of favors and doorbells

Do me a favor, dont knock
if you knew better you'd just barge in
if i knew better, i'd just turn away.


But, what fate
that we are stuck in this unending stagnancy
of us on either sides of the door,
with these locked latches
and sealed door peeps.

do we make our own dissapointments
by carefully watering our expectations

see weeds

sinking feeling

floating seeweeds

sprinkled with dust, of years of abandonment

and disinterest

brown earth coloured see weed

parasites of the unbound vast,

closed spaces

matted with tangled roots of free doom,

and octopuses and mollusks of a different kind.

I'd rather have everything i want right with me
than to wake up and realise i was only dreaming.

But just then

When you come home to a place where lying alone in the night,

you can hear the street sounds clearer than your own thoughts

your appetite for life just gets lost in those very streets

commented on by perverse juvenile boyfaced men.

and finally when those thoughts do seem to manage to get you to notice

they have become so loud,

that you would give anything to listen to those street sounds

just one more time,

but just then,

the whole world goes to sleep.

why i write..... part 2

If you would not be forgotten,

as soon as you are dead and rotten,

either write things worth reading,

or do the things worth the writing.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

Amidst the grain of sandust

I pass by the same place that the sealed envelope came from
the same address beckons me to relive those memories
of jumping from one balcony to another, secretly
waking up early, even though there could be nothing more
that i loved than sleep,
just to be able to wake you up,
to look at you sleep for hours,
funny, how two days can become your entire lifetime of memories
funny, how those memories
have rusted this solitary place forever.
the place that gave me more to hope for than i could imagine
amidst the grains of sandust
in teddybear pajamas.

The defogging

A long and steady road, just beginning to defog
i was consistent, walking linear, curious
waiting for the road to end any minute,
now that the fog has cleared
the only thing in sight
is the road
omnipotent
the urge and hope has defogged too
clarity can sometimes be worse than doubt.

in time

Sometimes, when you leave a place, there are certain images, certain memories that remain forever embedded to that place that journey or that trip,and those faint rememberances put a smile on your face everytime you think about it
and years later when you happen to visit that place, that moment, that person, that song,
there is nothing of the thing that you always cherished
there is nothign left in the person,i n the bricks,
places and people exist only in the dimension of time,
and the sooner we accept that the better,
because going back to your most deeply felt and cherished moments,
and finding them abominally different and unfamiliar, can be one of the most painful things to your present.
because reality can never match up.

the oak tree

what do i gain from a thousand hopes, and a thousand wildred names,

what do i find in a thousand oaks, but a thousand different names,

etched in the bark, scraped in brutally,

so far, that the rings of years, are exposed,

so far that the only thing left concealed,

is a nestling of a hopeful sparrow in my bosom

so far that the tiny sparrow is only within an inch

of the very blade

that you wield.

A Split Second

I thought i saw something move,
back in those spaces,
hidden from my view,
the spaces that time does not permit me to see,
i turn around i see you
dash out
i will forever remember that expression on your face
that i caught the glimpse of for a split second
that split second, will haunt me for the rest of my nights.

A split second in an eternity
An eternity in a split second

A mistletoe

Once upon, a mistletoe,
had a fit and went to Rome;

That summer was called the season of doom,
left, right and centre everyone crashed,
into love, there was no choice, no respite;

Many hearts broke afresh,
to see thier loved one's undying quest;
they found love anew,
and bid thier past adieu;

The mistletoe came to its sense
lay in bed all night, extremely tense;
decided to stay back in Rome,
one city is enough harm done.

My friend Darwin

i know that because of what i am about to write i maybe interpreted by some cynical practical people as the ideal case of bipolar mood disorder.( it is an actual disorder!)
i believe that things have a way of working out.
as cliched as that my sound,
i believe that when something is meant to happen, the whole universe( yes all of it! and im not exhaggerating) comes together to make it happen,
and all the instances in your measly life even bad, happen for a reason...
may not always be for a good reason, but nonetheless it is...
here again i go back to Darwins theory,
adaptation, my friend is the key....
i thought i was rigid and evaded any change even if it meant a change of bathroom slippers!!!!
but im surprised at how easily a human being ( read me ) can adapt when there really is no way out...
so here i am, truly dedicated to Darwin,
happy and Darwinised...
and Lemonised if i may add... ;)

why do wishes come true?

a serious dearth of happenings,
leads me to believe,
or hope rather,
something of a bigger stature,
arrives in a parcel, sooner than later.
some people just dpnt know what to wish for...
and why oh why, do wishes come true....

i come home to it, and travel away to work to it
and come back to it yet again,
ever pervasive, all permanent solitary

Alone in a city full of strangers
i think i belong

Serendipity laughs n my face....
4th Feb 10:55 am
The same sunlight sparkles, the same cool breeze,
the warm winter sun and a cup of chai
and ofcourse my notebook.
The uncanny thread that binds in such deceptively smiliar fashion,
a begining and an end,
melts away all my doubts and leaves only blissful solitude...

Chai Gate

I am now on my way to Pune, and somehow there is one recollection that refuses to let go of me, it breings a smile on my face everytime i think about it.

On my last day in Nid, i had to take care of a few last moment things, meetigns with faculty , officalt letters eetc. I was in a desperate hurry and to add to my dismay my faculty was not in his cabin. In the wait i decided to have one last hot cup of chai at the 'chai gate'. The chai gate is the melting pot of all creative and non creative interation, people sit for hours at this place sipping on endless cups of tea and munching on endless plates of bhajiya, ( the gravity and the value of this place is easier understood if you are an NIdian) and endless discussions ensue on all kinds of imaginable and unimaginable topics possible.

On this particular morning i happened to be the first visitor to this holy place.

I ordered my chai took out a notebook and wrote a few lines, as i sipped the recurring thought that this may never happen again kept flashing.
But that feeling of a warm winter sun, a hot cup of chai, a clean sheet of paper and my fvourite place in the world, made me realise that this really is the end, and i couldnt help but smile despite that.

sometimes, well mostly when i read what i have written,
i have no recollection of what i might have been thinking,
infact whats scarier is the fact that its hard for me to even
accept that all that came out of my head.

even from far away

Firewood, hay, brittle, vulnerable
needs but one splinter, to wreck it.
One match, even touching from a distance is enough
solution : keep it dipped in water.
Make a pickle, and eat the goddamn trouble maker.