is ironical that though things change this way, my words are almost like a constant chain that started some years ago and hasn't ended ever since. I have shocked people, by the monotony of my content. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to care any less about that. Thankfully.

Writing was a matter of survival for me sometime back. Yeah survival. I had to write to continue to exist, to continue to fight against the forces that fought against me. It provided one vent, to dispose almost anything that ever dared to bother me.

I write not because it's my passion, but because it is my sole respite. 

And the title of this post would never make sense without this picture

From this city of infinite freedom, I am not taking back much. Except that it is adding a little to the only asset that I ever possessed, my experience! 

..still

Yeah, so I am learning German..!

But everything else is just the same, I still waste my time online
I call up my best friend when I have nothing else to do
And realize that talking to her is the best thing I have done in weeks
I still love chicken a lot
I keep changing my pictures on fb
And I am always sceptical about talking to new people/strangers
And I still laugh aloud, or don't laugh at all
Even now, I freak out totally while waiting for replies of sms's/ mails
I am always in the process of becoming more pathetic in writing formal letters
And I get so lost in thoughts that I can't hear voices, I am like always shaken out of sleep!
OR may be, just may be, that I am semi/quarter/just a trifle deaf?
May be I need a doc?
Or a cure for lonliness..
I still go for solitary long walks
I always want a change, I am god like at adapting to them
But there are always some things I can never ever get better at, like talking to a certain kind of women..
I still call me mom four times a day, I wake up to her sweet voice every morn..
And I try to avoid fake people, and it has sure been years I have been trying to do that
I am still shit scared of something I can write nothing on my blog about
Hmm..I still sleep like I am dead, like totally dead..uggh!

I still do a lot of things I did, though I can never become the person I was then..

Purple

Purple sat on the stairs and stared at the little bit of the sky, that showed itself from between the branches of the gulmohar, one afternoon. She pulled the hem of her skirt to cover her knees and sat pretty apparently unperturbed. Only her mind was traversing forth in time and again  back into the present. Purple wanted to be freed, like she yearned for the freedom of a firefly that drones around in a dark vast night. She used to stare down the edge of a mountain and imagine what a free fall would feel like. She wondered what would it be like to walk by the sea, the foam receding from her feet, all alone in mighty midnights. Purple passed away all her time wondering if such dreams would ever make a transit into reality.

Years later, Purple had become a bright young woman. Apparently, she had. Now she had all the freedom she ever had ever wanted. She walked by the sea, alone. Splashed colors on the whitewashed walls that had so caged her earlier. She had the privilege to choose her own companion, and dump them at her liberty. She spent herself living her life her own way, on her own terms. Without the slightest compromise. And so it went on for sometime.

But after a few years, Purple developed a suicidal tendency. She wanted to be possessed by someone. She wanted to be caged again. She was so overfed with freedom that she wanted someone to come into her life and draw the lines she would never cross. Purple wished she could go back to that afternoon, and look up through the gulmohar branches, at the sky and wonder how much of life was yet to be felt. She wanted to feel like a virgin again.

Only, she couldn't/

rain wish

let my wish not die this time around

i want to hold your hands and
move about in the monsoon
don't let my wish die this time around


i want to step my feet
into the puddles and kick the water out
and sing a little song, once in your ear
once aloud


i want to keep losing my umbrellas..
and buy new ones
of colors..magenta, purple, all the hues of love
may be a red one too


see the waves dying into foam
lashing the rock by the sea
strings of rain, incessant
furious like our love


drenched hearts and held hands
hmm..
not a shelter around
just us..alone together

Oeuvre

two bodies lip~locked in an eternal conversation, wish to delay the arrival of morning


because staring into the dark of the night, they can't meet each other's eyes. all they can feel is flesh. the light through the pale orange curtains, will spill their secrets and make them ashamed. in the morning, they would find in each other's eyes, the reflection of their curtailed souls. now they yearn for a prolonged darkness, a refuge for their troubled desires, ravenous desires. and as long as the night lasts, they hug each other like for dear life, and shut eyes, and make love..


two bodies lip~locked in an eternal conversation, wish to delay the arrival of morning..

