from the summit of exhilaration to the deepest pit of helplessness.
the distance was covered in precisely 43 seconds.
holding on to the slope, digging my claws, i try to crawl my way up again,
but the rain doesnt stop.
my hands slip. its too dark, i cant see where i am.
there are two ways, up to the summit, again... but its difficult to hold on.
or give my tired body and broken fingernails, the rest they deserve.
i decide abruptly to leave, just let go. but only after one last haul,
i heave all my strength, trying to make sense out of shadows in the inky night.
through, the thick layer of water that has now somehow collected in my eyes,
blurring even those shadows
and i push my body... deliver one last kiss of hope.
there is no response... just the deadly deafening roar of silence and withdrawl.
i decide to leave, this time, not so abruptly.
but with intention.
in the void of darkness, i feel an overpowering force,
am i flying, or falling
only time will tell....
i give myself to the darkness.
swallow it hungrily...
in search of the end of it all.
this time not so abruptly.
but with an intention.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
the quest for nectar
sometimes judgements fail me.
realising that the last time, i fall into it yet again.
the belief that i carry the burden of.... the belief of the eternal goodness of the human soul....
is what makes me commit the biggest of mistakes and blunders, and the most beautiful ones too.
every time the compulsive need to meet new people, know new cultures, new ways of thinking, is almost too much of a temptation for me to resist.
im a slave of habit. and habit is the most floundering thing i possess.
like an extremely restless butterfly. meandering, frivilous.
But equally alluring with rainbow wings.
and only at these times do i realise, that whatever i may believe, i still have a lot to learn,
in order to be falterless in my decisions and my choices.
a lot many years before i can say that, the decision i have taken is the only one i should have taken.
and only at these times, i know that my parents are not wrong when they say, you are but only a child.
the child in me looks for the parent, finding a slight resemblance, the butterfly settles, but it takes only a few moments to realise that, this is all i can get here, and it flies again.
fluttering about aimlessly, charaterlessly.
but i forget... butterflies dont give away their heart and soul to every flower they settle on.
they know only one thing.
the undying incessant quest for nectar.
realising that the last time, i fall into it yet again.
the belief that i carry the burden of.... the belief of the eternal goodness of the human soul....
is what makes me commit the biggest of mistakes and blunders, and the most beautiful ones too.
every time the compulsive need to meet new people, know new cultures, new ways of thinking, is almost too much of a temptation for me to resist.
im a slave of habit. and habit is the most floundering thing i possess.
like an extremely restless butterfly. meandering, frivilous.
But equally alluring with rainbow wings.
and only at these times do i realise, that whatever i may believe, i still have a lot to learn,
in order to be falterless in my decisions and my choices.
a lot many years before i can say that, the decision i have taken is the only one i should have taken.
and only at these times, i know that my parents are not wrong when they say, you are but only a child.
the child in me looks for the parent, finding a slight resemblance, the butterfly settles, but it takes only a few moments to realise that, this is all i can get here, and it flies again.
fluttering about aimlessly, charaterlessly.
but i forget... butterflies dont give away their heart and soul to every flower they settle on.
they know only one thing.
the undying incessant quest for nectar.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
says Orhan Pamuk and me
As you know, the question we writers are asked most often, the favourite question, is;
why do you write? I write because I have an innate need to write! I write because I can't do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write.
I write because I am angry at all of you, angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I want others, all of us, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at all of you, so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page, I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all of life's beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story, but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can't quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.
why do you write? I write because I have an innate need to write! I write because I can't do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write.
I write because I am angry at all of you, angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I want others, all of us, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at all of you, so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page, I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all of life's beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story, but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can't quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
my extended family
there is such beauty is friendship...
be it as fresh and new as the coming of winters... or as old and crass as my grandmothers pillow, the contours of which i know like the back of my hand.
i had heard somewhere that families need not be biological... and i laughed and poo pooed the treacherous lumps of mankind that believed in this.
over the years of staying away from the only 3 people i knew to be my family, my world... being on my own...
has made me (no matter however much i try to deny it, with contemptuous disbelief) very dependent on certain people.
and dependant not in a life sucking loathsome manner, but in a very unconditional, pleasantly tingling manner, which makes me shudder with disbelief at my good luck.
it started with one person who came to be so important that, without realising that person had become an integral and uningnorable part of my world, my family.
and my roomates, who unconditionally took me to be a part of their worlds too.
not immediately.. but slowly ... progressively.
and the joy one feels when,
a friend finally confides in you walking on a road with you, after listening patiently to so may of your stories. and you cant believe why they would trust you with something so intimate.
a friend telling you how much they care for you... next only to their lover.
a friend telling me that they want to hold me till i feel ok again.
a friend guiding on the road as if their life depended on it not mine..
a friend keeping track of my pms knowing how nasty i become during that time, and still waiting for my mood swing to turn the other way.
a friend i want to meet everyday.. even though they are two continents away.
and to think.. i was immature enough to think.. that only 3 people are my family, my world...
sounds as blasphemous as silly.
cheers to this undoubtedly precious form of expanding your family, your world, your love.
be it as fresh and new as the coming of winters... or as old and crass as my grandmothers pillow, the contours of which i know like the back of my hand.
i had heard somewhere that families need not be biological... and i laughed and poo pooed the treacherous lumps of mankind that believed in this.
over the years of staying away from the only 3 people i knew to be my family, my world... being on my own...
has made me (no matter however much i try to deny it, with contemptuous disbelief) very dependent on certain people.
and dependant not in a life sucking loathsome manner, but in a very unconditional, pleasantly tingling manner, which makes me shudder with disbelief at my good luck.
it started with one person who came to be so important that, without realising that person had become an integral and uningnorable part of my world, my family.
and my roomates, who unconditionally took me to be a part of their worlds too.
not immediately.. but slowly ... progressively.
and the joy one feels when,
a friend finally confides in you walking on a road with you, after listening patiently to so may of your stories. and you cant believe why they would trust you with something so intimate.
a friend telling you how much they care for you... next only to their lover.
a friend telling me that they want to hold me till i feel ok again.
a friend guiding on the road as if their life depended on it not mine..
a friend keeping track of my pms knowing how nasty i become during that time, and still waiting for my mood swing to turn the other way.
a friend i want to meet everyday.. even though they are two continents away.
and to think.. i was immature enough to think.. that only 3 people are my family, my world...
sounds as blasphemous as silly.
cheers to this undoubtedly precious form of expanding your family, your world, your love.
