can you, want something desperately,
and not know if you want it at all?
there is no helplessness comparable.
my sweet beautiful life: i never thought
even you would ever put me there.
there must be a way out of here.
there must be a way i am not seeing.
i am scared of my own intensity.
i am scared of the monsters i could create.
i scared, now, of my own shadow.
for the first time, i am now scared
i who jumped in always heedless.
for the first time realise, i never cared before
fear springs from love and care
there is nothing more fearsome than to care
i have never profited from relationships
just a box of rain
it's not that it does not work, just that it's hard. damn hard. but then, like i said earier, it's like a bad habit that needs to be unlearnt. all you need is patience. detached patience. you will keep failing, but persist and the rate of failures will go down. catch is, patience was never one of my virtues. and persistence even less so.
so i try to zone out the noise and focus on my box of rain. my mind is a room, and it's stored in the corner, by the wall, under the mirror (significant) and in the second drawer of the chest. hidden in the best disguise: obvious-ness.
in my mind, i walk to it, pull open the drawer, and pull out the 'box'. not really a box, but we are being metaphorical. i pull out the contents. let's say, for the sake of maintaining the masks and fronts, i pull out a rainy evening. the sky looks silver grey. the shingles are wet and glossy. the tree sway as if to shake off the little drops of water. and a lone bird sings. the sun looks ... there you see, it brings me right back to the f sun! there must be some way outta here? however, its much easier now having made up my mind. the point is, you have to fall out of love with the old ways, and open your mind to the new. and the way will come and find you. there's nothing admirable about cowardice. but then, who am i to cast the first stone. what have i ever been if not craven?
so i try to zone out the noise and focus on my box of rain. my mind is a room, and it's stored in the corner, by the wall, under the mirror (significant) and in the second drawer of the chest. hidden in the best disguise: obvious-ness.
in my mind, i walk to it, pull open the drawer, and pull out the 'box'. not really a box, but we are being metaphorical. i pull out the contents. let's say, for the sake of maintaining the masks and fronts, i pull out a rainy evening. the sky looks silver grey. the shingles are wet and glossy. the tree sway as if to shake off the little drops of water. and a lone bird sings. the sun looks ... there you see, it brings me right back to the f sun! there must be some way outta here? however, its much easier now having made up my mind. the point is, you have to fall out of love with the old ways, and open your mind to the new. and the way will come and find you. there's nothing admirable about cowardice. but then, who am i to cast the first stone. what have i ever been if not craven?
days
each day spills over unnoticed,
like the last few coins in a beggers purse.
the moon, the mountains, the wind, the sun,
nothing stirs the depths of oblivion.
there's a fine line between pain and numbness.
like the thin edge between acceptance and despair.
strange is lust for life. so beaten,
the hunger still doesnt abate.
a hundred winters have come and gone,
a hundred springs followed.
but still, the cold numbs fingertips.
knowing that it will pass, makes it no easier.
the river, that steals from a hundred banks,
still weeps when robbed by the ocean.
hours slip by unnoticed. dreams, hopes, passions,
spill unheeded like blood now lifeless.
outside, the wind howls.
strange choreography.
the moon, narrow and long, is a bittersweet smile.
the stars are dying: slowly, unnoticed.
another day is folded and put away.
carefully, slowly, lingeringly, let go.
bargains are struck and stuck to.
however dear the price.
faded daisies, crumbling dry,
carefully stored in notebooks. and big brown envelopes.
like the last few coins in a beggers purse.
the moon, the mountains, the wind, the sun,
nothing stirs the depths of oblivion.
there's a fine line between pain and numbness.
like the thin edge between acceptance and despair.
strange is lust for life. so beaten,
the hunger still doesnt abate.
a hundred winters have come and gone,
a hundred springs followed.
but still, the cold numbs fingertips.
knowing that it will pass, makes it no easier.
the river, that steals from a hundred banks,
still weeps when robbed by the ocean.
hours slip by unnoticed. dreams, hopes, passions,
spill unheeded like blood now lifeless.
outside, the wind howls.
strange choreography.
the moon, narrow and long, is a bittersweet smile.
the stars are dying: slowly, unnoticed.
another day is folded and put away.
carefully, slowly, lingeringly, let go.
bargains are struck and stuck to.
however dear the price.
faded daisies, crumbling dry,
carefully stored in notebooks. and big brown envelopes.
so does it feel any better? not an inch, unfortunately! i must be some sorry kind of scorp! cant stay mad, for all my efforts ... concentrating like arjun on the target ... it still forget 5 times out of 6. Thats not all, when I do remember, I am more hurt in anticipated sympathy than the other person, who probably, is oblivious through this whole drama ... so the binary, is the only option then. Just dissapear. Casually friendly is MUCH harder. Its all to fucking loaded.
All this is born of the deceit. I know I owe it to be more honest. But I am such a coward ... I dare not!
All this is born of the deceit. I know I owe it to be more honest. But I am such a coward ... I dare not!
Dolly (Part 3)
Disclaimer: With the exception of work labelled non-fiction, the characters featured in this site are completely fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. No similarity to any person either living or dead is intended or should be inferred.
I have something that is eating me up. I want to say it to someone, but I have noone to say it to. Or to put it better, I have noone I would care to say it to. For miscellaneus (I cant spell that) reasons. Maybe its a good thing, because I would'nt know the first thing about how to phrase it.
Is'nt it the kind of irony that could only happen to me, that today, when I should be so happy, I am so deeply sad. Well, not sad, but ... I dont know how to say even that.
We make our choices in life. We leave the things we have, and come seeking that which we don't. We leave our homes to look for adventure. We come and live in places which can never be home. And we know, we know all the time, that this is what we have chosen, and that noone will ever understand why, or that you will be lonely as a dog: warm, friendly befriended, fed, loved ... but never one of us. And we know what we are leaving behind, though sometimes we kid ourselves about it, for a while.
And you know that those who gave their life blood to make you who you were, who brought you up, and saved you, who found a stray orphan and loved it like their own, against all those million odds, and waited patiently for that one day when it will finish growing up, and be a 'full grown friend', you know that just at that night before harvest, you are stealing the crop they have nurtured for so long,
And you know they sit on the old rocking chair, in the cold and lonely house, where noone comes to visit, looking at the old collapsible gate, and waiting for you to come home ... know by heart the way you put one arm on the 'rock' and haul yourself up, shouting hello to uncle-ji (who they also know you secretly love) and ring the bell in 'your tune' while rattling the gate in 'your beat', which they probably hear in their dreams ... and you know that they will die in the that rocking chair by the time you are done wandering (and racing and rowing and winning cool stamps that you think are entry tickets to self-approval ... racing your shadow to try and satiate your insatiable, lustful, greedy 'self') ... you know they will be dead.
And the fruits of their labour, will be free to go back to the maker ... the cuckoo will fly back to its nest.
But still we do it. And we know, somewhere, while making our choices, the payments we are agreeing to, in regular installments, for all of time to come. And when the check arrives in the mail, we are expecting it, we have made our peace, had our joy. Won our races. Buried our dead.
But yet sometimes, it seems hard. And you just feel like you can't take it, like you've been paying all your life, for something or the other, that your tired of always paying for everything you wanted. why cant life be free.
But then it passes. Just like a toothache. It passes. You laugh at yourself. Blow your nose. make a coffee. Light up. And go stand by the window. And fondly think of how silly your 'little-child-self'gets once in a while, and smile. (And in a secret part of your heart hope it has truly passed ... and watch yourself a little skeptically, a little extra careful for a while ... just to be sure).
And so it is with love. Or atleast, with mine. I made my choices. I always knew it was out of reach. I always knew this would get very deep. From the first second I knew. It took me a while to reaise it, and then some more to come to terms with, and believe it, but from the first minute I knew.
And I always knew I could never, ever, ever reach out and touch the stars, or even ask the stars to come down. because thats NOT the WAY I want it. And i wouldnt be satisfied. Not with a gift. Or charity. Or compromise. Or agreement. I've been there too. I know ...
My logical side (is that my thalamus {supposed seat of consciousness}?) has made its peace with that. Its like loving a snowflake. You love it. You want it. But you know its so delicate, if you reach out and touch it, it will melt. You just cant have it. You can just watch it dancing from a distance: dancing, twirling, spinning, falling ...
But there are times when my younger side takes over (old brain?). there are times when I cant bear it, just for that moment, just to reach out and touch my little snowflake.
And to know that I wont. That I cant. That I just wouldnt allow myself, couldnt, wouldnt, shouldnt ... and all of that 'jiving around'.
And that I will just watch it float past my face. Free. Like it was meant to be. And I will let it go. I always knew that. But sometimes, it just seems awfully hard. And I wonder how I will do that.
But still, I'm glad. All my (other) dreams have come true. My life is blessed. I have friends, after a fashion. And now I even have somewhere to go (for what thats worth).
And knowing my little snowflake ... it would have turned out to be a bloody nightmare, had that one come true. Like they say, be careful what you wish for. And sometimes not getting what you wanted, is the best thing that could happen to you.
What does come with age is a (just) little bit more patience. And acceptance. a few years ago I would have gone to town on this. Now I sit and wait for it to pass - knowing for sure that it will. Before, I would have gone out of my way to keep out of people's way, now I know there will be time enough for that, when the time comes, and it will be soon enough. There was a time when I would have been angry or dissapointed in myself for being either so out of control, or so silly, or not brave enough to just do what it takes - get off the fence, this way or the other - but with time I have learnt to accept myself and loosen my ambitions about who I wanted to be.
So I just brace myself and prepare to try my best to let you go without a scene, without giving away anymore than I must. I dont care if I can't have you, but face ... I must save face. And I build up my scrap book of memories, for later, for the rest of the way. My box of rain. I collect every scrap of time and affection that falls of your careless ways. A pebble that you threw at me, a half sucked candy that you stuck in my hair, a strand of your hair ... but how do you collect the little formless things? A tone of voice, a carefree song, a look, a fleeting touch ... guess that too must be let go, huh?
PS - Please wont you NOT leave a silly comment? I have turned wiser, calmer, much much PC-er and polite-r, with my three decades old wisdom ... but inside, silly still pisses the fuck out of me. Just kidding. ;)
I know this does'nt weave in, in any way shape or form with the other two parts of 'dolly' (as they didnt with each other) but in my head they all fit in with the master-plot and one day they will be woven together, trust me ;)
Saw Away from her, I think it was the most impressive movie I have seen in a while ... or its the movie that moved me most (ever since cinema paradiso).