It's amazing, the way life handles itself. It's totally crazy, the way things work out. Because between moments of roaring passion,we don't pause to think, we never realize how gargantuan it is. The volume of change, that each passing hour gets into my life, the way the magic of every single day that turns me inside out, makes me gasp for breath. The people I meet, the people I break up with, the people I meet to break up with. Everything has like a hidden mission I suppose, the way they work out like a chain reaction. The moments I try to brush the rust off and remember, the moments I deliberately try to get over and forget, the moments I choose to live because I know I have it in me to forget them, make my life what it is. You wouldn't understand this. You're not me. Life has to go on until it has not to. There is no big deal in that. The big deal is that, my dear, I stand here, to one end of the rope, trying to stretch out my arms and take in as much of these experiences as possible. The big deal is that, I am totally absolutely alone and yet I am living, and living as much. And the big deal is that, despite me, I am still writing this.

love & lots of kisses..

~Me..

You know I am obsessed about you. I love the way I impose yourself on me, like you're the last soul alive in this world and I need to hang on to you to survive, like you are the other name of life. I am absolutely obsessed about my obsession for you. I like the way reason loses its very significance when it stands on my way to you. I totally adore this madness that I thrive in, lately. I love the hurt. I love the pain that you cause me, like you possess me. I love the fact that you will never love me back, and I will die at your feet begging for your love in return for mine, but I wouldn't get any of it, but at least I will have one reason to die for. Yeah. You satiate me when you make me cry. At least you give me a vent for the stifled feelings inside me. You give me a reason to scream, every time you make me feel I am not the one and that I can never be the one. And this my love, is why I love you.

i will not get sleep tonite. the reason is you. 

you should meet him, his work might interest you. 
work?
yeah, the guy has scifi credentials
oh then i should
and you need to know people in a strange city
don't you know my flair at meeting strangers
but don't flirt with him much
what?
he's married by the way!
and i am happy and single
that means a lot of hope for me
shut up
don't i look serious enough?




numerous exchange of mails between scifi credentials and me
an evening together
long talks about what he works on
he seems nice to me
i ask lots of questions ..laughs..hmm
interesting! too good to be flirted with and dumped..shuh he is married!


and my last question..so how's your wife?
"wife?"


neck deep in embarrassment, i had asked about his wife who probably hadn't begun to exist! shuh! me and strangers.. the one who is responsible for this shouldn't see the light of tomorrow..!  

muse

Should every relationship have a name? Ours doesn't have one and this scares me a lot after you leave me alone for the night. I try not to make a noise and wake you up. I like you more this way. Peacefully asleep..oblivious of the tides inside me. I slide out quietly, lest I irk you.. I don't want you to realize the sudden absence of my touch. I sit an inch away from you and wonder what would you be dreaming about. It's difficult to resist touching you again..running my fingers over your face, trying to assure myself that you are for real and not a figment of my imagination. I also wonder if you would look for me in the morning when I am gone..will you run your hands over the creases on the sheet, trying to remember my caress?

I try to think of a name..for this thing between us..every relationship has a name, shouldn't ours also have one?

incomplete..

She: I'm reading a book these days. It's called Committed.
He: So you're done with all that Nicholas Sparks stuff?
She: Nope, I kinda paused that book to read this new one
He: So what is this Committed thing about?
She: What is it about? ..(Laughs)
He: What's funny?
She: No, nothing is funny, but the fact that the book, is about us.
He: You tipped the guy to write one on us eh?
She: It's a she, actually
He: ..and the name doesn't at all sound like all the darn feminist stuff u're so into sometimes..
She: It's about two people who are in love a lot but have decided not to ever get married

And I don't anymore feel like completing this..