Friday, October 19, 2007
i let go
there are times in everyones lives.
when all the things taught to us when we were small, become immaterial.
all the times when channels were changed. all the times when conversations ended abruptly.
all the times. when you accepted the norms without questioning.
they all have no importance.
perhaps because you discover another way of thinking.
a way that is your own, that you have built on your own.
that is not borrowed.
a way that you are free to question, dismantle, and rebuild. in faith.
and you let yourself disregard all that you had learnt to believe as the truth.
and let your new found thinking take over.
through all my doubts.
i let go
never to be innocent agian.
regret is too far away. blurry.
faith returns with a vengeance.
the same faith that i had disowned.
making me feel dirty more than violated.
dirty to the depths of my soul and my being.
phenyl flowing in the bloodstream would not be able to clean it.
regret is now a part of me.
and sometimes, i wish i didnt question so much.
i wish i had stopped myself.
i wish i hadnt let go.
when all the things taught to us when we were small, become immaterial.
all the times when channels were changed. all the times when conversations ended abruptly.
all the times. when you accepted the norms without questioning.
they all have no importance.
perhaps because you discover another way of thinking.
a way that is your own, that you have built on your own.
that is not borrowed.
a way that you are free to question, dismantle, and rebuild. in faith.
and you let yourself disregard all that you had learnt to believe as the truth.
and let your new found thinking take over.
through all my doubts.
i let go
never to be innocent agian.
regret is too far away. blurry.
faith returns with a vengeance.
the same faith that i had disowned.
making me feel dirty more than violated.
dirty to the depths of my soul and my being.
phenyl flowing in the bloodstream would not be able to clean it.
regret is now a part of me.
and sometimes, i wish i didnt question so much.
i wish i had stopped myself.
i wish i hadnt let go.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
with malice towards one and all
there is this dirty incestuous desire .
to possess malice.
something i could never own.
something i long to hold onto. but it always slips away.
something i desperately try to invite, every time i try...
try to be mean.
to push away.
to bitch.
to repulse.
to possess.
to be sarcastic.
try too hard perhaps.
bordering on obsession.
i dont know when or how it came to be so important.
but i know why it did.
to build a wall of bitterness around me.
so that none of it from anyone else may effect me.
but no matter how much i try.
my dilapidated attempts at the construction of the wall are diluted with the lack of improper upbringing, but strengthened by improper schooling.
the first one prevails.
and unfailingly. the wall gets punctured.... in its nascent stages.
exposing to the world... the me that i thought was well protected.
and im caught unawares.
and thats when it hits the hardest.
bullet fast.
and unwarranted, unexpected.
to possess malice.
something i could never own.
something i long to hold onto. but it always slips away.
something i desperately try to invite, every time i try...
try to be mean.
to push away.
to bitch.
to repulse.
to possess.
to be sarcastic.
try too hard perhaps.
bordering on obsession.
i dont know when or how it came to be so important.
but i know why it did.
to build a wall of bitterness around me.
so that none of it from anyone else may effect me.
but no matter how much i try.
my dilapidated attempts at the construction of the wall are diluted with the lack of improper upbringing, but strengthened by improper schooling.
the first one prevails.
and unfailingly. the wall gets punctured.... in its nascent stages.
exposing to the world... the me that i thought was well protected.
and im caught unawares.
and thats when it hits the hardest.
bullet fast.
and unwarranted, unexpected.
Monday, October 15, 2007
15th october
fuck the guy who invented the roman calender and the concept of birthdays.
calculative sadist of a man.
single handedly playing with and mindfucking so many people....
since time immemorial.
why the hell can birthdays not be like normal days?
why the hulaaballo?
why the cake and the song?
utterly fake wishes
and even more fake hugs.
i say intelligent parents should hide their childrens birthdays.
and not involve them in this bufoonery that exists in such a mindnumbing size all over the word.
what is more surprising is that even after so many years of civilised living... no one has been able to do anything about it.
no one has ever realised the agenda behind archies greetings.
or even if they have they choose to indulge in it anyways.
i boycott birthdays.
till
the first birthday of my baby...
calculative sadist of a man.
single handedly playing with and mindfucking so many people....
since time immemorial.
why the hell can birthdays not be like normal days?
why the hulaaballo?
why the cake and the song?
utterly fake wishes
and even more fake hugs.
i say intelligent parents should hide their childrens birthdays.
and not involve them in this bufoonery that exists in such a mindnumbing size all over the word.
what is more surprising is that even after so many years of civilised living... no one has been able to do anything about it.
no one has ever realised the agenda behind archies greetings.
or even if they have they choose to indulge in it anyways.
i boycott birthdays.
till
the first birthday of my baby...
Friday, October 12, 2007
respect
if you keep respect the basis of every relationship.
it will never go wrong.
it is the one thing.. that makes everything else immaterial.
and if its there... every relationship,
the most strongest ones can be built on it.
and if at any moment you realise that has gone missing,
or god forbid was never there to start with...
its never too late....
just walk off...
dont even think twice...
and if a relationship there is immense mutual respect....
sometimes... thats enough....
and even if it isnt... it will take off from there...
invest.
it will never go wrong.
it is the one thing.. that makes everything else immaterial.
and if its there... every relationship,
the most strongest ones can be built on it.
and if at any moment you realise that has gone missing,
or god forbid was never there to start with...
its never too late....
just walk off...
dont even think twice...
and if a relationship there is immense mutual respect....
sometimes... thats enough....
and even if it isnt... it will take off from there...
invest.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
stay away anyway
out of nowhere, splinters dig into my skin.
splinters, shards...
shards of piercing insensitivity.
of words that come out never to be taken back again.
words that shatter and form splinters.... minute and massive
burning eyes.
prickly words.
no amount of astringent will work once they scrach, prick, enter my bloodstream.
nothing and no one can ever alter that.
because besides the ones that pierce....
there are many more suspended... floating.
like fog, blurring my vision.
forcing me to walk blind folded.
and keep one arms distance.
detect danger. stay away.
if you are unable to detect it. stay away anyway.
splinters, shards...
shards of piercing insensitivity.
of words that come out never to be taken back again.
words that shatter and form splinters.... minute and massive
burning eyes.
prickly words.
no amount of astringent will work once they scrach, prick, enter my bloodstream.
nothing and no one can ever alter that.
because besides the ones that pierce....
there are many more suspended... floating.
like fog, blurring my vision.
forcing me to walk blind folded.
and keep one arms distance.
detect danger. stay away.
if you are unable to detect it. stay away anyway.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
apt
came across this in a movie which i saw right now.... found it quite relevant to my life...
or for that matter anyone elses....
"There should be adventure in life, otherwise its just a bunch of thursdays strung together."
so apt..... funny how apt is such a small word that conveys so much.
i think ive been getting kicks since a few days out of words and their construction...
and i guess everyone will just have to bear with any further lines in future which start with.. "funny how this word is...."
hey... dont judge me.. not just yet.
or for that matter anyone elses....
"There should be adventure in life, otherwise its just a bunch of thursdays strung together."
so apt..... funny how apt is such a small word that conveys so much.
i think ive been getting kicks since a few days out of words and their construction...
and i guess everyone will just have to bear with any further lines in future which start with.. "funny how this word is...."
hey... dont judge me.. not just yet.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
brobdingnagian
i dont know why most people dont understand how easy it is to make someone happy.
and how much meaning it gives you to actually watch someone react when you do something small, that you know counts.
small thoughts. small actions. actions that show you care.
actions that take hardly any effort, make a difference so huge...
so huge that huge is hardly big enough a word to describe it.
brobdingnagian is more like it...
ps. that is actually a word...honest...it means huge plus sounds so much more like the meaning... haha...
and how much meaning it gives you to actually watch someone react when you do something small, that you know counts.
small thoughts. small actions. actions that show you care.
actions that take hardly any effort, make a difference so huge...
so huge that huge is hardly big enough a word to describe it.
brobdingnagian is more like it...
ps. that is actually a word...honest...it means huge plus sounds so much more like the meaning... haha...
