i dont feel proud when i say i dont trust anyone.
i have learnt by trial and error, that this and only this can be the truth of my being.
there was a time when i did not know what discretion meant.
and there was a time, when i didnt know what gumption meant.
there was a time when i didnt know the bad either.
when words like betrayal, jealousy, illness, sadness were just words to me.
there was a time when i lived without being conscious of it.
there was a time when i didnt know what "I" meant
which is better i cannot say.
but that time has gone and given way to mistrust
mistrust for anything or anyone.
i will not say that i have suffered.. for i know.. there is worse to come.. and that there is much worse in the world than can ever happen to me in this lifetime.
but i have withered in my own right.
i will not say that it has made me happier or that it was necessary for the new improved me.
but i have withered in my own right.
the parts which regenerate will....no matter how withered i have become.
but those few parts that remain, unnoticably withered...
will suck the moisture from the fresh rest.
only sometimes, that will happen.
and you will have to bear with that.
you who i learnt to trust amongst all the doubts.
and you who it will still take many years to trust completely.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
all she cared for was the father.
a baby boy died in mud,
and all she cared for was the father,
the boy died in my arms,
i thought she was a goddess,
ephemeral, delicate.
please dont be mysterious, there isnt the time....
and i rose, to be frank and beautiful.
my life and i must be where i live...
i had not the slightest clue that all she cared for was the father.
if he had asked she would have given herself.... body and soul.
and i was the confidante... the only one she could speak about it all to...
if she didnt she would die....
and then my life would be seperate from me.
my life and i must be were i live...
and all she cared for was the father.
and all she cared for was the father,
the boy died in my arms,
i thought she was a goddess,
ephemeral, delicate.
please dont be mysterious, there isnt the time....
and i rose, to be frank and beautiful.
my life and i must be where i live...
i had not the slightest clue that all she cared for was the father.
if he had asked she would have given herself.... body and soul.
and i was the confidante... the only one she could speak about it all to...
if she didnt she would die....
and then my life would be seperate from me.
my life and i must be were i live...
and all she cared for was the father.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
ashen
twinkling eyes.
melting touch.
postive spaces fill my negative.
in every way.
looking up to stop the tears.
setting hair to pull away from my hand.
a reassuring pat.
a friend indeed
but not always there in need.
and yet
a dry dry tongue.
ashen dry.
crushing me to pieces.
ashen dry.
melting touch.
postive spaces fill my negative.
in every way.
looking up to stop the tears.
setting hair to pull away from my hand.
a reassuring pat.
a friend indeed
but not always there in need.
and yet
a dry dry tongue.
ashen dry.
crushing me to pieces.
ashen dry.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
On the wing - Christina Rossetti
Once in a dream (for once i dreamed of you)
we stood together in an open field
above our heads two swift winged creatures wheeled
sporting at ease and courting full in view
when loftier still a broadening darkness flew
down swooping and a ravenous hawk revealed
too weak to fight to fond to fly they yield
so farewell life and love and pleasures new
then as thier plumes fell fluttering to the ground
their snow white plumage flecked with crimson drops
i wept and thought i turned towards you to weep
but you were gone while rustling hedgerow tops
bent in the wind which bore to me a sound
of far off piteous bleat of lambs and sheep
we stood together in an open field
above our heads two swift winged creatures wheeled
sporting at ease and courting full in view
when loftier still a broadening darkness flew
down swooping and a ravenous hawk revealed
too weak to fight to fond to fly they yield
so farewell life and love and pleasures new
then as thier plumes fell fluttering to the ground
their snow white plumage flecked with crimson drops
i wept and thought i turned towards you to weep
but you were gone while rustling hedgerow tops
bent in the wind which bore to me a sound
of far off piteous bleat of lambs and sheep
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
iris
"this twisted toxic thing is over
and ive got a life to start living" says iris
there is a time in everyones lives, we want something so bad...
that it hurts to even imagine life without it.
we know that the only way we can be happy is by achieving that.
and the course of pursuing happiness we forget ourselves. and how much unhappiness we are causing for ourselves. and we waste years before we miraculously realise this.
somethign that causes so much bitterness and tears can logically can never be as great as you
think it will be.
we the cursed ones, live in day after day of hating ourselves, trying to figure out whats wrong?
of finding faults in us. waking up every day, year after year to this terrible feeling of incompletetion, incompetancy.
we say we cant go on like this, but dare we move away from the comfortable zone of knowing what we want. even if it gives you nothing but pain.
indecision, and inconsistency is what every one likes to avoid.
but in that fervour we forget to screen our decisions or rather we are scared to.
to weigh them and to realise that that all the investment emotional, mental, physical and sometimes monetary... has gone to waste would be pure blasphemy!!!
so we live.. in our comfort zone.. right in the centre with the question marks floating in the pool of our agony.. self induced, self created agony.
let go... because theres beauty in breakdown.
as iris says in holiday...