yasp 7 (?)

no matter what, it's never enough
it's weird, how it never ceases to irk me
it has to exist at the back of my mind
the drop of tear, waiting in the corner of the eye
is a perennial thing in my life
it just doesn't want to go
i wonder where it gets all that attitude to hang on!

my vulnerability always traces its way back to me
no matter how much i pretend that I wont fall
it always wins, and i am the invariable loser
i try to give a good fight
i don't give up breathing until i am nose deepin water
but somehow, it just doesn't work out for me

it's weird, no matter how far you go
life always comes a full cirlce
no matter what heights you aspire for
you always crash on ground zero
why?

Mystery Shopping!

I have done a lot of shopping all my life. That's like part of living a woman's life. In the last few years shopping has appeared difficult for me because sometimes I have looked at it like some kind of a job I have to do. You know if it were my job to blog, i would have invariably hated it. I invariably hate work of any species! But anyway, I was talking about shopping. So yeah, like shopping for formals could never have been more boring that what it is for me. All the shirts I see look the same, feel the same. It's like looking at all the guys I have fallen for, all in a row, in retrospect. I keep wondering why I liked them so much. And so I can't like the shirts either. And return home empty handed. Most of the times, my dad does the shopping for me in this case. And shoes, I remember once I went out to buy shoes for myself. I came back after eating pani puri because it got so exhaustive you know, walking into one shop after another, being repelled by price tags, or by the sheer appearance of the shoe. Would rather go barefeet than see myself in those!

I moved on to window shopping for sometime. I do a lot of window shopping for books, if you can call it that. I stand in the store, or sometimes sit and start reading the book and read as much as I can. Many a times I have read the back cover of the book, ( what do you call it?) and have bought the book only to feel superditched by the author later. But that's another story, books that have had infinitely boring first pages are the ones I will love all my life. And clothes of course, halterneck & off shoulder material are to be tried in the mall itself & never bought for sake of the wellness of the male population around. And obviously trinkets and antiques make excellent window shopping material.

But Mystery Shopping! Yeah thats what I am into lately, kinda unbelievable..but..I am holding on to incredibility for a while :)

Shadow

i live amongst shadows. i wander amongst a swarm of forgettable faces, shadows of course are very forgettable. here, nothing lasts. but once in a while, a nascent after~thought makes itself visible and lingers on till sleep comes over.


i was talking about shadows. a new one has emerged out of the light lately. i know it's not him. he knows he's not him. we both sigh with relief. due to this surity, there is not a question between us. we wouldn't last, we know.. not beyond tonite.

in the dark when our fingers touch and a chill runs down our senses, we hold our breath in that moment and not mourn its lack in the next. we take each other's breath away. like virgin shower on parched earth, like wine to a lost traveller.


this aint love. love is everlasting. this is anything but love. this is lust. and so be it..

lust binds me to this new shadow..

i live amongst shadows. i wander amongst a swarm of forgettable faces, shadows of course are very forgettable. here, nothing lasts. but once in a while, a nascent after~thought makes itself visible and lingers on till sleep comes over..

Dini ~ 3

why don't you buy company? you can

do you really like being totally alone?
i don't understand how you can survive this way..
more importantly, for how long is this gonna keep you alive?
haven't you thought of the future?
you have a long life, i am sure!
you're weird.
i have never seen anyone soul so complacent.
why don't you go out, heaven's sake?
give yourself a break girl
wear some color, you look dead. yeah, dead
you love walking alone, don't you?
legs don't ache, do they? feel for your legs, stupid woman!
wake up..ask yourself
talk to yourself, open up
ask questions,
why~nots are more important than whys
smile, come alive..
you have a tongue, dontch yu?

Dini? Dini? Are ye listening?

Staring at the horizon wouldn't buy you chocolate fantasy..!



Dini: Even this earth, as black and as dead meets a sky, so blue and so unlike her. They make the horizon. Dini is staring at it & probably making a silent wish which she would never confess to herself..
 