Monday, October 8, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
the science of sleep
sleep is the strangest phenomina.
the subcomscious taking over the conscious or the conscious taking over the subconscious?
we will never know.
to what occurance can we then label things like sleep walking, talking in sleep , doing things that you would not do consciously.
now what do you do when someone is saying something in front of you while they are sleeping, or doing something to you?
do you move away, and in the process wake them up..... let thme wake up in the situation, embarrased?
or let them go ahead whateve they are doing?
do you believe that they are sleeping?
are people unaware of what they do while they sleep? or they just use it as an excuse?... because well lets face it.. sleep is one of the mysteries of the human mind that no one can say they have deciphered. do you trust your heart or your brain or the other person? and let yourself be violated, be revealed secrets to, be talked to, be sung to, be laughed with... there are a billion questions, that need answers. and i have not the slightest idea why im posting them here. hoping from an answer from a lifeless screen? or from myself.
i have not the slightest idea.
what is deja vu all about?
is it that our whole life is pre planned... and comes to us while we are sleeping... and sometimes when we go through the incidents that we saw.. we realise we have gone through them before....
is it that we know what our destiny is?
is it that in the end... no matter how many questions we ask we now what is going to happen in the end?
i have not the slightest idea.
the subcomscious taking over the conscious or the conscious taking over the subconscious?
we will never know.
to what occurance can we then label things like sleep walking, talking in sleep , doing things that you would not do consciously.
now what do you do when someone is saying something in front of you while they are sleeping, or doing something to you?
do you move away, and in the process wake them up..... let thme wake up in the situation, embarrased?
or let them go ahead whateve they are doing?
do you believe that they are sleeping?
are people unaware of what they do while they sleep? or they just use it as an excuse?... because well lets face it.. sleep is one of the mysteries of the human mind that no one can say they have deciphered. do you trust your heart or your brain or the other person? and let yourself be violated, be revealed secrets to, be talked to, be sung to, be laughed with... there are a billion questions, that need answers. and i have not the slightest idea why im posting them here. hoping from an answer from a lifeless screen? or from myself.
i have not the slightest idea.
what is deja vu all about?
is it that our whole life is pre planned... and comes to us while we are sleeping... and sometimes when we go through the incidents that we saw.. we realise we have gone through them before....
is it that we know what our destiny is?
is it that in the end... no matter how many questions we ask we now what is going to happen in the end?
i have not the slightest idea.
experience, observe, internalise
this violent appetite for experience drives me mad.
of noting every small detail.
analysing, over analysing every situation,
every conversation, makes me draw such unearthly conclusions,
about myself about other people, about what i mean to other people.... the works.
i want to be able to express without being commented upon.
upon the way, i think, they way i talk, the way i look, the way i exaggerate... even when i dont.
i want to be able to not take every piece of verbal bullcrap diguised as the alphabet which is hurled at me from sometimes the most unexpected places, and sometimes from the most obvious.
i want to be able to be free in my mind and soul and my environment of categories.
of the urge and the need that the human mind has to compartmentalise human behaviour, generalise it to the extent that there ceases to be an entity called the individual.
i want to listen, to persuade, to interrupt, to help, to talk, to laugh, to be a confidante, to love, to be loved, to be fed with warmth, to feed warmth, to cleanse, to pray, to kiss, to loathe, to walk, to see, to make love, to draw, to sculpt, to massage, to soothe, to be the agony aunt, to cry, to sob vehemently, and yet to feel the tears on my burning skin travel down and wet my neck.
to experience.
oh how it drives me mad...
of noting every small detail.
analysing, over analysing every situation,
every conversation, makes me draw such unearthly conclusions,
about myself about other people, about what i mean to other people.... the works.
i want to be able to express without being commented upon.
upon the way, i think, they way i talk, the way i look, the way i exaggerate... even when i dont.
i want to be able to not take every piece of verbal bullcrap diguised as the alphabet which is hurled at me from sometimes the most unexpected places, and sometimes from the most obvious.
i want to be able to be free in my mind and soul and my environment of categories.
of the urge and the need that the human mind has to compartmentalise human behaviour, generalise it to the extent that there ceases to be an entity called the individual.
i want to listen, to persuade, to interrupt, to help, to talk, to laugh, to be a confidante, to love, to be loved, to be fed with warmth, to feed warmth, to cleanse, to pray, to kiss, to loathe, to walk, to see, to make love, to draw, to sculpt, to massage, to soothe, to be the agony aunt, to cry, to sob vehemently, and yet to feel the tears on my burning skin travel down and wet my neck.
to experience.
oh how it drives me mad...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
fatia
i declare in written ( so that i may not go back on it)
that i will write a book so moving
and a book so intense that no human being will ever be the same after reading it.
tall claim though it may seem.
yet it is a claim, perfectly innocent and striving.
and i have a right to be heard, to be waited for
till i can no longer distinguish between a desk from a human being.
maybe not even then.
not even when all i want to do is die without being dependant on anyone.
not even when im so busy making money that the reminiscent of this thought is so deep inside, that i might have to take a holiday to clean up my brain, and maybe come across it on some afternoon, sifting through old garbage.
all that
just because
i want to claim. and i have dared to claim.
and that claim to remain...
even after all that is left of me is a fatia on my kabr.
that i will write a book so moving
and a book so intense that no human being will ever be the same after reading it.
tall claim though it may seem.
yet it is a claim, perfectly innocent and striving.
and i have a right to be heard, to be waited for
till i can no longer distinguish between a desk from a human being.
maybe not even then.
not even when all i want to do is die without being dependant on anyone.
not even when im so busy making money that the reminiscent of this thought is so deep inside, that i might have to take a holiday to clean up my brain, and maybe come across it on some afternoon, sifting through old garbage.
all that
just because
i want to claim. and i have dared to claim.
and that claim to remain...
even after all that is left of me is a fatia on my kabr.
Monday, October 1, 2007
buoyancy
i think it is going ...
but i can never be too sure...
its like a termite....
keeps coming back...
eating away all the juicy stuff...
leaving skeletons...
and finely powdered hope
crushed in my hand... white shimmer...
like tar in the moonlight. sand in the sun
the more u want to hold it the more it slips.
and falls on the ground, scatters away to unknown lands.
frangments to individual unrecognisable grains.
trampled upon by prostitutes and beggars.
and pimps of reviere.
but i can never be too sure...
its like a termite....
keeps coming back...
eating away all the juicy stuff...
leaving skeletons...
and finely powdered hope
crushed in my hand... white shimmer...
like tar in the moonlight. sand in the sun
the more u want to hold it the more it slips.
and falls on the ground, scatters away to unknown lands.
frangments to individual unrecognisable grains.
trampled upon by prostitutes and beggars.
and pimps of reviere.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
trust
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.
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.
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.