"i understand feeling as small and insignificant as humanly possible.
and how it can actually ache in places you didnt know existed inside you
and no matter how many haircuts you get,
or how many gyms you join,
or how many glasses of champagne you have with your girlfirends
you still end up going over all the details of what went wrong,
or how you could have misunderstood,
and how in the world for that brief moment you could think that oyu were that happy
and after all that, however long all that may be, youll go somewhere new,
and youll meet people wholl make you feel worthwhile again,
and little pieces of your soul, will finally come back together,
and all that fuzzy stuff...
all the years of your life that you have wasted,
that will eventually fade."
and ive got a life to start living" says iris
there is a time in everyones lives, we want something so bad...
that it hurts to even imagine life without it.
we know that the only way we can be happy is by achieving that.
and the course of pursuing happiness we forget ourselves. and how much unhappiness we are causing for ourselves. and we waste years before we miraculously realise this.
somethign that causes so much bitterness and tears can logically can never be as great as you
think it will be.
we the cursed ones, live in day after day of hating ourselves, trying to figure out whats wrong?
of finding faults in us. waking up every day, year after year to this terrible feeling of incompletetion, incompetancy.
we say we cant go on like this, but dare we move away from the comfortable zone of knowing what we want. even if it gives you nothing but pain.
indecision, and inconsistency is what every one likes to avoid.
but in that fervour we forget to screen our decisions or rather we are scared to.
to weigh them and to realise that that all the investment emotional, mental, physical and sometimes monetary... has gone to waste would be pure blasphemy!!!
so we live.. in our comfort zone.. right in the centre with the question marks floating in the pool of our agony.. self induced, self created agony.
let go... because theres beauty in breakdown.
as iris says in holiday...
"i understand feeling as small and insignificant as humanly possible.
and how it can actually ache in places you didnt know existed inside you
and no matter how many haircuts you get,
or how many gyms you join,
or how many glasses of champagne you have with your girlfirends
you still end up going over all the details of what went wrong,
or how you could have misunderstood,
and how in the world for that brief moment you could think that oyu were that happy
and after all that, however long all that may be, youll go somewhere new,
and youll meet people wholl make you feel worthwhile again,
and little pieces of your soul, will finally come back together,
and all that fuzzy stuff...
all the years of your life that you have wasted,
that will eventually fade."
Monday, September 10, 2007
Saturday, September 8, 2007
why do i write the way i write ?
why do i write the way i write?
full of vindiction and spite?
all the horrors of this world, unthinkably cunning designs
to lead me in a cave, where i have no choice but to walk without any respite.
words crumpled with anger and thrown in waste basket,
picked up, polished and sprinkled with layers of fine, powdery language.
i guess by now everyone knows why i write the way i write
and not this way
i can see people tear their hair out and run far away.
ha ha ha ha!
now that thats out of my system...
i promise ill resume writing the way i write.
that may be not the best, but it sure is better than this crap..which i even have the audacity to post on a public space!!! ( i must have some nerve!)
full of vindiction and spite?
all the horrors of this world, unthinkably cunning designs
to lead me in a cave, where i have no choice but to walk without any respite.
words crumpled with anger and thrown in waste basket,
picked up, polished and sprinkled with layers of fine, powdery language.
i guess by now everyone knows why i write the way i write
and not this way
i can see people tear their hair out and run far away.
ha ha ha ha!
now that thats out of my system...
i promise ill resume writing the way i write.
that may be not the best, but it sure is better than this crap..which i even have the audacity to post on a public space!!! ( i must have some nerve!)