I have something that is eating me up. I want to say it to someone, but I have noone to say it to. Or to put it better, I have noone I would care to say it to. For miscellaneus (I cant spell that) reasons. Maybe its a good thing, because I would'nt know the first thing about how to phrase it.
Is'nt it the kind of irony that could only happen to me, that today, when I should be so happy, I am so deeply sad. Well, not sad, but ... I dont know how to say even that.
We make our choices in life. We leave the things we have, and come seeking that which we don't. We leave our homes to look for adventure. We come and live in places which can never be home. And we know, we know all the time, that this is what we have chosen, and that noone will ever understand why, or that you will be lonely as a dog: warm, friendly befriended, fed, loved ... but never one of us. And we know what we are leaving behind, though sometimes we kid ourselves about it, for a while.
And you know that those who gave their life blood to make you who you were, who brought you up, and saved you, who found a stray orphan and loved it like their own, against all those million odds, and waited patiently for that one day when it will finish growing up, and be a 'full grown friend', you know that just at that night before harvest, you are stealing the crop they have nurtured for so long,
And you know they sit on the old rocking chair, in the cold and lonely house, where noone comes to visit, looking at the old collapsible gate, and waiting for you to come home ... know by heart the way you put one arm on the 'rock' and haul yourself up, shouting hello to uncle-ji (who they also know you secretly love) and ring the bell in 'your tune' while rattling the gate in 'your beat', which they probably hear in their dreams ... and you know that they will die in the that rocking chair by the time you are done wandering (and racing and rowing and winning cool stamps that you think are entry tickets to self-approval ... racing your shadow to try and satiate your insatiable, lustful, greedy 'self') ... you know they will be dead.
And the fruits of their labour, will be free to go back to the maker ... the cuckoo will fly back to its nest.
But still we do it. And we know, somewhere, while making our choices, the payments we are agreeing to, in regular installments, for all of time to come. And when the check arrives in the mail, we are expecting it, we have made our peace, had our joy. Won our races. Buried our dead.
But yet sometimes, it seems hard. And you just feel like you can't take it, like you've been paying all your life, for something or the other, that your tired of always paying for everything you wanted. why cant life be free.
But then it passes. Just like a toothache. It passes. You laugh at yourself. Blow your nose. make a coffee. Light up. And go stand by the window. And fondly think of how silly your 'little-child-self'gets once in a while, and smile. (And in a secret part of your heart hope it has truly passed ... and watch yourself a little skeptically, a little extra careful for a while ... just to be sure).
And so it is with love. Or atleast, with mine. I made my choices. I always knew it was out of reach. I always knew this would get very deep. From the first second I knew. It took me a while to reaise it, and then some more to come to terms with, and believe it, but from the first minute I knew.
And I always knew I could never, ever, ever reach out and touch the stars, or even ask the stars to come down. because thats NOT the WAY I want it. And i wouldnt be satisfied. Not with a gift. Or charity. Or compromise. Or agreement. I've been there too. I know ...
My logical side (is that my thalamus {supposed seat of consciousness}?) has made its peace with that. Its like loving a snowflake. You love it. You want it. But you know its so delicate, if you reach out and touch it, it will melt. You just cant have it. You can just watch it dancing from a distance: dancing, twirling, spinning, falling ...
But there are times when my younger side takes over (old brain?). there are times when I cant bear it, just for that moment, just to reach out and touch my little snowflake.
And to know that I wont. That I cant. That I just wouldnt allow myself, couldnt, wouldnt, shouldnt ... and all of that 'jiving around'.
And that I will just watch it float past my face. Free. Like it was meant to be. And I will let it go. I always knew that. But sometimes, it just seems awfully hard. And I wonder how I will do that.
But still, I'm glad. All my (other) dreams have come true. My life is blessed. I have friends, after a fashion. And now I even have somewhere to go (for what thats worth).
And knowing my little snowflake ... it would have turned out to be a bloody nightmare, had that one come true. Like they say, be careful what you wish for. And sometimes not getting what you wanted, is the best thing that could happen to you.
What does come with age is a (just) little bit more patience. And acceptance. a few years ago I would have gone to town on this. Now I sit and wait for it to pass - knowing for sure that it will. Before, I would have gone out of my way to keep out of people's way, now I know there will be time enough for that, when the time comes, and it will be soon enough. There was a time when I would have been angry or dissapointed in myself for being either so out of control, or so silly, or not brave enough to just do what it takes - get off the fence, this way or the other - but with time I have learnt to accept myself and loosen my ambitions about who I wanted to be.
So I just brace myself and prepare to try my best to let you go without a scene, without giving away anymore than I must. I dont care if I can't have you, but face ... I must save face. And I build up my scrap book of memories, for later, for the rest of the way. My box of rain. I collect every scrap of time and affection that falls of your careless ways. A pebble that you threw at me, a half sucked candy that you stuck in my hair, a strand of your hair ... but how do you collect the little formless things? A tone of voice, a carefree song, a look, a fleeting touch ... guess that too must be let go, huh?
PS - Please wont you NOT leave a silly comment? I have turned wiser, calmer, much much PC-er and polite-r, with my three decades old wisdom ... but inside, silly still pisses the fuck out of me. Just kidding. ;)
I know this does'nt weave in, in any way shape or form with the other two parts of 'dolly' (as they didnt with each other) but in my head they all fit in with the master-plot and one day they will be woven together, trust me ;)
Saw Away from her, I think it was the most impressive movie I have seen in a while ... or its the movie that moved me most (ever since cinema paradiso).
madcap comes home
the sun is shining ... wont let it go down again ... all is right ... thank you three wise men, for the gifts you brought ...
everything is right again ... for a while ... i'm the king of the world!!! the last time i was this happy was when i was home and got my first letter from madcap. now i'm so happy again. dont go away.
but he stands at the other end of this river, and i have two more rungs of this bridge to cross, before i get to the other, longer, bigger bridge ... will i make it? dont slip out of my hands again madcap. i want you so so so much ...
feel so high. feel like walking upto everyone on the street and telling them :)
oh god - i hope this works. this one remaing bridge between us. else to have gotton so close to you & lost you ... it would be so sad ...
not that i dont love t, or he hasnt been good to me, but just that i think i have grown out of him. i need this ... atleast for now ... only madcap will do ...
who knows what tomorrow will bring?
everything is right again ... for a while ... i'm the king of the world!!! the last time i was this happy was when i was home and got my first letter from madcap. now i'm so happy again. dont go away.
but he stands at the other end of this river, and i have two more rungs of this bridge to cross, before i get to the other, longer, bigger bridge ... will i make it? dont slip out of my hands again madcap. i want you so so so much ...
feel so high. feel like walking upto everyone on the street and telling them :)
oh god - i hope this works. this one remaing bridge between us. else to have gotton so close to you & lost you ... it would be so sad ...
not that i dont love t, or he hasnt been good to me, but just that i think i have grown out of him. i need this ... atleast for now ... only madcap will do ...
who knows what tomorrow will bring?
what are these things called love?
excuse me! could you just move over please? you're sitting on my heart. and then she burst into a smothered fit of giggling. thats the first thing you noticed about her. she was almost always laughing. even when she was alone, sometimes random funny thoughts like that flit through her head and she wanted to laugh. she always had trouble explaining what was so funny. after a while, he gave up asking.
the first thing most people noticed about him was his bouyancy. the first thing she noticed about him was him! like a textbook case of fascination, from the very first instant she met him, she had been mesmerised by him. and now, all these years later, she still had not figured out what to do about it.
Today they were sitting together in the crowded bus, more from lack of choice than any other reason; when suddenly, she giggled
Her giggle brought him back from a reverie. He was thinking about how they had met for the first time near a trail where he was hiking. He had seen a sparkle in her deep blue eyes which he noticed more than her giggle. They crossed paths not before he strained his neck to catch a fleeting glimpse of her.
But he sighed! It has been so many years and probably she wouldn't even be remembering that moment which changed his life. She always smiled and radiated a glow which he would have basked in. But he was not sure then. He asked himself, was he sure now after so many years?
I am not going to complete this now, and probably not ever ... if you want to have a go at writing the next paragraphs, lines or even words ... leave it in the comments. If you want to change something in the existing text to fit your contribution, let me know too. lets spin some yarn ;0)
Contributing spinners so far:PreRicercar, Amit, Pilgrim
the first thing most people noticed about him was his bouyancy. the first thing she noticed about him was him! like a textbook case of fascination, from the very first instant she met him, she had been mesmerised by him. and now, all these years later, she still had not figured out what to do about it.
Today they were sitting together in the crowded bus, more from lack of choice than any other reason; when suddenly, she giggled
Her giggle brought him back from a reverie. He was thinking about how they had met for the first time near a trail where he was hiking. He had seen a sparkle in her deep blue eyes which he noticed more than her giggle. They crossed paths not before he strained his neck to catch a fleeting glimpse of her.
But he sighed! It has been so many years and probably she wouldn't even be remembering that moment which changed his life. She always smiled and radiated a glow which he would have basked in. But he was not sure then. He asked himself, was he sure now after so many years?
I am not going to complete this now, and probably not ever ... if you want to have a go at writing the next paragraphs, lines or even words ... leave it in the comments. If you want to change something in the existing text to fit your contribution, let me know too. lets spin some yarn ;0)
Contributing spinners so far:
Hall Of Fame
My recent favourite posts by other/my favourite bloggers:
This is a WIP. The ones that say everything will likely be expanded, except there's not much point doing that for the first four, is there!
English August
Everything
Procheta
Everything
By Aimless Wanderer:
Everything
Phantasmagoria
Everything
Brazen Head:
Letters
Bullet bites dust discovering Coco
Arthur Quiller Couch:
The girl on The Half Shell
Sunday
Amputee
Rimi:
Shelf Life
Cocaine Jesus
Rumour of Trees
Bert Moth
Memorandum of Naught
Austere
Green Silk
Verlaine
Shine On you Crazy Diamond
The Hidden Hand (and not bcz of the links!)