Friday, August 31, 2007
shut up
anger controls your words, twists them and shakes them of their clothes,
naked, they hurt.
no cushioning.
there are some conversations that you can never forget, because of these very bare naked words, stripped of their ghosts of grammer and language.
pure rage.
does it mean something.
even if you try to tel yourself it was anger, once those words are out there in the world, naked for everyone to see and mock and notice with vulgar glances, the respect can never be regained.
which is why i keep shut.
the doors sometimes lock so tight that no amount of knocking and banging can get the sound across.
the peep holes are taped.
dont think its you...
its me.
it always was.
naked, they hurt.
no cushioning.
there are some conversations that you can never forget, because of these very bare naked words, stripped of their ghosts of grammer and language.
pure rage.
does it mean something.
even if you try to tel yourself it was anger, once those words are out there in the world, naked for everyone to see and mock and notice with vulgar glances, the respect can never be regained.
which is why i keep shut.
the doors sometimes lock so tight that no amount of knocking and banging can get the sound across.
the peep holes are taped.
dont think its you...
its me.
it always was.
remember
remember me for the pendulumn that i carry within me,
for the bubbles that errupt out of it
involuntary, soapy, soupy bubbles.
reflecting rainbow light.
touch them and they burst,
left alone they travel, with the wind floating
the heart still skips a beat, its scary to even try to understand why
the musty smell which used to suffocate, now is a constant companion.
air laden with moisture and salt, someday the cloud will be more full than it can hold.
and then light will travel faster than sound, sound that will scare little girls in thier beds,
sound that will bring many people closer, and take away many more from thier loved.
intricate etchings leave beautiful patterns,
leave the acid longer and the holding fabric burns away.
a perpetual itch.
nothing to soothe.
only water and love.
for the bubbles that errupt out of it
involuntary, soapy, soupy bubbles.
reflecting rainbow light.
touch them and they burst,
left alone they travel, with the wind floating
the heart still skips a beat, its scary to even try to understand why
the musty smell which used to suffocate, now is a constant companion.
air laden with moisture and salt, someday the cloud will be more full than it can hold.
and then light will travel faster than sound, sound that will scare little girls in thier beds,
sound that will bring many people closer, and take away many more from thier loved.
intricate etchings leave beautiful patterns,
leave the acid longer and the holding fabric burns away.
a perpetual itch.
nothing to soothe.
only water and love.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
faith
permanence is a myth.
something that everyone likes to believe.
some say change is the the driver for life. if everythings permanent then our life will stagnate.
i beg to differ.
everything need not be permanent, but somethings if are not permanent cause discomfort and considerable distress which in turn hampers the productive working of our mind.
security is what every human being works for at the end of the day.
having these few things permanent in our lives will give us the security and the support to get on with more productive things than worrying about these things changing.
We cross so many things, so many people in our lives, we leave behind so many, and are left behind by many more with nothing but question marks.
It is difficult to point out one thing that you would ask for.
If i had a wish, i wont even have to think twice to ask for one thing. i know exactly what.
come to think of it why do i have to wait for a wish?
it is said that if you ask for something in faith you will get it..
well im holding onto my faith so tight, im sure its having difficulty breathing.
something that everyone likes to believe.
some say change is the the driver for life. if everythings permanent then our life will stagnate.
i beg to differ.
everything need not be permanent, but somethings if are not permanent cause discomfort and considerable distress which in turn hampers the productive working of our mind.
security is what every human being works for at the end of the day.
having these few things permanent in our lives will give us the security and the support to get on with more productive things than worrying about these things changing.
We cross so many things, so many people in our lives, we leave behind so many, and are left behind by many more with nothing but question marks.
It is difficult to point out one thing that you would ask for.
If i had a wish, i wont even have to think twice to ask for one thing. i know exactly what.
come to think of it why do i have to wait for a wish?
it is said that if you ask for something in faith you will get it..
well im holding onto my faith so tight, im sure its having difficulty breathing.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
i'll try
always in the search of something as elusive and slippery as sand, we forget to live our normal lives.
that object varies from person to person.
belief in things like hope, destiny, love, faith, god, stops us from doing the real work... of living.
romanticising the mundane.
wrapping up words with layers of shimmer.
i seem to have gotten really good at it.
at pretending that there is something beter, right across the corner,
only when i get there its always the next corner.
why does desire still persist.
interpreting reality in the way you like it, sugar coating it till its so sweet , it makes you sick.
salt water leaks.
it has to drain out.
it will take years, decades... what i initiate now.
it will leave me incomplete, for the rest of my life....
For now i start dropping off pieces of me, pieces i once treasured, loved.. that have come to be part of me as easily as salt in water, with just a little bit of stirring.
its difficult to remove the salt once its mixed.
i'll try.
pieces of me that do nothing but burn, and hurt.
that object varies from person to person.
belief in things like hope, destiny, love, faith, god, stops us from doing the real work... of living.
romanticising the mundane.
wrapping up words with layers of shimmer.
i seem to have gotten really good at it.
at pretending that there is something beter, right across the corner,
only when i get there its always the next corner.
why does desire still persist.
interpreting reality in the way you like it, sugar coating it till its so sweet , it makes you sick.
salt water leaks.
it has to drain out.
it will take years, decades... what i initiate now.
it will leave me incomplete, for the rest of my life....
For now i start dropping off pieces of me, pieces i once treasured, loved.. that have come to be part of me as easily as salt in water, with just a little bit of stirring.
its difficult to remove the salt once its mixed.
i'll try.
pieces of me that do nothing but burn, and hurt.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
my buddy
i assume it is the perfect day when i get up every morning...
somtimes my assumtions are true.. keeping my faith in the goodness in the skies...
and more than sometimes they dont.. i mope, i curse, swear on the one in those very skies.. never to have faith.
and yet everyday.. i assume.
i assume becuase i have no other choice.
because most of me lives in the skies.. right next door to the one who makes all the decisions.
we used to be best buddies.. sometime along the way.. he got busy with his other creations...
and i got busy doing he only knows wot...
and gradually, we lost touch.
to a point where we even started doubting each others existence in our lives...
i had moved out.. moved on... to a better place, with more friendly neighbours....
unpacking my luggage, i found an old leather album,
mould green, putrid smeeling, vomit colored memories.
i put it out in the sun..
for all the moisture and seepages to evaporate...
early morning...
the album, i remembered... had some very old forgotten emotions packed, framed inside.. laminated.. blocked....
more dust flew off with every movement of the cloth,
filling it with more memories than one person can have in a lifetime... collected over the years....
there in all the pictures, was my buddy, my best friend
who i didnt even remember the surname of.
my senses came slapping like cold chilling wind.
and i ran...
to my old place, my house, my neighbour next door. the one who still made all my decions, without me realising it.. from up in those skies... right where i left him...
i opened his door...
he was sitting cross legged like a baby.. right on the other side of the door...
waiting, growing old... waiting..
for me,
to return. to let go.
my other neighbours.. still write ... asking me to return...
somtimes my assumtions are true.. keeping my faith in the goodness in the skies...
and more than sometimes they dont.. i mope, i curse, swear on the one in those very skies.. never to have faith.
and yet everyday.. i assume.
i assume becuase i have no other choice.
because most of me lives in the skies.. right next door to the one who makes all the decisions.
we used to be best buddies.. sometime along the way.. he got busy with his other creations...
and i got busy doing he only knows wot...
and gradually, we lost touch.
to a point where we even started doubting each others existence in our lives...
i had moved out.. moved on... to a better place, with more friendly neighbours....
unpacking my luggage, i found an old leather album,
mould green, putrid smeeling, vomit colored memories.
i put it out in the sun..
for all the moisture and seepages to evaporate...
early morning...
the album, i remembered... had some very old forgotten emotions packed, framed inside.. laminated.. blocked....
more dust flew off with every movement of the cloth,
filling it with more memories than one person can have in a lifetime... collected over the years....