Friday, September 7, 2007
dementia in a golden hand mirror
dementia sets in
not knowing what day of the week, day of the month, month, or even what year it is,
dementia that demands for a bribe... of your innocence rather than sanity.
for it knows that sanity can do worse things.
sanity as we know it today. the mother of all essentials.
lo and behold! the mother arrives...
and passes by me.. a strong whiff of her perfume makes me choke my bodily fuids out.
but just only passes by.
and then leaves me with unpleasently strong musky smell and a bad taste in my mouth.
the kinds you get after eating something too sweet.
i need a mint.. and a jug of cold water.
to wash down the bad taste and regain the innocence lost.
is it possible to hold something massively more heavier than your being?
to lift it and drag the weight of it around till your death. something so gigantic that it is invisible to the naked eye. the way we hold our thoughts.. the ones that squeeze all your life juices and leave you with nothing but bruises on your back.
unhealing invisible bruises.
and yet in your mind they heal only partially. leaving ugly scars...unmistakeable permanent reminders of your mistakes and naive optimism.
in the mirror they show up on your face.. liquify in your eyes, molten thoughts, scorching you to the depths of your soul. freezing your blood midway in your veins...
hence causing dementia.
not knowing what day of the week, day of the month, month, or even what year it is,
dementia that demands for a bribe... of your innocence rather than sanity.
for it knows that sanity can do worse things.
sanity as we know it today. the mother of all essentials.
lo and behold! the mother arrives...
and passes by me.. a strong whiff of her perfume makes me choke my bodily fuids out.
but just only passes by.
and then leaves me with unpleasently strong musky smell and a bad taste in my mouth.
the kinds you get after eating something too sweet.
i need a mint.. and a jug of cold water.
to wash down the bad taste and regain the innocence lost.
is it possible to hold something massively more heavier than your being?
to lift it and drag the weight of it around till your death. something so gigantic that it is invisible to the naked eye. the way we hold our thoughts.. the ones that squeeze all your life juices and leave you with nothing but bruises on your back.
unhealing invisible bruises.
and yet in your mind they heal only partially. leaving ugly scars...unmistakeable permanent reminders of your mistakes and naive optimism.
in the mirror they show up on your face.. liquify in your eyes, molten thoughts, scorching you to the depths of your soul. freezing your blood midway in your veins...
hence causing dementia.
Romance and moonlit dust
"He thought of her no longer, he was anxious for himself: he feared that Romance might die.
Romance only dies with life. No pair of pincers will ever pull it out of us.
But there is a spurious sentiment which cannot resist the unexpected and
the incongruous and the grotesque. A touch will loosen it, and sooner it goes from us the better.
It was going from him now, and therefore he gave the cry of pain.
She did not call anymore, for she felt very ill, and fainted; and when she revived,
she was lying on the road, with dust in her eyes, and dust in her mouth, and dust down her ears.
There is something very terrible in dust at night-time."
Romance only dies with life. No pair of pincers will ever pull it out of us.
But there is a spurious sentiment which cannot resist the unexpected and
the incongruous and the grotesque. A touch will loosen it, and sooner it goes from us the better.
It was going from him now, and therefore he gave the cry of pain.
She did not call anymore, for she felt very ill, and fainted; and when she revived,
she was lying on the road, with dust in her eyes, and dust in her mouth, and dust down her ears.
There is something very terrible in dust at night-time."
the aunty in me
it really makes me smile to see the aunties in all of us... creeping out ....slowly...
infesting our mannerisms... the auties that we eventually will be....
and the aunties that our mothers eventually came to be...
infesting our mannerisms... the auties that we eventually will be....
and the aunties that our mothers eventually came to be...
Thursday, September 6, 2007
the scheme of things
a friend told me a few days ago, whenever you are in doubt think of your life as a 100mts race.
and you will see everything clearer. what is the real goal and what is a distraction.
and i tried to visualise myself on a track. with my goal at the other end.
only i didnt know what it was.
which made me think.. can you really work towards something not knowing what it is actually that you are working for.. or rather running for?
running so hard that all you see are blurred colours merging into each other forming neutrals and white.
peripheral vision is useless when the head doesnt want to use it.
so i decided.
i'd rather skip about without a care, observing everything all around, looking,
feeling the rays of the sun on my face.. even if i end up coming last..
i will feel, i have lived a life worth much more than those few second of a mad dash..
leading me away from all the things i love the most in the world.
"Dear Sana,
i'm so glad to have found in you a person who's as mad as the one inside me.