Awareness
surrendering to merciful blues
Sanity Starved
To Dearest One
Goldfluke
Seven
Fifteen
Gosmoking
We walked
The Girl in the Hat
The Witch of Agnesi
Findng Franny
Everything
Fool On the Hill
Everything
The Pilgrim
Men are from Mars
Eroteme
Serendipity 2
People Collector (Had Been Meaning to do a Post on thsi topic myself for a while now)
tender Days
A character introduces the writer
Beuty In Dual Tone
Chardonnay Files:
banyan tree
Perspective, Inc:
The grander Moment
Ideasmithy:
Love, Actually
Sapna:
beyond words and descriptions
Dream Catcher
Intoxication
This is a WIP. The ones that say everything will likely be expanded, except there's not much point doing that for the first four, is there!
English August
Everything
Procheta
Everything
By Aimless Wanderer:
Everything
Phantasmagoria
Everything
Brazen Head:
Letters
Bullet bites dust discovering Coco
Arthur Quiller Couch:
The girl on The Half Shell
Sunday
Amputee
Rimi:
Shelf Life
Cocaine Jesus
Rumour of Trees
Bert Moth
Memorandum of Naught
Austere
Green Silk
Verlaine
Shine On you Crazy Diamond
The Hidden Hand (and not bcz of the links!)
Awareness
surrendering to merciful blues
Sanity Starved
To Dearest One
Goldfluke
Seven
Fifteen
Gosmoking
We walked
The Girl in the Hat
The Witch of Agnesi
Findng Franny
Everything
Fool On the Hill
Everything
The Pilgrim
Men are from Mars
Eroteme
Serendipity 2
People Collector (Had Been Meaning to do a Post on thsi topic myself for a while now)
tender Days
A character introduces the writer
Beuty In Dual Tone
Chardonnay Files:
banyan tree
Perspective, Inc:
The grander Moment
Ideasmithy:
Love, Actually
Sapna:
beyond words and descriptions
Dream Catcher
Intoxication
Silly
madcap's best girl
"I feel certain that I am going mad again: I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness... I can't fight it any longer, I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work"
Her work was criticised for epitomizing the narrow world of the upper-middle class English intelligentsia, peopled with delicate, but ultimately trivial, self-centred, and overly introspective individuals. Some critics judged it to be lacking in universality and depth, without the power to communicate anything of emotional or ethical relevance to the disillusioned common reader, weary of the 1920s aesthetes who seemed to belong to an era definitely closed and buried.
River Ouse in 1941, near the village of Rodmell
Her work was criticised for epitomizing the narrow world of the upper-middle class English intelligentsia, peopled with delicate, but ultimately trivial, self-centred, and overly introspective individuals. Some critics judged it to be lacking in universality and depth, without the power to communicate anything of emotional or ethical relevance to the disillusioned common reader, weary of the 1920s aesthetes who seemed to belong to an era definitely closed and buried.
River Ouse in 1941, near the village of Rodmell
the moon, and the song of the wind
isnt it silly
how many times a day
some little silly thing comes to mind
which seems so important to share with someone
right then and there ...
yes its funny
guess it will take some time
but there are so many people to talk to
friends, are a dime a dozen
atleast that much i have learnt
its just a 7 letter word
like dragons, and faeries and love
a silly idea for sill credulous fools
atleast that much i have learnt
you should'nt take life so seriously ...
nor people
and most of all, not friends ...
take lite ;)
i'll get by
i'm doing good
i'm glad
maybe even i can cultivate some pride ;)
who would have thought?
isnt it funny how different we are with different people?
why are we like that?
so hard to understand?
so uncontrolled ...
now you ...
ur easy.
yeah, right!
you're easy to understand
as long as i keep in mind
that there isnt anything to understand
but ...
anyway, things cant become important without my permission
enough now. its time.
the bird is singing in the tree.
the leaves rustle secretly.
the moon is blue and silver
far away, it tumbles through
the black lace branches on a tree
down on empty tracts of land
somewhere, water makes little noises
playfully
and when the wind sings
it makes a mock sad sound
only ends up sounding funny
and the moon bends down
and they laugh at it together
the trees wave
and watch on
their endless silent games
of war and love
silently
mock seriously
they pretend, so hard
so seriously. till the instant
when their high in the sky
for an instant
their eyes meet
everything explodes
the sky, the stars, the wind and the moon
trumpets, cymbals, bells ring
sparks, fires and lights glow
walls and curtains and defences
and their silly little games
everything is blown away
but only for an instant
and silently
high in the skies,
where noone can see
in that instant
they are alone,
hidden, even for themselves
i never lived an instant like that
ever before
enough
for that, take eternity
solemnly
somewhere far away
there is another me and another you
somewhere, far away
maybe
its free
there's a kind of peace in solitude
somethings hurt
and they are hard
but still its got to be done
i'd have never thought of the hot water
these little details make all the difference
not that it did
but still
you live
you learn
little pearls to be saved
for the last straw of boredom
why do i feel like its not far away
yes, its almost time now
funny, she reminds me of you
maybe because she is so pretty?
or maybe because of the way she cried
funny how the girl just made it so clear
which side she was on
clever girl
you cant sit on the fence
thirty years is a long time
thats how you share the names she bought
it would be easier if you had a moral code
to judge with, to call names with. to hand out little envelopes of scorn with.
i couldnt. its ok. i dont mind.
they're just little names.
soon, they dont even mean much.
funny. he would have never said i'll do their homework ...
thank god for that ;)
how many times a day
some little silly thing comes to mind
which seems so important to share with someone
right then and there ...
yes its funny
guess it will take some time
but there are so many people to talk to
friends, are a dime a dozen
atleast that much i have learnt
its just a 7 letter word
like dragons, and faeries and love
a silly idea for sill credulous fools
atleast that much i have learnt
you should'nt take life so seriously ...
nor people
and most of all, not friends ...
take lite ;)
i'll get by
i'm doing good
i'm glad
maybe even i can cultivate some pride ;)
who would have thought?
isnt it funny how different we are with different people?
why are we like that?
so hard to understand?
so uncontrolled ...
now you ...
ur easy.
yeah, right!
you're easy to understand
as long as i keep in mind
that there isnt anything to understand
but ...
anyway, things cant become important without my permission
enough now. its time.
the bird is singing in the tree.
the leaves rustle secretly.
the moon is blue and silver
far away, it tumbles through
the black lace branches on a tree
down on empty tracts of land
somewhere, water makes little noises
playfully
and when the wind sings
it makes a mock sad sound
only ends up sounding funny
and the moon bends down
and they laugh at it together
the trees wave
and watch on
their endless silent games
of war and love
silently
mock seriously
they pretend, so hard
so seriously. till the instant
when their high in the sky
for an instant
their eyes meet
everything explodes
the sky, the stars, the wind and the moon
trumpets, cymbals, bells ring
sparks, fires and lights glow
walls and curtains and defences
and their silly little games
everything is blown away
but only for an instant
and silently
high in the skies,
where noone can see
in that instant
they are alone,
hidden, even for themselves
i never lived an instant like that
ever before
enough
for that, take eternity
solemnly
somewhere far away
there is another me and another you
somewhere, far away
maybe
its free
there's a kind of peace in solitude
somethings hurt
and they are hard
but still its got to be done
i'd have never thought of the hot water
these little details make all the difference
not that it did
but still
you live
you learn
little pearls to be saved
for the last straw of boredom
why do i feel like its not far away
yes, its almost time now
funny, she reminds me of you
maybe because she is so pretty?
or maybe because of the way she cried
funny how the girl just made it so clear
which side she was on
clever girl
you cant sit on the fence
thirty years is a long time
thats how you share the names she bought
it would be easier if you had a moral code
to judge with, to call names with. to hand out little envelopes of scorn with.
i couldnt. its ok. i dont mind.
they're just little names.
soon, they dont even mean much.
funny. he would have never said i'll do their homework ...
thank god for that ;)
i will be allright, if i only dont think
i will be allright, if i only dont run into no one
just for a second now, till i regain the rock
this is the last thorn to pull out, hold your breath
i still havent found, the mustard to bargain with
nor anything else to replace it with
damn! why does withdrawal make you hyper sensitive
i must trash that poster on the wall
if i say i'm sorry, if i say i miss you, much
would you come back? but i wont. so there. if u'd known,
u wouldnt have gone. if you went
you might as well stay gone
and see if i care.
i'll make do with what i have.
but i do ...
and i am ...
i'm sorry i forgot everything u learnt me
i'm sorry i ran away for the red shoes
i'm hungry. and i'm tired and it's cold out on the stones
and the monsters in your stories stayed behind ...
just in case, you wanted to come back,
i just hope we dont miss eachother on the road
so, finally after all that drama i let you go
and you'll never know, how close you came, to i know not what
its been ages since it rained like that
i had longed to hear the sound of the rain
and when the sun came out again, it was a melting flourescent
and jonathan and fletcher, came to say hello and remind me ...
everything is gonna be allright
just hold on and let go, when the time is right
thanks for reminding me, can always go home
thanks for reminding me, there's always a place to go
so if your looking for a place to stop now walker,
dont come knocking at my door
i will be allright, if i only dont run into no one
just for a second now, till i regain the rock
this is the last thorn to pull out, hold your breath
i still havent found, the mustard to bargain with
nor anything else to replace it with
damn! why does withdrawal make you hyper sensitive
i must trash that poster on the wall
if i say i'm sorry, if i say i miss you, much
would you come back? but i wont. so there. if u'd known,
u wouldnt have gone. if you went
you might as well stay gone
and see if i care.
i'll make do with what i have.
but i do ...
and i am ...
i'm sorry i forgot everything u learnt me
i'm sorry i ran away for the red shoes
i'm hungry. and i'm tired and it's cold out on the stones
and the monsters in your stories stayed behind ...
just in case, you wanted to come back,
i just hope we dont miss eachother on the road
so, finally after all that drama i let you go
and you'll never know, how close you came, to i know not what
its been ages since it rained like that
i had longed to hear the sound of the rain
and when the sun came out again, it was a melting flourescent
and jonathan and fletcher, came to say hello and remind me ...
everything is gonna be allright
just hold on and let go, when the time is right
thanks for reminding me, can always go home
thanks for reminding me, there's always a place to go
so if your looking for a place to stop now walker,
dont come knocking at my door
nothing like music to drown your thoughts
music: dekho manasi
By fossils - one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite bands ... and while looking for it I found another song by them that i'd never heard before ...