there in all the pictures, was my buddy, my best friend
who i didnt even remember the surname of.
my senses came slapping like cold chilling wind.
and i ran...
to my old place, my house, my neighbour next door. the one who still made all my decions, without me realising it.. from up in those skies... right where i left him...
i opened his door...
he was sitting cross legged like a baby.. right on the other side of the door...
waiting, growing old... waiting..
for me,
to return. to let go.
my other neighbours.. still write ... asking me to return...
let me
my days pass in a blur.
unfocused foggy.
too fast or too slow?
its hard to make out..
every moment seems like an eternity..
yet at the end of the day it seems like a mere moment.
unproductive nights and even more lethargic mornings....
time like a termite gnawing at my insides...
eating away..
infested ..
shake me,
take away my earth,
my ground.
let me fall face down..
let my nose bleed...
bleed till the floor is red.
dont touch me..
dont pick me up.
let me come to my senses,
wipe my blood,
on my own
and start a fresh
heal.....
unfocused foggy.
too fast or too slow?
its hard to make out..
every moment seems like an eternity..
yet at the end of the day it seems like a mere moment.
unproductive nights and even more lethargic mornings....
time like a termite gnawing at my insides...
eating away..
infested ..
shake me,
take away my earth,
my ground.
let me fall face down..
let my nose bleed...
bleed till the floor is red.
dont touch me..
dont pick me up.
let me come to my senses,
wipe my blood,
on my own
and start a fresh
heal.....
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
my bag
Heaving a bag of memories,
i walk on...
Someone opens my bag... and they fly..
If i knew, i'd jump, run, catch them
and stuff them back in my bag.
Shut it tight, where they belong, they must stay..
i walk on...
Someone opens my bag... and they fly..
If i knew, i'd jump, run, catch them
and stuff them back in my bag.
Shut it tight, where they belong, they must stay..
Saturday, August 11, 2007
to the person who is reading my blog right now
sometimes it becomes really hard tell a close friend what you feel..
maybe because of something they said or something you did...
distance sets in. leaving behind all the moments you have shared.
unknowingly, without warning, it slides in and before you realise it starts building a comfortable spot for itself.. growing, expanding...
and nothing ever can reverse the procees..
it leaves holes ... big massive voids... wherever it moves...
vaccum expanding.
defying gravity
leaving footprints on the past.
caked mud.
maybe because of something they said or something you did...
distance sets in. leaving behind all the moments you have shared.
unknowingly, without warning, it slides in and before you realise it starts building a comfortable spot for itself.. growing, expanding...
and nothing ever can reverse the procees..
it leaves holes ... big massive voids... wherever it moves...
vaccum expanding.
defying gravity
leaving footprints on the past.
caked mud.
Friday, August 10, 2007
chaddar
as a child each and every one of us have a favourite chaddar that we have to have to have with us when our mommies tuck us in bed.
its our constant companion ( in some cases there might be a stuff toy in instead)
when we sleep, when we get up, and if in case its not there how much we make a fuss over wrong timings for laundry...
bestest buddy.. specially when we need to bury our faces in it and sob and sob and sob our lungs out, complaining about how unfair life is.....
we sob into its shoulders, tell it our life stories..... and then... leave it on our bed and go to our daily routine... leaving it unfolded to come back to in the night.
as we grow up, this chaddar gets relaced by other things, computers, another chaddar,
and sometimes other people.
these people are left unfolded behind, wanting, wasted.
without realising that you are also someones chaddar too.. equally wanting and wasted..
slightly wet from their lives, stories seeping secretly in our folds ...
unfolded unkempt creases.
its our constant companion ( in some cases there might be a stuff toy in instead)
when we sleep, when we get up, and if in case its not there how much we make a fuss over wrong timings for laundry...
bestest buddy.. specially when we need to bury our faces in it and sob and sob and sob our lungs out, complaining about how unfair life is.....
we sob into its shoulders, tell it our life stories..... and then... leave it on our bed and go to our daily routine... leaving it unfolded to come back to in the night.
as we grow up, this chaddar gets relaced by other things, computers, another chaddar,
and sometimes other people.
these people are left unfolded behind, wanting, wasted.
without realising that you are also someones chaddar too.. equally wanting and wasted..
slightly wet from their lives, stories seeping secretly in our folds ...
unfolded unkempt creases.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
thursday morning
dreaming a dream for one whole night can be quite exhausting.. especially when its not to your liking..
its so much better when the dream is unrealistically scary...
cause its scarier when its so possible that you cant get over the vividness of it.
you dont want to get up because you want to see what happens next.. but you dont wanna sleep more cause your not particulary likong whats happening...
you know what i mean by exhausting now...
so strange how a dream can make you come back to reality. and stop dreaming...
and its so comforting to have the luxury of being able to go next door and find a sleepy friend ready to hug you and console you even though all she can think of is sleep.
and in the warm sleepy embrace you finally find the comfort to let your tears flow...
its so much better when the dream is unrealistically scary...
cause its scarier when its so possible that you cant get over the vividness of it.
you dont want to get up because you want to see what happens next.. but you dont wanna sleep more cause your not particulary likong whats happening...
you know what i mean by exhausting now...
so strange how a dream can make you come back to reality. and stop dreaming...
and its so comforting to have the luxury of being able to go next door and find a sleepy friend ready to hug you and console you even though all she can think of is sleep.
and in the warm sleepy embrace you finally find the comfort to let your tears flow...
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
learning to say no is the most difficult lesson of ones life
especially if you have to say it to someone you love...
you just let yourself go along with everythign
giving the person your benefit of doubt.
without realising that bit by bit you are loosing your worth in your own eyes.
it may feel comfortable to say yes... to assume that everything is just as you want it to be...
but in reality you have to learn to say no in order to retain your dignity.
because without dignity... you are nothing but an animal...
especially if you have to say it to someone you love...
you just let yourself go along with everythign
giving the person your benefit of doubt.
without realising that bit by bit you are loosing your worth in your own eyes.
it may feel comfortable to say yes... to assume that everything is just as you want it to be...
but in reality you have to learn to say no in order to retain your dignity.
because without dignity... you are nothing but an animal...
Monday, August 6, 2007
Remember.... by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
geoffrey
once upon a time, ther was a tiny kitten, discovered by a bunch of kids...
and named geofrrey,
it soon became a dear friend.
one of the little girls, felt specially close it.
she had never liked cats before.. innfact despised them....
but there was something inthe eyes of this little one, which drew her to it...
and they made friends..
she would tell the kitten about her life, every otherday
and the kitten inturn would come and comfort her by lickign her , curling up with love in her cozy lap...
both of them felt bliss at that momet.. peace.
but the little girl went on her summer vacations with her parents.. and when she returned.. geofrrey wasnt so little anymore...
she wouldnt even come to her...
or show any signs of recognition... she wouldnt see it for days together.
geffrey had grown up.. or rather rown apart.. forgotten all the loving moments, and stories they had shared. the time they had grown together...
and the litlle girl kept thinking it would recognise her
one day the little girl went to geofrrey and finaly it seemed to recognise her.. she was so happy.. it was trying to get in her lap. but suddenly it started clawing her.. poor girl bled.. and was hurt.
she didnt know wot to do.
didnt know what had gotten into geoffrey.
all she knew that she felt sad.
she had lost a friend.
love someone and you get scratched.