& i wish the picture could say it all...

espresso & a red rose

here in a strange city, i am swaying my feet in the air, perching on the rock near the sea, looking into the distant skyline and trying to find a new meaning to life, my life, the real one, the one that will last me long, i want to see for real, the truth and part ways with all the fakery i have believed in so far. so wish me luck!

~Eva

panacea?

everytime i get this close to finding you, you vanish. is this some kind of game? does this have a consequence? and does the consequence by any chance decide my life? why is my patience being put to test again and again? i can't keep doing this, you know. i am tired. very sick. i can't do this anymore. seriously, don't blame me, but i am giving up. you don't know a bloody thing. you don't know what it feels to let your beloved's hand slip out of yours. this thing is emotionally paralyzing. the repetitiveness makes it incurably fatal. yeah. don't blame me. it has never been worth it. why does my quest have to end in disappointment? i don't care if my journey finds its destination or not, i want to end it now and here. this chapter needs to close, forever. because, far more important ones are waiting to begin. they need my mind too. the way i have coddled you, i regret it honey, i really do. i promise to never repeat it, but everytime you spare me a moment, i can't help myself. let me make it a point that this betrayal was the last and final. no more of this, is welcome. i need to find my fuel for life elsewhere. and you better,

fuck off!

?!

every night, intoxicated by the relentless winds 
that the evening brings with itself,
when i stare out of my window
i see the moon, my moon
and write a letter to it
you say i am the mistress of words
but i am, 
a woman passionately in love


the glint in my eyes, ooze with enticement
don't they? 
the curve of the lip, hint of lust
you say i am narcissus's survivor
but i am
only a woman passionately in love


my thoughts, are luscious
virile like waves that dash with rocks
but coy as the ones that recede,
i melt in my lover's arms
you say i am a pure lunatic
but i let madness be undiluted,
i am a woman entwined in love..


eve was tricked into a temptation
i lived on as eve's dying wish..
a remnant of that yearning need..
un-numbed, 
you say i am a wildflower,
but i am 
only a woman madly in love

knot for me!

Every small step feels like a giant leap. And honestly, I want it to feel like one. We should be careful when our hearts are busy trying to bond irrespective of everything else. You have a past I suppose, and I have many pasts. Forgetting takes time. And we need that time. Let's not be that fast that it takes my breath away. Everything is at stake, you know. Though its hard, but we can give a shot at being as sane as possible. My experiences have made me into a cynic, big time. And though I understand, how you want me to respond, it's difficult for me to shed that defensive garb that I have shrouded myself in for all these years  of seasoned solitude. And I think the same applies to you too. Come on! I don't even know you enough to comment on that. It will look ridiculous if we get serious about something that would look so silly later.


Recently, one couple I loved and respected for long, chose to split. For one minute I gaped in surprise. Then I gained my poise and wondered if that wasn't exactly obvious, something that should happen, only oftener. Marriage being the epitome of all compromises, every time a marriage works out shouldn't I gape in surprise rather than when it breaks? 

Invisible/

my escape feels good. for these times, i have been hiding myself from the world, i have felt safe. blame it on my lack of courage, or the fact that i give up very soon on somethings. but living alone, in a dark cold forgotten corner makes me peaceful. i was probably tired of answering questions. and looking for the answers i found this place. my refuge. where i rest shrouded in absolute silence. needs that were so earlier, have vanished now. i don't even want to speak a word, lest it destroy my silence, the one i so love. i have understood, yeah. and i wish to breathe with this understanding. sitting here, clutching my knees close to my heart, crying hot tears sometimes, consoling myself at others, i have learnt to accept destiny. my destiny. and i have not the slightest inclination to share this with any second soul.