 |
| DYAKHO MANASI.mp3 |
| Hosted by eSnips |
By fossils - one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite bands ... and while looking for it I found another song by them that i'd never heard before ...
me
the trees in the park are blushing
the grounds are swept with petals of snow
a long winter is passing by
with a whisper of cracking ice
the river, at first shy
bereft of the burden it had half grown used to,
stripped naked, skin returned,
hesitates for a minute, then softly hums
in the fields, in purple and yellow
little flowers laze and soak the sun
a long winter is passing
a new day is coming
i changed my mind
excuse my temporary loss of reason
i am still the same
and still want full loaves
and voluntary contributions, at that
else i still know how to leave it
yes, that's probably all i can do well
though recently the treads on my trainers are wearing thin
even the one, can be forgotten
there are so many other places in the world
though, i'd always miss your special grey streets
and the burst of laughter unexpectedly
your contrasts. your contradictions. your madness
that reminded me of me ...
but walking your lanes, i realise
i dont need mirrors. i still have me.
thank you, spring. for the melting
i am so glad to be rediscovering ...
i dont need another best friend
at the end of the day, i have me.
the grounds are swept with petals of snow
a long winter is passing by
with a whisper of cracking ice
the river, at first shy
bereft of the burden it had half grown used to,
stripped naked, skin returned,
hesitates for a minute, then softly hums
in the fields, in purple and yellow
little flowers laze and soak the sun
a long winter is passing
a new day is coming
i changed my mind
excuse my temporary loss of reason
i am still the same
and still want full loaves
and voluntary contributions, at that
else i still know how to leave it
yes, that's probably all i can do well
though recently the treads on my trainers are wearing thin
even the one, can be forgotten
there are so many other places in the world
though, i'd always miss your special grey streets
and the burst of laughter unexpectedly
your contrasts. your contradictions. your madness
that reminded me of me ...
but walking your lanes, i realise
i dont need mirrors. i still have me.
thank you, spring. for the melting
i am so glad to be rediscovering ...
i dont need another best friend
at the end of the day, i have me.
Something ...
someone posted reminded me of this (old started and abandoned and made into random post) story ... here. And looking for it I found this that I had also loved so much. Two of my favourite children. lol. But then I love them all to distraction. Quite literall in this case ;0)
2 days to exams. The countdown begins. I have discovered, its still as hard as ever for me. And this reminds me of the last time ever I wrote college exams. Salty omlettes and 'fruit and nut's ... and now I am there again, in more ways than one. I never ever ever thought this was possible. This in itself is a huge stroke of luck, or a blessing, for the un-cynical. Enough. Anything more would be a bonus. A welcome bonus, but not something to be cried after. And after all, I had long promised you I wont do that. Anyway, so its not so bad. Everything is like a habit. Habits are formed because of the highs they bring. Before them something else got you the high. All you need is to rediscover that.
2 days to exams. The countdown begins. I have discovered, its still as hard as ever for me. And this reminds me of the last time ever I wrote college exams. Salty omlettes and 'fruit and nut's ... and now I am there again, in more ways than one. I never ever ever thought this was possible. This in itself is a huge stroke of luck, or a blessing, for the un-cynical. Enough. Anything more would be a bonus. A welcome bonus, but not something to be cried after. And after all, I had long promised you I wont do that. Anyway, so its not so bad. Everything is like a habit. Habits are formed because of the highs they bring. Before them something else got you the high. All you need is to rediscover that.
madcap, the games you play
Missing someone hits me in sharp stabs: like a kick in the stomach; and I dont even know who or what it really is! Maybe it hits hardest when I am tiredest. Been in the lab since 6 in the morning, and its going on 2 the next morning.
I wish I had some sort of self control. I stave it off for a while, but the minute I am done with work, the thoughts come rushing in, right back in.
When so many fine things are laid, if it not more, upon my table, why indeed do I only want the things that I cant have? and why indeed can i not have them? damn. I want what I want and I want it now!
Sometimes I feel mad because I just cant understand whats going on. Sometimes life seems to tease. It gets just so close and stops. Sometimes it feels like life is trying to tell me something. Sometimes life seems to like me, sometimes maybe I just over-read the signs ...
And does it matter either way? If life didnt, if life was fuck-all-crap, would I not want it? I dunno. So far even in my moments of deepest horrible-ness, I have still wanted life passionately. Till now. Even now I do. I just wish I didnt. Wish I didnt want it So Damn Much.
Now everything is changing. Suddenly, everything is changing. The fabric of everything I was is slipping out of my hands. Or maybe everything I was trying to be, or wanted to. Like sheets being drawn off stone, and I stand here exposed, closer to being me than ever before ... raw, live, unedited: foolish, childish, selfish, friendly, shy, hesitant, alive, dead, excited, jaded, tired ... tired, more than anything else.
Can one little 'thing' change so much for me? I feel like my life, my goals, my meanings, my values, everything has been turned over. And its only then that you notice that thats the one little 'thing' thats not for the having. Damn thing. Damn life. Damn me.
Can one little 'thing' change so much? And something that I never even really had? Only in my dreams. And what technicolour dreams. ('Thing' would, ofcourse, at this point say, "did you know dreams arent really in colour at all". Yes. I did. I'm not that dumb.)
It wasnt for the having at all. What a waste. What a lovely beautiful waste. It could have been so perfect.
Someone had once said to me, 'from you I learned about universal and unconditional love'. Thats not true. So often my love is tainted. Dirty with wanting. If I only loved, I would be happy, but I want. I dont know what i want, but I want ...
Its not fair. Life walks to you and says you can have everything, and just when you atlast find something you could have wanted, before you even have a chance to know if you really do, life says '... except for that ...'
I'm tired of being 3rd best. I'm tired of coming in the runners up. I'm tired of missing by just this much. I'm tired of always counting the money, the hours, the smiles, the amount I was friendly and hope it wasnt too b much to piss someone off.
I want to sit under the stars and eat sandwiches, I want to lie on the grass in the sun, I want to run and laugh and play, and I want to find out if you tickle. I want to know your deepest fears, I want to tell you mine, and I want you to want to know. I want to pull ur leg about stupid things, I want to flirt and joke and mock fight, I want to patch up. I want to hear your voice, whenever I want to hear your voie. I want to be able to see your face, reach out and touch, see your eyes shine, find out how it would feel to hold your hand. I want to hear you snoring again, I want to go to sleep again, knowing you are nearby, but nearer still. I want to wake up with you again, spend long lazy sundays, doing our own lazy things, all those silly stupid dreams, I had ever dreamed, I want them all to come true. I want to run, I want to fly, I want to run away from wanting so much ...
And just when I think I am done; just when I think I am over it all; you smile that way again. Just when I think I am done with you, your voice rings out again. Damn life! Life teases everyday. Just when I think I am ready to pack up, it gets me right in again.
But I guess by and by it will get better. Its only just a little something. By and by. give it time. it will pass. Its only just a little nothing.
And then there are times when I think I should just say it. Whats the worst that could happen. lol. Quite a lot. For the first time in my life, I think half a loaf is better than none. and I guess, if I give it time, it will pass ...
Its just that, there's that little something in my head, which keeps wondering, what if. I'm tired of pretending. Guessing. Playing games. I wonder what if ...
guess we'll never know.
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the scardest of them all? and i guess we'll never know, who's the scarder of us two ...
I dont know what I want anymore. I just want to go to sleep. I always got defensively angry when people said 'ur confused'. But now I know I am. So sue me. I'm f tired and confused and sick and bored of being 'good' and 'pc' and walking on eggshells all the f time. And trying not to hurt noone. And I'm tired of trying not to say f. I'm tired of being miss goody two shoes. And I'm tired of being miss contrary.
Guess I'm tired of being me ...
Incidentally, newly-proudly-philistine me is reading a work of fiction again. Been so long ... a room with a view. Damn. I thought I kicked that one. One by one I pick up flaws like typos from a wanna be perfect endless work in progress, and work them out. Soon, I wont know myself. I already dont know myself. I feel like I have come so far from who I was. I miss myself again. I wanna be me again.
I wish I had some sort of self control. I stave it off for a while, but the minute I am done with work, the thoughts come rushing in, right back in.
When so many fine things are laid, if it not more, upon my table, why indeed do I only want the things that I cant have? and why indeed can i not have them? damn. I want what I want and I want it now!
Sometimes I feel mad because I just cant understand whats going on. Sometimes life seems to tease. It gets just so close and stops. Sometimes it feels like life is trying to tell me something. Sometimes life seems to like me, sometimes maybe I just over-read the signs ...
And does it matter either way? If life didnt, if life was fuck-all-crap, would I not want it? I dunno. So far even in my moments of deepest horrible-ness, I have still wanted life passionately. Till now. Even now I do. I just wish I didnt. Wish I didnt want it So Damn Much.
Now everything is changing. Suddenly, everything is changing. The fabric of everything I was is slipping out of my hands. Or maybe everything I was trying to be, or wanted to. Like sheets being drawn off stone, and I stand here exposed, closer to being me than ever before ... raw, live, unedited: foolish, childish, selfish, friendly, shy, hesitant, alive, dead, excited, jaded, tired ... tired, more than anything else.
Can one little 'thing' change so much for me? I feel like my life, my goals, my meanings, my values, everything has been turned over. And its only then that you notice that thats the one little 'thing' thats not for the having. Damn thing. Damn life. Damn me.
Can one little 'thing' change so much? And something that I never even really had? Only in my dreams. And what technicolour dreams. ('Thing' would, ofcourse, at this point say, "did you know dreams arent really in colour at all". Yes. I did. I'm not that dumb.)
It wasnt for the having at all. What a waste. What a lovely beautiful waste. It could have been so perfect.
Someone had once said to me, 'from you I learned about universal and unconditional love'. Thats not true. So often my love is tainted. Dirty with wanting. If I only loved, I would be happy, but I want. I dont know what i want, but I want ...
Its not fair. Life walks to you and says you can have everything, and just when you atlast find something you could have wanted, before you even have a chance to know if you really do, life says '... except for that ...'