and named geofrrey,
it soon became a dear friend.
one of the little girls, felt specially close it.
she had never liked cats before.. innfact despised them....
but there was something inthe eyes of this little one, which drew her to it...
and they made friends..
she would tell the kitten about her life, every otherday
and the kitten inturn would come and comfort her by lickign her , curling up with love in her cozy lap...
both of them felt bliss at that momet.. peace.
but the little girl went on her summer vacations with her parents.. and when she returned.. geofrrey wasnt so little anymore...
she wouldnt even come to her...
or show any signs of recognition... she wouldnt see it for days together.
geffrey had grown up.. or rather rown apart.. forgotten all the loving moments, and stories they had shared. the time they had grown together...
and the litlle girl kept thinking it would recognise her
one day the little girl went to geofrrey and finaly it seemed to recognise her.. she was so happy.. it was trying to get in her lap. but suddenly it started clawing her.. poor girl bled.. and was hurt.
she didnt know wot to do.
didnt know what had gotten into geoffrey.
all she knew that she felt sad.
she had lost a friend.
love someone and you get scratched.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
thank you
in te last few years, i have compensated for the tears of the earlier 18 years of my life.
and the the rest of mine too, hopefully.
a friend recently asked me what stopped it.
well heres the answer..
the pursuit of happiness.
when you reach a point when you want to be happy as much as you want oxygen thats when you dont even have to try.
automatically you train you mind to seek happiness, to turn every small moment of pleasue into lasting happiness.
happiness in is the small mercies of life.
the big ones come later.
it all started with the same friend telling me something onc that i will never forget...
it was about a year ago..
when i asked her why does happiness keep evading me, why do i not get what i want
and she said...
sana, we are like chess pieces being moved by someone above....
someimes we can see that if the person above just moves us one square we could kill the other persons pawn... and he isnt moving us.. and we keep wondering why, we curse him, we shout at him, but to no avail...
we can just see that one move and the glory and happiness it would give us
what we dont see
is what he does,
if he moves us that one sqare, there is another pawn who would kill us, and then chek mate..
so sometimes when you want things real bad and they are not happening,
keep patience... there is a reason...
and i swear i couldnt have put it better.
all i want to say to this person is thanks...
and i wish i could help her...
i will be there, just like she was...
and the the rest of mine too, hopefully.
a friend recently asked me what stopped it.
well heres the answer..
the pursuit of happiness.
when you reach a point when you want to be happy as much as you want oxygen thats when you dont even have to try.
automatically you train you mind to seek happiness, to turn every small moment of pleasue into lasting happiness.
happiness in is the small mercies of life.
the big ones come later.
it all started with the same friend telling me something onc that i will never forget...
it was about a year ago..
when i asked her why does happiness keep evading me, why do i not get what i want
and she said...
sana, we are like chess pieces being moved by someone above....
someimes we can see that if the person above just moves us one square we could kill the other persons pawn... and he isnt moving us.. and we keep wondering why, we curse him, we shout at him, but to no avail...
we can just see that one move and the glory and happiness it would give us
what we dont see
is what he does,
if he moves us that one sqare, there is another pawn who would kill us, and then chek mate..
so sometimes when you want things real bad and they are not happening,
keep patience... there is a reason...
and i swear i couldnt have put it better.
all i want to say to this person is thanks...
and i wish i could help her...
i will be there, just like she was...
fighting a lost battle
at what point trying to achieve something do you realise you have lost the battle...
do you keep going on hoping that some miracle will happen, when you know in your heart it probably wont, keep your self happy on that slight sparkle of hope.. or stop and turn back never daring to move ahead and see maybe there is another way, call yourself a loser and tell yourself to deal with it.
fighting a lost battle is not easy.
i dont knw if its foolhardiness, or optimism.
whatever it is i prefer hoping
i knw it finally slaps hard when that tiny sparkle of hope also goes.. but atleast you have that much more time for happiness .. the pursuit of it...
and who knows maybe there is another way waiting for you along the road.
just keep going.
do you keep going on hoping that some miracle will happen, when you know in your heart it probably wont, keep your self happy on that slight sparkle of hope.. or stop and turn back never daring to move ahead and see maybe there is another way, call yourself a loser and tell yourself to deal with it.
fighting a lost battle is not easy.
i dont knw if its foolhardiness, or optimism.
whatever it is i prefer hoping
i knw it finally slaps hard when that tiny sparkle of hope also goes.. but atleast you have that much more time for happiness .. the pursuit of it...
and who knows maybe there is another way waiting for you along the road.
just keep going.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
i must
"I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living."
Ann Morrow Lindbergh quotes
Ann Morrow Lindbergh quotes
Thursday, August 2, 2007
viscosity
A strange thought crossed my head.
Viscosity
perfect word to describe this state.
Imaginary bubbles of air and water… relief.
Back to charcoal black thick viscous.
Dense and swift.
A fall and a suspension.
An embrace is what it needs
A warm simmer… to set the charcoal flowing.
A chance is all that is requested.
And never granted.
Is it so hard.
Or is it not my destiny.
Is there a destiny?
Days of the week all jumbled up… boiling hot…
Time burns.
blisters from the past..
A 100 degrees.
Viscosity
perfect word to describe this state.
Imaginary bubbles of air and water… relief.
Back to charcoal black thick viscous.
Dense and swift.
A fall and a suspension.
An embrace is what it needs
A warm simmer… to set the charcoal flowing.
A chance is all that is requested.
And never granted.
Is it so hard.
Or is it not my destiny.
Is there a destiny?
Days of the week all jumbled up… boiling hot…
Time burns.
blisters from the past..
A 100 degrees.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
i have a cool friend and she has me too :)
have you ever noticed... how when you are with certain people( say A) you seem to be laughing more...
and when you are with certain other ones (say B) ... you seem to be whining more.. inturn depressing them.
does that mean you are closer to those in front of whom you laugh or those in front of whom you cant help but take out all your agonies and myseries.
not in my case.. still havent figured out why though.
maybe in front B you are not afraid to cry or be yourself and maybe you dont have to think before saying anything and put on a face in front of them and pretend everything is fine.. when its not.
maybe you get such happy vibes from A that you cant help mirror them.
maybe B doesnt realise they are doing the same thing to you.
or maybe im nowhere near to any thing remotely close to the real reason.
ahh the mysteries of human behaviour.
well today i was with one person who belong to the category A for me.
you know sometimes you feel you cant do something or you are scared you have forgotten how to..
well sculpture is one of those things for me..
and sometimes.. when you actually get to doing it...
it just comes back.. everything... the last three years of not sculpting dont seem too big after all in comparison to the 8 yrs of doing.
maybe you should actually go ahead and do it, instead of assuming for three years that you cant.
i made something entirely from memory today...
a hand, a hand that i knew the contours of, with my eyes closed.
and turns out... at least MY memory didnt fail me.
and im so happy that i went ahead and made it.
thank you anjali :)
and when you are with certain other ones (say B) ... you seem to be whining more.. inturn depressing them.
does that mean you are closer to those in front of whom you laugh or those in front of whom you cant help but take out all your agonies and myseries.
not in my case.. still havent figured out why though.
maybe in front B you are not afraid to cry or be yourself and maybe you dont have to think before saying anything and put on a face in front of them and pretend everything is fine.. when its not.