So invisible  is the way i shall be..for now & forever!

found & lost

We sat under an unreal sky, smells of the night engulfing us. Noises that the sea made in the creek kept us awake. I had never seen the waves hit rock, and vanish into foam. And this brought back dead dreams in my eyes. It was so beautiful. A five minute walk kept a lighthouse from us. We had been fighting over the name of his new firm, which might come into existence after he quit sometime in the future. We ran through all the complicated Sanskrit words, then French. We had come back to English for sometime. I felt like falling asleep on his shoulder, but for the noises the sea made. We leant on the cold wall of rock behind us, half way into a dreamy non-existence. Time forgot to move, probably. Or if it had moved at all, it had forgotten to take us along. Felt like 5:40, eversince. 

Let's keep no record, he said. 

It should rain, shouldn't it? It's June anyway..and the monsoons lost their way, over the sea. I wanted it to rain, so much. Dry leaves came floating, like messengers of the world that existed, somewhere away. We were fighting anyway about the name of our future, weren't we? everything had itself buffered from us.. 

After longish fights with fate, we had found each other. Hands were to be held, for now. Our journeys to each other might have been long and tortuous, but the sighs at the end, have answered my questions, all of them. 

We still couldn't figure out that name, mishchievously fighting over how we would never actually coincide. Then we would diverge again into the selves we were before we met. And safely seal the now that we were spending on a dusky afternoon awaiting the monsoon near the sea, into a memory, or better treat it as a dream that could have continued, but we had rather it didn't. 

PS: I had been waiting for a over a year to write this, but when someone told me why cant you stop thinking so much and be your age, i couldn't help it any longer!

Cloud 9

how much of it does matter? it doesn't right? people and stupid parties..dim lights and stupid games. only thing expected of her is tolerance. every other such night she went out in, she honed her skill of patience..and sat still and sat like that till she froze. in that lost corner of the hall, she was pushed awake by her own name called out aloud. couples announced for a silly game of paper dance. what! yeah. a silly game of paper dance. why did such games even exist? though she ne'er found any connection, physical or metaphysical, between her and the guy, people found them fun. they always had, and so they screamed, all of them, they hooted into an uproar in which she was blinded. when awake in entirety, he spared a glance. sarcastic, suppressible laughter erupted inside her. on the floor she made it clear, she didn't know dancing and stuff and so did he. could it get any more ridiculous? dancing of all things alive and dead? uh! but she would give it a shot, like she always had. they stepped onto an innocent sheet of yellowed newspaper and stood there while others danced. u needed to dance, its a dance thing eh, not a standing thing. okay okay, we are dancing, look! the sheet folded into half, had less space to stand on. so they danced now, holding onto each others fingertips. exchanging glances, laughing out for real now, she was absolutely erupting from within. but you need to hold emotions the most when rather you would have left them out in the open naked the most. the sheet folded into another half, only one person could afford standing, she stood on his feet and they swayed, serenaded, may be. who cares? silly game of paper dance. one moment she would have tipped off had he not held her back.then she got real nervous and avoided looking into his eye. just another moment more and he wouldn't be able to take it anymore and step off the innocent sheet of newspaper, now folded beyond recognition, and chucked out the game, they would be. but he didn't, to her shock. she placed her one hand on his shoulder and the other hand was too shy, hence floated in the air. he smiled. why? her laugh reduced to a smile and then to a nothing. what on earth was she doing? when the paper was folded for the one last time, only one feet could stand. he lifting her up was the answer, but as that question didn't even exist, that would be it then. but it wasn't it, not in a bit. he said he could, he would. what! what kind of nuts are ye, kid! she whispered her weight in his ears, dude! she wouldn't ever do that, understand. let go. let me go. but no, he would make her pay the price for standing on his feet for those delicious few minutes.

one moment, they were negotiating, which way should time go. in the next she was in the air, literally and otherwise..

Absence

Ek so sola chaand ki raatein,

Ek tumhare kandhe ka til..