I'm tired of being 3rd best. I'm tired of coming in the runners up. I'm tired of missing by just this much. I'm tired of always counting the money, the hours, the smiles, the amount I was friendly and hope it wasnt too b much to piss someone off.
I want to sit under the stars and eat sandwiches, I want to lie on the grass in the sun, I want to run and laugh and play, and I want to find out if you tickle. I want to know your deepest fears, I want to tell you mine, and I want you to want to know. I want to pull ur leg about stupid things, I want to flirt and joke and mock fight, I want to patch up. I want to hear your voice, whenever I want to hear your voie. I want to be able to see your face, reach out and touch, see your eyes shine, find out how it would feel to hold your hand. I want to hear you snoring again, I want to go to sleep again, knowing you are nearby, but nearer still. I want to wake up with you again, spend long lazy sundays, doing our own lazy things, all those silly stupid dreams, I had ever dreamed, I want them all to come true. I want to run, I want to fly, I want to run away from wanting so much ...
And just when I think I am done; just when I think I am over it all; you smile that way again. Just when I think I am done with you, your voice rings out again. Damn life! Life teases everyday. Just when I think I am ready to pack up, it gets me right in again.
But I guess by and by it will get better. Its only just a little something. By and by. give it time. it will pass. Its only just a little nothing.
And then there are times when I think I should just say it. Whats the worst that could happen. lol. Quite a lot. For the first time in my life, I think half a loaf is better than none. and I guess, if I give it time, it will pass ...
Its just that, there's that little something in my head, which keeps wondering, what if. I'm tired of pretending. Guessing. Playing games. I wonder what if ...
guess we'll never know.
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the scardest of them all? and i guess we'll never know, who's the scarder of us two ...
I dont know what I want anymore. I just want to go to sleep. I always got defensively angry when people said 'ur confused'. But now I know I am. So sue me. I'm f tired and confused and sick and bored of being 'good' and 'pc' and walking on eggshells all the f time. And trying not to hurt noone. And I'm tired of trying not to say f. I'm tired of being miss goody two shoes. And I'm tired of being miss contrary.
Guess I'm tired of being me ...
Incidentally, newly-proudly-philistine me is reading a work of fiction again. Been so long ... a room with a view. Damn. I thought I kicked that one. One by one I pick up flaws like typos from a wanna be perfect endless work in progress, and work them out. Soon, I wont know myself. I already dont know myself. I feel like I have come so far from who I was. I miss myself again. I wanna be me again.
Top 5 Beatles Songs
Okay, everyone who was making a noise about beatles songs ... I know I promised this one coming up, but CJ was right ... its near f impossible!
Definitely Jealous Guy is one of my favourites, but does it count as a beatles song? I dunno enough about the Beatles to know! And the same for Vanilla Sky and The Ballad of John and Yoko???
, vanilla sky on youtube and
What beatles originally meant to me was stuff like 'close your eyes', 'love love me do', 'she loves you', 'should've have known' and 'i wanna hold your hand'. Those were the songs of the phase of the beatles I grew up listening to people listening to. Those were the songs I knew (know?) by heart, with every tiny sound, in the order they were on the records ... even with the scratchings on the record :)
But now after all these years, if I had to come with a list of my top 5 favourites beatles songs, it would be, I guess:
1. Something
2. Here comes the sun
3. Because
4. When i'm 64
5. In my life
Runners Ups :)
1. I'm a believer
Couldnt find this anywhere! Maybe the Monkeys ...
So i'll give you another ... ;)
2. Nothings gonna change my world
3. If i fell in love with you
4. Hey Jude
5. Eleanor Rigby
Join in and Leave your Top 5 Beatles list in the comments ... :)
Definitely Jealous Guy is one of my favourites, but does it count as a beatles song? I dunno enough about the Beatles to know! And the same for Vanilla Sky and The Ballad of John and Yoko???
, vanilla sky on youtube and
What beatles originally meant to me was stuff like 'close your eyes', 'love love me do', 'she loves you', 'should've have known' and 'i wanna hold your hand'. Those were the songs of the phase of the beatles I grew up listening to people listening to. Those were the songs I knew (know?) by heart, with every tiny sound, in the order they were on the records ... even with the scratchings on the record :)
But now after all these years, if I had to come with a list of my top 5 favourites beatles songs, it would be, I guess:
1. Something
2. Here comes the sun
3. Because
4. When i'm 64
5. In my life
Runners Ups :)
1. I'm a believer
Couldnt find this anywhere! Maybe the Monkeys ...
So i'll give you another ... ;)
2. Nothings gonna change my world
3. If i fell in love with you
4. Hey Jude
5. Eleanor Rigby
Join in and Leave your Top 5 Beatles list in the comments ... :)
little help from my friends ...
I am looking for information on this course: SMFA Boston - Post-Baccalaureate Certificate Program (for Drawing and Painting - or whatever they call it - making pictures, i guess)
Like how good or bad it is, How its different from an Master of Fine Arts, How good the college is, etc?
If anyone who reads this knows about (or knows anyone who knows about) this course, or fine arts courses in general, or SMFA Boston - Post-Baccalaureate programs in the USA ... I would really appreciate it if you got in touch ... :)
Like how good or bad it is, How its different from an Master of Fine Arts, How good the college is, etc?
If anyone who reads this knows about (or knows anyone who knows about) this course, or fine arts courses in general, or SMFA Boston - Post-Baccalaureate programs in the USA ... I would really appreciate it if you got in touch ... :)
And help me understand?
on days like this, thoughts whizz through your head like flies on a caracass. how appropriate. there's so much to say, but how would you say it. so times like these are ghalib times ... rahi na taquat e guftaar, aur agar ho bhi ...
i dont know why my heart still breaks when i think of these kids. very early they learn to keep a safe distance from 'them'. its always 'us' and 'them'. nice normal healthy innocent kids. with sweet memories of childhood. good food, good advice, nice names, birth certificates. how long does it take to get over your childhood? it takes some of these kids forever and a day.
just today someone asked me something that set me trying to pinpoint why and when exactly i miss you most. i used to think its in times like these. who else would know enough, who else would understand. but when i am faced with those kids and their little aching hearts, their stunted bonsai brains, their hopelessly hopeless confusion. (always confusion - yes i think the confusion is the central theme of their bequest). and their hard earned shells. their little aquired greedy, shameless, lustful, selfish ways. their poison. their sweetness. their bitterness. chocolat amer. (i think they were what i had named that ex blog after).
they go round and round in circles. they bang their heads against the walls they are trapped in. they look for friends. tehy want all the worng friends. greedily. the ones they cant have. the ones who will never love them enough. the ones who will never love them their way. maybe you need to be seared like that. branded. marked. maimed, beautiful itricate, complicated bonsai-d, to know feeling like that.
what the f am i writing about? i really dont even know. lol. guess i am really tired and i should crash. another round coming up immediately ...
i dont know why my heart still breaks when i think of these kids. very early they learn to keep a safe distance from 'them'. its always 'us' and 'them'. nice normal healthy innocent kids. with sweet memories of childhood. good food, good advice, nice names, birth certificates. how long does it take to get over your childhood? it takes some of these kids forever and a day.
just today someone asked me something that set me trying to pinpoint why and when exactly i miss you most. i used to think its in times like these. who else would know enough, who else would understand. but when i am faced with those kids and their little aching hearts, their stunted bonsai brains, their hopelessly hopeless confusion. (always confusion - yes i think the confusion is the central theme of their bequest). and their hard earned shells. their little aquired greedy, shameless, lustful, selfish ways. their poison. their sweetness. their bitterness. chocolat amer. (i think they were what i had named that ex blog after).
they go round and round in circles. they bang their heads against the walls they are trapped in. they look for friends. tehy want all the worng friends. greedily. the ones they cant have. the ones who will never love them enough. the ones who will never love them their way. maybe you need to be seared like that. branded. marked. maimed, beautiful itricate, complicated bonsai-d, to know feeling like that.
what the f am i writing about? i really dont even know. lol. guess i am really tired and i should crash. another round coming up immediately ...
Top 5 Time Again: Top Five Songs you have ever identified with
... if you would like to play along, leave your Top 5 in the comments :)
1) I'm Easy. Keith C.
This is my favourite song (specially at the moment! :)). If you havent heard it, please do go to here and check it out) :)
SONG
LYRICS
2) Sometimes when we touch. Dan Hill
I fell in love with this song in school (lucknow socials - dia kaur and anjali utthup i think were singing it in lawrence hall. But I maybe wrong - it was a long time ago. Has always stayed in my head, though.
SONG
LYRICS
3) Knife. Rockwell
SONG: This is the Closest I could come/find to an online version!
LYRICS
4) Another Lonely Day. Ben Harper (or was it Hunters and Collectors?)
SONG
LYRICS
5) Desparado. The Eagles
SONG
LYRICS
Runner UpS :)
1) You and I. The Scorpions
One of my favourite - EST songs :) Corny but ...
LYRICS)
SONG
2) Rockabye. Shawn Mullins (I think)
LYRICS
3) Send in The Clowns
Huge all time favourite of mine :)
LYRICS
4)Whats love got to do with it. Tina Turner
Old favourite from school days. It always makes me smile :)
SONG
LYRICS
5) For All We Know
One of those early first songs you here your parents playing grow to love too
Incidentally, 'their song' (there's a kind of hush) also is one of my favourites ...
LYRICS
6) The Way We WereLYRICS
And I loved the movie ...
7) Unforgiven. Metallica
LYRICS
8) I wanna hold your hand. The Beatles
9) Silent in the Morning. Phish
10) Be my Baby. I dont remember who it was by ... :)
Next list coming up soon: Top 5 Beatles Songs (Maybe 'Because', 'Something', 'Here comes the Sun', 'Love love me do' ... ??? Dunno, this one's even harder to pick a top 5 from :D)
1) I'm Easy. Keith C.
This is my favourite song (specially at the moment! :)). If you havent heard it, please do go to here and check it out) :)
SONG
LYRICS
2) Sometimes when we touch. Dan Hill
I fell in love with this song in school (lucknow socials - dia kaur and anjali utthup i think were singing it in lawrence hall. But I maybe wrong - it was a long time ago. Has always stayed in my head, though.
SONG
LYRICS
3) Knife. Rockwell
SONG: This is the Closest I could come/find to an online version!