maybe you get such happy vibes from A that you cant help mirror them.
maybe B doesnt realise they are doing the same thing to you.
or maybe im nowhere near to any thing remotely close to the real reason.
ahh the mysteries of human behaviour.
well today i was with one person who belong to the category A for me.
you know sometimes you feel you cant do something or you are scared you have forgotten how to..
well sculpture is one of those things for me..
and sometimes.. when you actually get to doing it...
it just comes back.. everything... the last three years of not sculpting dont seem too big after all in comparison to the 8 yrs of doing.
maybe you should actually go ahead and do it, instead of assuming for three years that you cant.
i made something entirely from memory today...
a hand, a hand that i knew the contours of, with my eyes closed.
and turns out... at least MY memory didnt fail me.
and im so happy that i went ahead and made it.
thank you anjali :)
Monday, July 30, 2007
extraordinary emotions
sometimes...
on a normal day, a normal night.
u witness extraordinary emotions.
they come out of nowhere... no certain cause.
just appear and engulf you in an amazing sense of bliss.
in the course of a normal conversation, one of the many everyday ones
this feeling wafts out lifting your hand and gently placing it on someones head.
and there is nothing more that you want to do at that moment than pray to god that all of this persons wishes are fulfilled , that nothing ever makes them sad. just blessign them without any expectations, without any other feelign except the one that u could easily die for this person.
when our mothers place thier hands on our heads they go through a similar feeling... many friends do too.
but how many of us actually feel the warmth that that hand gives us.
if u listen closely enough ,one can actually hear the sounds of beautiful wishes travelling to you.
i had never thought that a human being can feel this way... so beautiful yet so scaringly overwhelming.
the feeling of loving someone... be it your parents, siblings, friends.. so selflessly, is very rare.
and yet when you feel it, you cannot help feel so good inside that it aches from the want to show other people what it means.
this is to hoping that every human being gets to feel this way atleast once in their lifetime.
because.... really.. there is nothing better to experience.
on a normal day, a normal night.
u witness extraordinary emotions.
they come out of nowhere... no certain cause.
just appear and engulf you in an amazing sense of bliss.
in the course of a normal conversation, one of the many everyday ones
this feeling wafts out lifting your hand and gently placing it on someones head.
and there is nothing more that you want to do at that moment than pray to god that all of this persons wishes are fulfilled , that nothing ever makes them sad. just blessign them without any expectations, without any other feelign except the one that u could easily die for this person.
when our mothers place thier hands on our heads they go through a similar feeling... many friends do too.
but how many of us actually feel the warmth that that hand gives us.
if u listen closely enough ,one can actually hear the sounds of beautiful wishes travelling to you.
i had never thought that a human being can feel this way... so beautiful yet so scaringly overwhelming.
the feeling of loving someone... be it your parents, siblings, friends.. so selflessly, is very rare.
and yet when you feel it, you cannot help feel so good inside that it aches from the want to show other people what it means.
this is to hoping that every human being gets to feel this way atleast once in their lifetime.
because.... really.. there is nothing better to experience.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
my happy
the pursuit of happiness
can be very painful.
pushing down bubbles that are ready to explode.. creates nothing but empty spaces... vaccum rounded to perfection..
with no sharp edges ...
pleasing and harmless from the outside;
nauseatingly empty and dizzy from within.
surface tension is not just a scientific word.
collecting within, it crams my insides..
forming a bundle.. of claustrophobic feelings dying to be given an identity,
to atleast be given seperate names,
a whilpool of thoughts reside in that bubble. reaching every moment the burstin point.
yet they exist in the bubble..
ready to be pushed in , the very next time the urge to get some air beckons it.
can be very painful.
pushing down bubbles that are ready to explode.. creates nothing but empty spaces... vaccum rounded to perfection..
with no sharp edges ...
pleasing and harmless from the outside;
nauseatingly empty and dizzy from within.
surface tension is not just a scientific word.
collecting within, it crams my insides..
forming a bundle.. of claustrophobic feelings dying to be given an identity,
to atleast be given seperate names,
a whilpool of thoughts reside in that bubble. reaching every moment the burstin point.
yet they exist in the bubble..
ready to be pushed in , the very next time the urge to get some air beckons it.
miles to go before i sleep
distance makes the heart grow fonder...
or so the saying goes.
distance.
physical distance can be overcome, technology helps us..
the magic of a touch is worth dying for.
but what happens when the distance is not physical.
or so the saying goes.
distance.
physical distance can be overcome, technology helps us..
the magic of a touch is worth dying for.
but what happens when the distance is not physical.
sigh..
koi mausam ka jhaunka tha
jo is deewar pe latki tasveer tirchi kar gaya hai,
gaye saawan mein ye deewarin yun seeli nahi thi..
na jaane kyun is dafa in mein seelan aa gayi hai,
dararein pad gayi hai....
aur seelan is tarah badti hai jaise,
khushq rukhsaron pe geele aanso chalte hain.
ye baarish gungunati thi
isi chat ki munderon par
ye ghar ki khidkiyon ke kaanch par ungli se likh jaati thi sandese
girti rahti hai baithi hui ab band roshandano ke peeche.
dupehrein aisi lagti hain,
bina muhron ke khaali khaane rakhein hain
na koi khelne waala hai baazi
aur na koi chaal chalta hai
na din hota hai ab na raat hoti hai sabhi kuch ruk gaya hai
wo kya mausam ka jhonka tha jo is deewar par latki hui tasweer tirchi kar gaya hai....
an excerpt from piya tora kaisa abhimaan by Gulzar
jo is deewar pe latki tasveer tirchi kar gaya hai,
gaye saawan mein ye deewarin yun seeli nahi thi..
na jaane kyun is dafa in mein seelan aa gayi hai,
dararein pad gayi hai....
aur seelan is tarah badti hai jaise,
khushq rukhsaron pe geele aanso chalte hain.
ye baarish gungunati thi
isi chat ki munderon par
ye ghar ki khidkiyon ke kaanch par ungli se likh jaati thi sandese
girti rahti hai baithi hui ab band roshandano ke peeche.
dupehrein aisi lagti hain,
bina muhron ke khaali khaane rakhein hain
na koi khelne waala hai baazi
aur na koi chaal chalta hai
na din hota hai ab na raat hoti hai sabhi kuch ruk gaya hai
wo kya mausam ka jhonka tha jo is deewar par latki hui tasweer tirchi kar gaya hai....