Love,
A
we'll leave it at that"
well... im glad i qualify.
the madness to leave all worldly cares and ruin your best clothes, just to get wet in the rain... with someone who inspires me more than anyone i have met so far.
amidst all the doubt.. of bleeding color, and questioning, demeaning looks, i ran...
with my skirt in my hands.. fanned out on either sides...
in hope of the onset of an eventual flight...
i ran.. away from self doubting, and accusing thoughts that flit across,
making me feel guilty about not working....
i ran
and something from below the concrete road caught hold of my feet... made me stand at a spot.. an invisible life force that made me stay.... and i did...
i stood in a pool of golden yellow leaves... scattered.. lying far away from their branches..
just for me..
and i looked up.. shimmering raindrops punctuated with golden freckles of leaves falling right over me, just in my radius... from the roof of green wet neem leaves and the vast skies skies only peeking from behind.. for once letting the trees play a role of more importance...
and a few steps away a friend who stood looking up too.. thinking of probably the samething...
nature has a way of making each of us feel special...
and suddenly the beauty of it all hit me, and left me breathless..
there are certain moments that reaffirm your faith in the eternal goodnes of being... and pump fuel in our shrunken, dehydrated vision.
things like,
someone waking you up at 8.15 for a nine of clock class when you have an alarm of your own.
things like,
a reflex of groping for someones hand while crossing a road, and always finding one.
things like,
an extra mattress reserved for someone who probably will never visit again,
things like,
an equally clueless friend giving you advice...
and pretending that they know what they are saying in order to make you feel better.
things like,
someone ignoring you on purpose, to let you grow up and deal with things on your own,
even though all they want to do is run and hold you in an embrace so warm that it would make all your troubles scurry away with shame...
things like...
the realisation of it all... the whole scheme of things while hugging someone in a cold rainy night... when your eyes travel and stop at the patterns that light and water make together.
and you will see everything clearer. what is the real goal and what is a distraction.
and i tried to visualise myself on a track. with my goal at the other end.
only i didnt know what it was.
which made me think.. can you really work towards something not knowing what it is actually that you are working for.. or rather running for?
running so hard that all you see are blurred colours merging into each other forming neutrals and white.
peripheral vision is useless when the head doesnt want to use it.
so i decided.
i'd rather skip about without a care, observing everything all around, looking,
feeling the rays of the sun on my face.. even if i end up coming last..
i will feel, i have lived a life worth much more than those few second of a mad dash..
leading me away from all the things i love the most in the world.
"Dear Sana,
i'm so glad to have found in you a person who's as mad as the one inside me.
Love,
A
we'll leave it at that"
well... im glad i qualify.
the madness to leave all worldly cares and ruin your best clothes, just to get wet in the rain... with someone who inspires me more than anyone i have met so far.
amidst all the doubt.. of bleeding color, and questioning, demeaning looks, i ran...
with my skirt in my hands.. fanned out on either sides...
in hope of the onset of an eventual flight...
i ran.. away from self doubting, and accusing thoughts that flit across,
making me feel guilty about not working....
i ran
and something from below the concrete road caught hold of my feet... made me stand at a spot.. an invisible life force that made me stay.... and i did...
i stood in a pool of golden yellow leaves... scattered.. lying far away from their branches..
just for me..
and i looked up.. shimmering raindrops punctuated with golden freckles of leaves falling right over me, just in my radius... from the roof of green wet neem leaves and the vast skies skies only peeking from behind.. for once letting the trees play a role of more importance...
and a few steps away a friend who stood looking up too.. thinking of probably the samething...
nature has a way of making each of us feel special...
and suddenly the beauty of it all hit me, and left me breathless..
there are certain moments that reaffirm your faith in the eternal goodnes of being... and pump fuel in our shrunken, dehydrated vision.
things like,
someone waking you up at 8.15 for a nine of clock class when you have an alarm of your own.
things like,
a reflex of groping for someones hand while crossing a road, and always finding one.
things like,
an extra mattress reserved for someone who probably will never visit again,
things like,
an equally clueless friend giving you advice...
and pretending that they know what they are saying in order to make you feel better.
things like,
someone ignoring you on purpose, to let you grow up and deal with things on your own,
even though all they want to do is run and hold you in an embrace so warm that it would make all your troubles scurry away with shame...
things like...
the realisation of it all... the whole scheme of things while hugging someone in a cold rainy night... when your eyes travel and stop at the patterns that light and water make together.
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