Ever ran after a mirage, mistaking it for the real thing?
knowing well that u were left in the same spot earlier
still looking at the mirage at constant distance
Ever tried running afte a thin sheet of paper
in a windstorm?
Ever entrusted all your hopes and dreams
on the fleck of a feather that may not ever reach the ground?

The grey white man and his colourful balloons

There are some instances which otherwise would go unnoticed, but if you take a second to
sit and notice it really,
you realise how preposterously heartless the human race has become, and how unbelievable cruel things have taken on an attire of virility and god knows what justifications.
Yesterday, i was sitting in a cafe with a friend, next to a huge glass wall which overlooked the every busy and touristy mg road.
It seems like the whole of Pune comes out in the late evenings to relax with their friends, their loved ones.
The atmosphere is always of joy and happy purchases, and of course coffee.
this seemed like the perfect table to sit and relax, and space out looking at the thousands of people and cars, and vendors, the likes.
There is something about glass walls, that in an instant distances you from the inches of proximity, just like that.
So, me and my friend, celebrating the fact that i have come an hour early from the office, have snuggled in this cozy corner looking out waiting for the order.
And out of nowhere, this teddy bear of a man,
appears in front of us on the other side of the glass,
he is wearing a white ( which is so endearingly grey now )
separated by a sheet of transparency, we can barely hear him,
suddenly i feel like a spectator in a zoo,
and a showpiece in a shop, both at the same time.
This man, all white and grey,
the nehru topi,
the pathani, and a white beard,
the baby fat probably never left him, or maybe came back after youth.
Holding out a bunch of brightly coloured balloons,
not insisting, just smiling at us,
i burst out laughing at the suddenness of the situation
and also at the warm feeling he created in me, making me want to hug him,
like a grandfather, ( for reasons that shall be explained in another post, both my grandfathers
have never really invoked in me the feeling of the relationship, talked so much about in stories)
hes there just smiling, laughing in fact at my sudden laugh,
his head slightly tilted back in a ho ho ho laughter,
both of us, i like to believe shared a moment, which would linger.
And again out of nowhere,
he is kicked and pushed aside by this
young dutiful policemen, hollering at him for troubling us...
that moment was lost, the good humor was lost,
and everything else that cannot be described in words was also lost.
A new feeling took its place,
one of disturbance, of pity
of empathy,
and of overwhelming guilt.
He disappeared into the night,
with his colourful balloons,
and his whiteness turned grey,
all the color drained from his face,
into the oblivion, right where he came from,
he left his smile while leaving, with me,
i wish to return it if i get a chance.

Trapeze artist in making

Have you ever felt so numb

that every thought became a motion blur

so tired of trying to answer the questions in your head

that you felt exhausted in precisely 10 min of waking up.

have you ever done meaningless routine chores

just so you could do something that doesnt involve thinking

have you waited for that very answer

knowing youd be a trapeze artist sooner..

have you ever looked down from a height and wondered

what itll be like to float above all this, everything

and just exist. in this dimension. for once.

Not Knots

The thin strand of patience,
that hope has rambunctiously laced in my habit,
is nearing its break...
a knot has already formed in anticipation.
leaving scars and festering past.

To write and not to write

when i begin a post, i know exactly what the first sentence is going to be,
it just occurs to me in an occupied state and then i know i have to pour it out,
well, today
i want to write ,
but i don't know what this post will consist,
but I'm still writing it,
whats more, you are still reading it.....
that's just a sorry state of affairs,
the fact
that you are still reading it,
hoping to find some shred of anything that remotely makes sense......
well
this is
too depressing for my weak heart.
ill write something worthwhile to make you feel better,


have a good day.

Splendid luck

What flush of splendid luck
spate of undeniable unquestionable good favor
of glorious meetings with no eyes, no ears and no mouths.
only thoughts of unmatched frequencies,
and unanswered telepathy.

The day i left

recently i visited nid,

and the slight change creeping in secretly left a shooting pain,

but the want to make most of these few days with the only people i could care to be with,

made me feel that this now in pune is a break from being where i belong,

and the quality of these days has way overpowered the quantity,

these four days were so jampacked with experiences, emotions, that i wanted to grab and snatch,

the it feels like a fortnight.

and yet again, i thanked my sheer good luck to have found such people, such soulmates.

leaving, i split myself in two, left one the one with bones made out of nostalgia,

right there, in the spaces, with the person who suddenly feels lonely the day i leave.