an excerpt from piya tora kaisa abhimaan by Gulzar
Monday, July 23, 2007
sand in my shoes.. dido
Two weeks away it feels like the world should've changed
But I'm home now
And things still look the same
I think I'll leave it to tomorrow to unpack
Try to forget for one more night That I'm back in my flat
on the road Where the cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can't watch sunset I don't have time I don't have time
I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you I shake it all, forget you Why, why would I want to
I know we said goodbye Anything else would've been confused but I wanna see you again Tomorrow's back to walking down to sanitation,
run a bath and clear up the mess i made before I left here
Try to remind myself that i was happy here
Before I knew that I could get on the plane and fly away
From the road where the cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can watch sunset
And take my time Take all our time
But I'm home now
And things still look the same
I think I'll leave it to tomorrow to unpack
Try to forget for one more night That I'm back in my flat
on the road Where the cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can't watch sunset I don't have time I don't have time
I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you I shake it all, forget you Why, why would I want to
I know we said goodbye Anything else would've been confused but I wanna see you again Tomorrow's back to walking down to sanitation,
run a bath and clear up the mess i made before I left here
Try to remind myself that i was happy here
Before I knew that I could get on the plane and fly away
From the road where the cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can watch sunset
And take my time Take all our time
Sunday, July 22, 2007
words
words are like sand,
they slip
unless u have brain strong and experienced enough to hold the sand and make it into a masterpiece,
it flies
never can you gather it again,
they travel in the atmosphere,
depositing as dust on someone;
in someones eye, discomfort it causes,
in shoes as memory, an unpleasant memory
careful where it may fall or fly
cause what all it causes you have no idea,
whos heart it scratches you dont know,
unless you want that,
keep the sand, firmly in your fist
or better, pour it in an hour glass,
invest it in time, for your friendship.
if you dont the time runs away pretty soon,
and again you wont know,
cause ull be too busy blowing sand in someones eye.
hurt lasts
blessings last.
they slip
unless u have brain strong and experienced enough to hold the sand and make it into a masterpiece,
it flies
never can you gather it again,
they travel in the atmosphere,
depositing as dust on someone;
in someones eye, discomfort it causes,
in shoes as memory, an unpleasant memory
careful where it may fall or fly
cause what all it causes you have no idea,
whos heart it scratches you dont know,
unless you want that,
keep the sand, firmly in your fist
or better, pour it in an hour glass,
invest it in time, for your friendship.
if you dont the time runs away pretty soon,
and again you wont know,
cause ull be too busy blowing sand in someones eye.
hurt lasts
blessings last.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
to my sweetheart poodle
time goes by even before you enter it.
people walk by even before you see them.
moments go by even before you experience them.
you think you have forever ... you dont.
a birthday as i have grown up to believe has lost its meaning thanks to a certain someone. with the "whats the big deal." philosophy, nothing is ever inportant enough;
no one is ever important enough; no one moment defines happiness. sometimes, i wonder what really is the big deal....
in making someone happy, remembering them, making them feel special for just one day ?
there maybe many more, but why not one more, excusively thiers. to wish the best for someone you care for more than you thought you could care .. ever.
to just wish that god blesses them with all he has and you have.... all you want is fr them to be happy...
how difficult is to recive such a blessing?
and how easy is it to reject it by saying whats the big deal?
hurt lasts
blessings last
its a decision ... to choose either.
this is to one friend who i have learned more from than anyone else perhaps.
who has been there when i didnt need her and also when i did. to have lived together is a different thing. to have grown up together... makes the best of friends. seen thorugh the best and worst.. and yet many to come. some one who will never be forgotten no matter if she lives in austrailia or scandanavia or pluto for all i care. god bless you prachi.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
today
man is a strange being, the desire of something more, something better in the future always persisits.
in ahmedabad, milan persists and in milan, ahmedabad persisits,
memories persist, people persist and the urge to be with them persists.
where does that leave today,
lived onto borrowing from yesterday and in the shadow of tomorrow?
today ....the most precious gift that god has given us.
yet it doesnt persist, perhaps in the future it will.... when it becomes yesterday.
in ahmedabad, milan persists and in milan, ahmedabad persisits,
memories persist, people persist and the urge to be with them persists.
where does that leave today,
lived onto borrowing from yesterday and in the shadow of tomorrow?
today ....the most precious gift that god has given us.
yet it doesnt persist, perhaps in the future it will.... when it becomes yesterday.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
the noise of silence
trucks zooming be he highway at all times, people screaming, dogs barking, horns....
so annoying it always was....
never realised if it would all go like i actually wished it to.. how much i would miss it.
its defeaning here the noise is too much... the noise of silence....
i put my hands up on my ears to stop it ... and then realise stop what.... silence?
music needs to play urmi says
so annoying it always was....
never realised if it would all go like i actually wished it to.. how much i would miss it.
its defeaning here the noise is too much... the noise of silence....
i put my hands up on my ears to stop it ... and then realise stop what.... silence?
music needs to play urmi says
lessons in milan
lesson one
13 euros is not equal to 13 rs
lesson two
foriegners are not mnsters or aliens
lesson four
its not so different after after all
13 euros is not equal to 13 rs
lesson two
foriegners are not mnsters or aliens
lesson four
its not so different after after all
Sunday, July 8, 2007
clouds under my wings
everything set... ready to fly .... tonight.
happy and excited, a little anxious .... a change, something new.... i will perhaps never be the same ...
saying goodbye kills me... hoping its not forever i say it happily nonetheless...
both the calming entities of my life and one more wish me luck.
coming back would have never been so precious so awaited...
as awaited as going....
so much to do ... and only 24hrs in a day ... not one more.... but thank, god not one less.
10 hours in the sky... away from gravity.. from pettiness and from trvialities of daily life travelling across continents... massive landmasses moving under my wings in a span of minutes.
cant help get romantic. the beauty of it all... breathtaking; giving a new lease of positivity to the dried up emotions.
and yet somethings seems amiss.
or someone rather?
happy and excited, a little anxious .... a change, something new.... i will perhaps never be the same ...
saying goodbye kills me... hoping its not forever i say it happily nonetheless...
both the calming entities of my life and one more wish me luck.
coming back would have never been so precious so awaited...
as awaited as going....
so much to do ... and only 24hrs in a day ... not one more.... but thank, god not one less.
10 hours in the sky... away from gravity.. from pettiness and from trvialities of daily life travelling across continents... massive landmasses moving under my wings in a span of minutes.
cant help get romantic. the beauty of it all... breathtaking; giving a new lease of positivity to the dried up emotions.
and yet somethings seems amiss.
or someone rather?
Monday, July 2, 2007
Sunday, July 1, 2007
milan here i come !
found this somewhere... the painter i guess was trying to capture the essence of milan....
do i hear some excitement tippy tappying in on 3 inch of heels?? :D
some songs linger...
some songs linger.reminding me of things i thought i forgot.of the times i would play these. of the events that happened in those days. whizzing by me all the memories i thought i had let go.... i thought.because of the habit of playing each song that i like for days together ,so that it gets internalised. each song means something to me.
just some....
i drink good coffee every morning
comes from a place thats far away
when im done i feel like talking
without u here , there is less to say.- a trying thought. peace descends.
jag ja ri gudiya
misri ki pudiya
meethe lage do naina
naino me tere hum hi base the hum hi base hai haina?- everynight sleeping myself to dreams
ye saazish hai boondo ki koi khwahish hai chup chup si dekho naa...- travelling from ahmedabad to kerala, the most memorable journey of my life.....
yesterday...
a dear friend introduced me to this song... i lived on it for months..... and months...
just some....
i drink good coffee every morning
comes from a place thats far away
when im done i feel like talking
without u here , there is less to say.- a trying thought. peace descends.
jag ja ri gudiya
misri ki pudiya
meethe lage do naina
naino me tere hum hi base the hum hi base hai haina?- everynight sleeping myself to dreams
ye saazish hai boondo ki koi khwahish hai chup chup si dekho naa...- travelling from ahmedabad to kerala, the most memorable journey of my life.....
yesterday...
a dear friend introduced me to this song... i lived on it for months..... and months...
Saturday, June 30, 2007
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