LYRICS
4) Another Lonely Day. Ben Harper (or was it Hunters and Collectors?)
SONG
LYRICS
5) Desparado. The Eagles
SONG
LYRICS
Runner UpS :)
1) You and I. The Scorpions
One of my favourite - EST songs :) Corny but ...
LYRICS)
SONG
2) Rockabye. Shawn Mullins (I think)
LYRICS
3) Send in The Clowns
Huge all time favourite of mine :)
LYRICS
4)Whats love got to do with it. Tina Turner
Old favourite from school days. It always makes me smile :)
SONG
LYRICS
5) For All We Know
One of those early first songs you here your parents playing grow to love too
Incidentally, 'their song' (there's a kind of hush) also is one of my favourites ...
LYRICS
6) The Way We WereLYRICS
And I loved the movie ...
7) Unforgiven. Metallica
LYRICS
8) I wanna hold your hand. The Beatles
9) Silent in the Morning. Phish
10) Be my Baby. I dont remember who it was by ... :)
Next list coming up soon: Top 5 Beatles Songs (Maybe 'Because', 'Something', 'Here comes the Sun', 'Love love me do' ... ??? Dunno, this one's even harder to pick a top 5 from :D)
word master WIP
to be completed ...
this time, its not about the words
this time the emotions
just come flood
lash at tightly shut teeth and fists and eyes
and rage and storm and whisper and tease
then give up and go away again
this time feelings are not caught, trapped, teased, taunted
and each wrenched to the very last syllable
this time, its not about the words brought
this time i am june.
trapped.
and here's my dostevsky
this time ur both cruel and soft,
like him, like her. and the banker.
this time, must pass soon
its good that u leave
or this time might be strong enough
to push me past the edge where i live
heartbreak, i have dealt with
i'll know how to handle that
just go. take the confusion
the swirl of hope and despair
this time, its not about the words
this time the emotions
just come flood
lash at tightly shut teeth and fists and eyes
and rage and storm and whisper and tease
then give up and go away again
this time feelings are not caught, trapped, teased, taunted
and each wrenched to the very last syllable
this time, its not about the words brought
this time i am june.
trapped.
and here's my dostevsky
this time ur both cruel and soft,
like him, like her. and the banker.
this time, must pass soon
its good that u leave
or this time might be strong enough
to push me past the edge where i live
heartbreak, i have dealt with
i'll know how to handle that
just go. take the confusion
the swirl of hope and despair
Outline
OUTLINE
Priya is a 21 year old girl, in her final year of college. She from an ordinary middle class indian family. bengali. the kinds who have stray relatives here and there who are highly educated and well placed and stray ancestors who were big names, but the family itself is very ordinary. Dad is very typical - hard working humble - doesnt think too much or expect too much from life. Mom is quiet in way of someone who was very colourful and had big dreams but gave in to what life offered her and shut up about what she had wanted. Priya has a brother, Nirmal. He is younger to her and stays away from home most of the day job hunting. He is frustrated and a little bitter.
She is attractive and looks very striking now and then, but she is not really pretty or beautiful.
One day she is coming home from somewhere and a group of local boys lounging around in front of a semi-deserted park passes a comment as she walks by. She recognises one of them as Rahul, someone who she knows vaguely through their families. he is a nice boy from a decent family and she wonders what he is doing with this crowd. She hurries past and is irritated but then forgets about it. She tells her mom about it, not expecting her to repeat it to the rest of the family, but she hadnt really thought abt it one way or the other. However, the mom brings it up after dinner. The dad expresses concrns. Brother passes a sarcastic comment (implying) questioning her part in the whole incident.
Some time passes
One afternoon this same group of guys, or some of them, has had a lot to drink and are a bit out of control. One of them, Rahul, more so than the rest. They get into a mood of playful betting and as they are drunk and young and excited, high on the alchohol and on life, the stakes get higher and higher. One of them starts talking about girls and they start boasting about things they have done or would dare to do. It snowballs. Someone dares Rahul to make out with a girl. At that moment Priya passes by and they pin on her. By this time they barely know what they are doing and Rahul follows Priya till the park and rapes her there. Afterwards she faints.
When she comes to it's evening. She is initially just under shock. Somehow she drags herself home. Her mom is the first to see her and their is some drama which echo's the earlier incident, scaled up. However, her parents are completely sympathetic, but it never strikes them to go to the police about it or do anything but try to hush it up. They cant even imagine it. It doesnt even strike them.
Slowly a few people come to know. People come over and ask questions, some are plain curious, some are like her brother, some genuinely sympathetic. Priya is in shock. Numb. Part of her listens to all the conversations around her. Rest of her is blank, with occasional flashes of the incident coming back to haunt her. When these happen she just quickly shuts off all thought to survive the intensity of the pain.
One lady comes over (there is some intro to her before). She is a para-didi. Single. 35. Very well educated. People admire her achievements yet look at her kind of like she were a strange being - they cant understand the difference betw themselves and her. This lady is v kind to Priya and Priya peeps out a little from the shell of numbness she has woven around her mind. The lady asks Priya to go to the police. She stills Priya's immediate panic at the suggestion and explains how this could have happened to someone else if Priya doesnt take action. Priya is just beginning to think about it when her mom hears whats going on and comes over. Mom is shocked at the sugestion in her gentle way and says no way - explains nicely that we - our kind of family - cant afford to do that sort of thing - who will marry her - etc. Priya had been about to come out of her shell but sort of just draws back in bcz coming partway out was too much of an effort.
She just hangs around the house all day doing nothing. brother passes sarcastic comments. parents are worried and disturbed and have discussions. They encourage her to try and get back to normal life. She goes to college one day, but she feels like evryone is looking at her. Her brothers voice (and some other people who were shown when the visitors - types - categories) comes to her mind and so does flashes of the rape. She freaks and runs away.
She doesnt know where she is going but when she stops she is at the park. She sits in the same place she found herself when she woke up and cries. Rahul comes by. She runs away.
Rahul, is a 'good' boy from a 'decent' family who got carried away and made a really stupid mistake. He is torn by remorse and just cant get over it. His family knows and they are very devastated and dissapointed in him, and also worried about the legal implications. His mom at some level is just disgusted and treats him like there was some animal hidden in him all along and she mistook him as someone she could love as her own son ... as if all those years of loving him were a mistake. his dad is not talking to him but he is more angry about the practical point of view and about their social standing position. they also feel genuinely bad for the girl, but they are more overwhelmingly taken up by the whole fact that it was their son that did this. diff reactions. Mixed feelings. Rahul, however, is not angry or bothered, he hates himself - as if he did it on a high and when he woke up it was done. He just cant believe what he has done. He wants to apologise but how do you apologise for something so big? everytime he tries he loses the nerve. Instead he ends up haunting the park where it happened ... like poking a healing scab, trying to hold on to the pain in its bitter sweet stage. (he is enjoying his agony? scale? big-ness +ve or -ve of things having happened to him in life?)
Priya discovers she is pregnant. Before she can even digest the info her parents find out. All hell breaks lose. She is still half numb.
She thinks about it a lot and she realises / or feels that there is only one way out. She doesnt want an abortion bcz its her baby, however it was conceived. She wants to keep the baby. Coming from the background she does, no one will marry her with and baby and she cant have the baby and keep it on her own. She hasnt even finished college. She has to marry if she wants to keep the baby and the only who will or could be or should be made to marry her is Rahul.
Maybe at some level she senes Rahul is basically good, and is now remorseful. She realises he comes to the park often (how?) and she goes there one day to wait for him, without telling anyone at home.
As Rahul approaches the park, he see's Priya. This time he is the one who is surprised and is about to immediately turn and walk away, but she call him. He's even more surprised and he walks over to her. For a while no one says anything. Then he tries to apologise (what will he say?). Priya stops him and says she is pregnant. She doesnt want to drop the baby, she says. He doesnt know what to say. She forgives him and understands that it was a mistake on his part and he is repentant. He understands how she is feeling. They both know there's not much they can do about the past and that the grief it has already caused, created: like an entity, like the baby, will not go away, atleast not for a long time and noone other than them will really understand. They sit there quietly for a while just sharing that grief wordlessly. Then he says he will get a job and they can get married. She says something trivial / practical about marraige and the future. And it closes there
Priya is a 21 year old girl, in her final year of college. She from an ordinary middle class indian family. bengali. the kinds who have stray relatives here and there who are highly educated and well placed and stray ancestors who were big names, but the family itself is very ordinary. Dad is very typical - hard working humble - doesnt think too much or expect too much from life. Mom is quiet in way of someone who was very colourful and had big dreams but gave in to what life offered her and shut up about what she had wanted. Priya has a brother, Nirmal. He is younger to her and stays away from home most of the day job hunting. He is frustrated and a little bitter.
She is attractive and looks very striking now and then, but she is not really pretty or beautiful.
One day she is coming home from somewhere and a group of local boys lounging around in front of a semi-deserted park passes a comment as she walks by. She recognises one of them as Rahul, someone who she knows vaguely through their families. he is a nice boy from a decent family and she wonders what he is doing with this crowd. She hurries past and is irritated but then forgets about it. She tells her mom about it, not expecting her to repeat it to the rest of the family, but she hadnt really thought abt it one way or the other. However, the mom brings it up after dinner. The dad expresses concrns. Brother passes a sarcastic comment (implying) questioning her part in the whole incident.
Some time passes
One afternoon this same group of guys, or some of them, has had a lot to drink and are a bit out of control. One of them, Rahul, more so than the rest. They get into a mood of playful betting and as they are drunk and young and excited, high on the alchohol and on life, the stakes get higher and higher. One of them starts talking about girls and they start boasting about things they have done or would dare to do. It snowballs. Someone dares Rahul to make out with a girl. At that moment Priya passes by and they pin on her. By this time they barely know what they are doing and Rahul follows Priya till the park and rapes her there. Afterwards she faints.
When she comes to it's evening. She is initially just under shock. Somehow she drags herself home. Her mom is the first to see her and their is some drama which echo's the earlier incident, scaled up. However, her parents are completely sympathetic, but it never strikes them to go to the police about it or do anything but try to hush it up. They cant even imagine it. It doesnt even strike them.