I will not confess this to myself, but I have missed you. Your absence has taken the shape of a being and stands beside me all the time. I look at me, and I see you missing. I am  a candle, will go off any moment. Any moment now. I wanted to meet you again, tell you things, nothings. Stand beside you and laugh at all the funny stuff you said. Walk with you, on a windy evening on the sea shore, waves longing to touch our feet. And keep walking and walking till we fall off at the end of the world, our feet sinking into the sand, holding hands..hmm..yea..something like that

But in your absence, I quit believing in dreams. I have..

Now I see me going round in circles near a mountain, running my hands through the cold still wind,on an evening, and dancing. Abandoned. Wild and free..with a yearning for you that is dying with every moment. My wish for you will be gone in a day or two..It's just me near the dry and dead mountain I have always so much loved. So much..

I am a candle, will go off any moment now..

joinin dots..

No I ain't obsessed. I hate obsession. I appreciate taking unquestionable control of things in my life. And then hurt becomes a forgotten feeling. Emotions are dictated. Mostly they don't exist. Or are too afraid to be born. There was a time when I used to fight myself perennially. Now we are out of that storm, peace is sinking into me. I am happy. May be this is the way I define happiness. I love this feeling of being absolutely totally alone in this world. It's a nice feeling. This ambience of total control, where I my emotions are self~dictated, and I decide what I should feel, more importantly, what I should feel not. It's a great feeling. Of being by myself, all the time. Of great responsibility an unbounded freedom at the same time. Solitude has become company. I know who matters and who doesn't. Almost everyone falls in the second bracket. Distinct lines, I have drawn. Carved out, rather. I can't tell you, how powerful I feel. And now, I am quite looking forward to my this stint. 

i believe, that's why i am alive

the soul is but indomitable




my ability to hope 
surprises me now,




 i know this is not callousness
faith shall respond




all waits will end 
&joy will retrace its path

delicious blurr..

after the slog of the day i kinda passed out

i began walking on a narrow ledge tht bordered the hill

it was evening and there was a mild cold breeze

down south, summer has arrived

it is me that she evades

the breeze created a silent music

soothing

soporific 'n enlivenin at the same time

there were beautiful shrubs with flowers of colors

redd, violet and blue

a few whites too

besides others that got lost in the dark

i was happy for them, the flowers

they would live 'n die on their shrub

wouldn be bouque-d to an unknown somewhere

like me..

no emotion prevailed

just a lovely silence

the dusk on a lost day of early March..

before i moved to other things

that i wouldn write about,

for one moment

i lost myself

in that delicious blurr..

no-men--clatured

though i have never read him, but i am quite the antithesis of what Shakespeare was. i believe in names. names don't matter when i am with the person. they are a like a reluctant grain of sand in the eye once i am estranged. names haunt me, Shakespeare, if you're listening. they do.

the last time i wrote about koel, something must have had me. this is a furtherance of that something. i like calling certain people by their names, the tangy noises they make inside my mind, oh.

one name and i however have somehow never parted ways. it kept re-entering my life after

every interval of a year or two, stayed for sometime, before making an exit, sometimes silent, sometimes sad, sometimes ..

the first kid of that name was one back in school who told me he had a tiny crush on me. it was embarassing and frightening at the same time. we never talked after that, until one day i heard him playing the guitar and became a total fan. i love the guitar, bytheway..

the second person of the name was my proverbial soulmate. time ran out of us, when we talked. thinking like a sane mind now, it frightens me how two individuals connect on every plane possible. two people who could only agree..'yeah..i know..i have been there..i can't agree more..oh'

the third, didn't last much and is hence not worth mentioning..

the last one. the final one. feels like yesterday that i ran into him. on one of those confusing lanes of destiny that bring strangers together, gift them the most breathtaking times of their lives. and break them apart in a way that has the suddenness of a bloodless massacre, the shock of a climactic apocalypse, and the savagery a storm that is followed by a neverending lull.

so i believe in names. a lot..because some are just so stupidly ominous, i can't even tell ya..what it was..