Slowly a few people come to know. People come over and ask questions, some are plain curious, some are like her brother, some genuinely sympathetic. Priya is in shock. Numb. Part of her listens to all the conversations around her. Rest of her is blank, with occasional flashes of the incident coming back to haunt her. When these happen she just quickly shuts off all thought to survive the intensity of the pain.
One lady comes over (there is some intro to her before). She is a para-didi. Single. 35. Very well educated. People admire her achievements yet look at her kind of like she were a strange being - they cant understand the difference betw themselves and her. This lady is v kind to Priya and Priya peeps out a little from the shell of numbness she has woven around her mind. The lady asks Priya to go to the police. She stills Priya's immediate panic at the suggestion and explains how this could have happened to someone else if Priya doesnt take action. Priya is just beginning to think about it when her mom hears whats going on and comes over. Mom is shocked at the sugestion in her gentle way and says no way - explains nicely that we - our kind of family - cant afford to do that sort of thing - who will marry her - etc. Priya had been about to come out of her shell but sort of just draws back in bcz coming partway out was too much of an effort.
She just hangs around the house all day doing nothing. brother passes sarcastic comments. parents are worried and disturbed and have discussions. They encourage her to try and get back to normal life. She goes to college one day, but she feels like evryone is looking at her. Her brothers voice (and some other people who were shown when the visitors - types - categories) comes to her mind and so does flashes of the rape. She freaks and runs away.
She doesnt know where she is going but when she stops she is at the park. She sits in the same place she found herself when she woke up and cries. Rahul comes by. She runs away.
Rahul, is a 'good' boy from a 'decent' family who got carried away and made a really stupid mistake. He is torn by remorse and just cant get over it. His family knows and they are very devastated and dissapointed in him, and also worried about the legal implications. His mom at some level is just disgusted and treats him like there was some animal hidden in him all along and she mistook him as someone she could love as her own son ... as if all those years of loving him were a mistake. his dad is not talking to him but he is more angry about the practical point of view and about their social standing position. they also feel genuinely bad for the girl, but they are more overwhelmingly taken up by the whole fact that it was their son that did this. diff reactions. Mixed feelings. Rahul, however, is not angry or bothered, he hates himself - as if he did it on a high and when he woke up it was done. He just cant believe what he has done. He wants to apologise but how do you apologise for something so big? everytime he tries he loses the nerve. Instead he ends up haunting the park where it happened ... like poking a healing scab, trying to hold on to the pain in its bitter sweet stage. (he is enjoying his agony? scale? big-ness +ve or -ve of things having happened to him in life?)
Priya discovers she is pregnant. Before she can even digest the info her parents find out. All hell breaks lose. She is still half numb.
She thinks about it a lot and she realises / or feels that there is only one way out. She doesnt want an abortion bcz its her baby, however it was conceived. She wants to keep the baby. Coming from the background she does, no one will marry her with and baby and she cant have the baby and keep it on her own. She hasnt even finished college. She has to marry if she wants to keep the baby and the only who will or could be or should be made to marry her is Rahul.
Maybe at some level she senes Rahul is basically good, and is now remorseful. She realises he comes to the park often (how?) and she goes there one day to wait for him, without telling anyone at home.
As Rahul approaches the park, he see's Priya. This time he is the one who is surprised and is about to immediately turn and walk away, but she call him. He's even more surprised and he walks over to her. For a while no one says anything. Then he tries to apologise (what will he say?). Priya stops him and says she is pregnant. She doesnt want to drop the baby, she says. He doesnt know what to say. She forgives him and understands that it was a mistake on his part and he is repentant. He understands how she is feeling. They both know there's not much they can do about the past and that the grief it has already caused, created: like an entity, like the baby, will not go away, atleast not for a long time and noone other than them will really understand. They sit there quietly for a while just sharing that grief wordlessly. Then he says he will get a job and they can get married. She says something trivial / practical about marraige and the future. And it closes there
Dolly (Part 2)
This just a brain dump - for the next part of a story I have been working on for a while. Its the story of a man who's daughter dies, and he always feels like he killed her, due to circumstances. One day when I have time, I will tidy it up and join it all together :)
This is the the part I wrote earlier, which comes further down in the story:
Then End
I.
the older i get,
with every passing day,
the more i skip back to my beginnings
there is a new determination
to be oblivious to forces from outside
stupid and pointless and dark
i want to live, more every day i progress towars the end of life
the more i recognise its inevitability
i could never do it
i love it to much
everyday, in all its madness and boredom or excitement
is dear and fun
and also, to do the things i want to
fill what remains with the best fruits of life
i like to laze on sunny afternoons
watch sun patterns on a stony ground
cloud shadows on rolling meadows
gulls with the sun on their wings
sunlight glinting on the water
i dont know or know that i belive in love
but there is this strange sense of wholeness
and peace, on everyday in the sun
like life has just begun
this too will pass
and soon
but i will not think about it today
tomorrow is another day
II.
and part of me looks over my shoulder
the road, thank god, almost untouched
lonely, rocky, full of falls, and hard
and the beginning ...
clean, untouched, fearless
only full of questions
and chatter and words and laughter
and sunshine
eternal sunshine ...
short lived
but safe
then the fall of the mighty empire
and the people of the refuge, shipped back to their origins
exciting, beuatiful, tropical, cruel, harsh
self absorbed
en-missioned
or so it then seemed
whispered, half guilty confidences
about the ways of the world
and secret indiscretions
analytical comparisms
and first hand demos
a whole new world of pagan excess
every kind and direction explored
in the first decade or two of life,
i still found them amazing and perplexing ...
so new, so different
a whole new world
and then there are so many dimensions to the latch key world ...
yet, in a way, we grew in the same garden
our first impressions and lessons, came from the same school
quaint, adventurous, 'different', but clean, wholesome, loving
then how did we turn out so different?
is it the seeds that matter? hers first hand, mine second ...
in the twisted of my lot
first came the artificial
then the real
first true and logical, then crazy and unpredictable
first kind, then harsh
unlike my role model, the little princess
i floundered for so long ...
so in my turn i tried to save the next edition
pack, isolate, separate
but its hard
the wild and the dark world has a beautiful face
and a fatal attraction
or maybe the dark stranger was right
the fatal flaw is in encoded in the seed
now we must decide ...
is it vital or fatal, to pass the baton on
is the madness in the hands of the he who last carries it,
in which case, we could work to wipe it clean,
or is it in the burning torch
which then, must be safely extinguished, destroyed, and the world made a better place
This is the the part I wrote earlier, which comes further down in the story:
Then End
I.
the older i get,
with every passing day,
the more i skip back to my beginnings
there is a new determination
to be oblivious to forces from outside
stupid and pointless and dark
i want to live, more every day i progress towars the end of life
the more i recognise its inevitability
i could never do it
i love it to much
everyday, in all its madness and boredom or excitement
is dear and fun
and also, to do the things i want to
fill what remains with the best fruits of life
i like to laze on sunny afternoons
watch sun patterns on a stony ground
cloud shadows on rolling meadows
gulls with the sun on their wings
sunlight glinting on the water
i dont know or know that i belive in love
but there is this strange sense of wholeness
and peace, on everyday in the sun
like life has just begun
this too will pass
and soon
but i will not think about it today
tomorrow is another day
II.
and part of me looks over my shoulder
the road, thank god, almost untouched
lonely, rocky, full of falls, and hard
and the beginning ...
clean, untouched, fearless
only full of questions
and chatter and words and laughter
and sunshine
eternal sunshine ...
short lived
but safe
then the fall of the mighty empire
and the people of the refuge, shipped back to their origins
exciting, beuatiful, tropical, cruel, harsh
self absorbed
en-missioned
or so it then seemed
whispered, half guilty confidences
about the ways of the world
and secret indiscretions
analytical comparisms
and first hand demos
a whole new world of pagan excess
every kind and direction explored
in the first decade or two of life,
i still found them amazing and perplexing ...
so new, so different
a whole new world
and then there are so many dimensions to the latch key world ...
yet, in a way, we grew in the same garden
our first impressions and lessons, came from the same school
quaint, adventurous, 'different', but clean, wholesome, loving
then how did we turn out so different?
is it the seeds that matter? hers first hand, mine second ...
in the twisted of my lot
first came the artificial
then the real
first true and logical, then crazy and unpredictable
first kind, then harsh
unlike my role model, the little princess
i floundered for so long ...
so in my turn i tried to save the next edition
pack, isolate, separate
but its hard
the wild and the dark world has a beautiful face
and a fatal attraction
or maybe the dark stranger was right
the fatal flaw is in encoded in the seed
now we must decide ...
is it vital or fatal, to pass the baton on
is the madness in the hands of the he who last carries it,
in which case, we could work to wipe it clean,
or is it in the burning torch
which then, must be safely extinguished, destroyed, and the world made a better place
"Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared
with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it
is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate."
Funny what sticks and stays in your head
Sometimes when I close my eyes I can relive all those moments ...
The sounds, the smells, the taste in my mouth, the feel of the ground under my feet
And her voice like thunder: are you ashamed of yourself
most of the times, i am :)
when it comes to screwing up - nobody does it better. i always thought that like one of those neo-arty movies, life will make sense in the end, when the pieces all fit together with a bang. and it does. it was never ur fault. or anybody elses. sometimes life is just a patchwork of different prototypes, different fairy tales. i had the ending wrong. there is no swan-turning. she was right - some people are just as dumb as they are ugly (funny how even when she said 'you are so nice' she made you feel like she was saying 'ur so dumb'). and ofcourse u dont forget even in 20 odd years hearing how stupid you are and how you would fall for any story. specially when you know its true. bah. it's bollocks. maybe everything that happens happens for a reason. trying random combinations, you will come up with a few bad designs. you should shelve them seperately and not put them in the stack for propogation. its for the best.
poor thorns. poor ducklings. poor stupid people.
with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it
is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate."
Funny what sticks and stays in your head
Sometimes when I close my eyes I can relive all those moments ...
The sounds, the smells, the taste in my mouth, the feel of the ground under my feet
And her voice like thunder: are you ashamed of yourself
most of the times, i am :)
when it comes to screwing up - nobody does it better. i always thought that like one of those neo-arty movies, life will make sense in the end, when the pieces all fit together with a bang. and it does. it was never ur fault. or anybody elses. sometimes life is just a patchwork of different prototypes, different fairy tales. i had the ending wrong. there is no swan-turning. she was right - some people are just as dumb as they are ugly (funny how even when she said 'you are so nice' she made you feel like she was saying 'ur so dumb'). and ofcourse u dont forget even in 20 odd years hearing how stupid you are and how you would fall for any story. specially when you know its true. bah. it's bollocks. maybe everything that happens happens for a reason. trying random combinations, you will come up with a few bad designs. you should shelve them seperately and not put them in the stack for propogation. its for the best.
poor thorns. poor ducklings. poor stupid people.
mist
missing steppenwolf (for mad men only) and aurangzeb at his father's bier (murdered voices beckon me?). and one scene from 4 weddings. After all these years, it still feels strange to be away from home just for this
not to be able to look up my books and movies when the itch strikes ;)
so maybe, this is what i miss ...
only madcap could help now
only madcap could do anything
make the air all around misty and dim
to let me see you once again
ofcourse, in the morning i myself would say
there are models of how it could happen this way
but in the moonlight, the moon you loved
i can close my eyes and dream of you again
madcap could help, madcap could help
madcap could make my dead walk again
somewhere inside pandora's box
your face, your voice, your touch your love
lost in a attic full of dust
madcap could bring you out again
and you were so beautiful
you skin albaster and pink, your eyes brown and grey
your eyes that loved so sincerely
that wed the eyes in the photograph that i burnt
you said they were heartbreakingly innocent
crumbling deceptive innocence that atlast fell that day
your ankles were so thing and delicate
speckled brown, turn charcoal grey
first thing i saw when i moved the red curtain
and took you out of the pot
i crushed you in my hands, once again
and shattered and scattered you away
to the bed of your gods,
to travel like you loved
maybe if i had sold them some more of soul
maybe prawns, maybe a road, maybe cities ...
maybe if i had negotiated better
we would still be together
but the bridge between us was so long and frail
roots to branches to leaves
now fall comes and leaves die dry drift away
only branches sway, over dead roots, giving away
i have made a treaty with the winds ...
they'll count my cost, but take the flower away
they'll count our costs,
the flower safe
you never saw how pretty it was
maybe it was too far away
so now they say its the only way
there's no tomorrow after today
but madcap doesnt come when called
you stand there calling, waiting till dawn
bereft, tear-dry, maddeningly sane
if at all, this be sane!
not to be able to look up my books and movies when the itch strikes ;)
so maybe, this is what i miss ...
only madcap could help now
only madcap could do anything
make the air all around misty and dim
to let me see you once again
ofcourse, in the morning i myself would say
there are models of how it could happen this way
but in the moonlight, the moon you loved
i can close my eyes and dream of you again
madcap could help, madcap could help
madcap could make my dead walk again
somewhere inside pandora's box
your face, your voice, your touch your love
lost in a attic full of dust
madcap could bring you out again
and you were so beautiful
you skin albaster and pink, your eyes brown and grey
your eyes that loved so sincerely
that wed the eyes in the photograph that i burnt
you said they were heartbreakingly innocent
crumbling deceptive innocence that atlast fell that day
your ankles were so thing and delicate
speckled brown, turn charcoal grey
first thing i saw when i moved the red curtain
and took you out of the pot
i crushed you in my hands, once again
and shattered and scattered you away
to the bed of your gods,
to travel like you loved
maybe if i had sold them some more of soul
maybe prawns, maybe a road, maybe cities ...
maybe if i had negotiated better
we would still be together
but the bridge between us was so long and frail
roots to branches to leaves
now fall comes and leaves die dry drift away
only branches sway, over dead roots, giving away
i have made a treaty with the winds ...
they'll count my cost, but take the flower away
they'll count our costs,
the flower safe
you never saw how pretty it was
maybe it was too far away
so now they say its the only way
there's no tomorrow after today
but madcap doesnt come when called
you stand there calling, waiting till dawn
bereft, tear-dry, maddeningly sane
if at all, this be sane!
the park on a sunny saturday afternoon
its late on a saturday afternoon. the sun is out and there are multicoloured children and dogs everywhere. everyone is happy and playful and contented. every now and then a new kind of bird comes along and hops around, before it flies away again. overhead the trees wave filigree fans in the soft breeze. the grass is dotted with little flowers. the sun is bright and beautiful, and just right. the sky that it bears the sun is soft and blue and bright and everything is perfection. if there are clouds, they are so far, that you cant really see.
so i sit here in this beautiful corner of the park, watching the strange sunlight fall all around me. like pan the mad god, he changes and moves with every minute. the light tumbles down, on the grass, in the tree's, on the hills. its easy to feel like it will stay, like the sun itself is falling. but the sun never falls, really. nor stays in one place forever. however beautiful the place is. after a few glorious days of sunshine, its easy to fall in love with the warmth; to resentfully miss it, when it moves, yet again. the park corner gets a shade colder and darker. and a little lonelier, even with the hordes of smiling friendly people.
there's nothing to say really, when you dont want to give it away. everything general, oblique and carefully cryptically secretly profound, has been said already. keeping secrets tires me. what if we just told the truth? maybe we could if we knew it ... today, i miss you both. one who is far away and one who is so distant. i dont know what i would do with it if the distance melted, but i for now, i miss it.
the movie last night had a reference to "follow your bliss". obedient to the recalled instructions, i close my eyes and remember my last 'bliss', but resurface with a random one. it was a while ago, walking in old lanes, very near here, back warm with the sun. thinking nothing really, but nice thoughts cushioning the moment, somewhere around in the head.
this line from 'in the mood for love' stayed with me. 'we will not be like them'; and like good resident lines, it keeps coming back in different contexts. i dont want to be like them. i dont want to mourn the most glorious thing i ever felt, to complain, find faults, bargain, measure and cry over. i am happy with having found one source for all things bright and beautiful. you would be happy with what you get, if you expected nothing.
yet the irony that underlies all things makes a sharp edge to tread the walk of life on. however vaguely friendly and lukewarmly impersonally the sun shines down on you, its nice to have it within your horizon somewhere, even when it is not in your eye. when it goes away, carried by the wind, the moon, even if there is no rain, dews a slight coat of moist down on the world, which slowly over time freezes to frost. but another tomorrow, there will be another day, with the same sun, till such time that time and change dont take it away. i am glad i know that, for me, this is the final destination, the one. or so it seems for now. it feels good to be back home in edinburgh.
i used to love this song. i think it was written by dylan (not dylan thomas, whoever he was), but i'm not sure. i first heard it in 'hope floats'. this is an awful version, but the only one i found online!
fool for you
any other fool would know
i'm fool for loving you
any other fool could see
but not the fool thats me
if only we could love where loved
so much love lays wasted
why weave these long chains of fancies
each equally unrequited
i'm fool for loving you
any other fool could see
but not the fool thats me
if only we could love where loved
so much love lays wasted
why weave these long chains of fancies
each equally unrequited
time
like butterflies
words and feelings
float about
in the semi dark neon ness
uncatchable
invisible
except, for a blur
suddenly you realise
something small
has been woven into you
a fleeting feeling
that could have been but a dream
that you will never know
if you imagined
will wake you restless in the night
your heart full of fear and longing
seeing you,
could not have come better timed
and yet fear swells with anxiety
what will tomorrow bring?
what will the years unfold?
something small
has been woven into me ...
it will forever float about me
like a shroud
of a faintly undiscernible
smell
or a memory
or a flower
or a shroud
which is it to be?
what will time unfold?
words and feelings
float about
in the semi dark neon ness
uncatchable
invisible
except, for a blur
suddenly you realise
something small
has been woven into you
a fleeting feeling
that could have been but a dream
that you will never know
if you imagined
will wake you restless in the night
your heart full of fear and longing
seeing you,
could not have come better timed
and yet fear swells with anxiety
what will tomorrow bring?
what will the years unfold?
something small
has been woven into me ...
it will forever float about me
like a shroud
of a faintly undiscernible
smell
or a memory
or a flower
or a shroud
which is it to be?
what will time unfold?
thorns
when is too much too much
time decides it afresh for each of us. we choose a thorn and push ourselves into it as far as we can bear the pain ... and then pause, take a breath and push in some more ... all for the singing ... or so says the legend
time decides it afresh for each of us. we choose a thorn and push ourselves into it as far as we can bear the pain ... and then pause, take a breath and push in some more ... all for the singing ... or so says the legend
Everywhere is You, You are in Everyone (misc random thoughts - school of divinity library, sanctuary)
ost - phish - silent in the morning
New Blog
Also been writing at Villa in Iceland, for a while now. I'm pretty kicked about it, actually :)
temptations
for a moment i was sorely tempted
i wanted to take your hand and say
just stay for a while
dont be so scared.
i wont ask for forever
a little scrap of your time
or your heart,
will last me a while
i wanted to hold on to you and cry
this time has broken.
even my stubborn heart.
i never felt like this before.
dont be scared for tomorrow.
i'll be gone before sunrise.
i'm more scarder than you are;
but stay tonight.
i need you, like i never knew
i could need before,
stay still for a moment,
or a night, or a few days.
hold me close, let me in
let me breathe your spirit in,
its so beautiful ...
ur perfection, defined.
let me warm my hands, in the light in your eyes.
i'm frozen from being outside.
stay still for a moment,
i'll be gone by daylight.
i'm not looking for forever.
just a little scrap of your time,
or your heart,
will last me a while.
i could have said all that
i would have said all that
if i only dared
if i only knew, if it wasnt just a lie
11.03.2007
i wanted to take your hand and say
just stay for a while
dont be so scared.
i wont ask for forever
a little scrap of your time
or your heart,
will last me a while
i wanted to hold on to you and cry
this time has broken.
even my stubborn heart.
i never felt like this before.
dont be scared for tomorrow.
i'll be gone before sunrise.
i'm more scarder than you are;
but stay tonight.
i need you, like i never knew
i could need before,
stay still for a moment,
or a night, or a few days.
hold me close, let me in
let me breathe your spirit in,
its so beautiful ...
ur perfection, defined.
let me warm my hands, in the light in your eyes.
i'm frozen from being outside.
stay still for a moment,
i'll be gone by daylight.
i'm not looking for forever.
just a little scrap of your time,
or your heart,
will last me a while.
i could have said all that
i would have said all that
if i only dared
if i only knew, if it wasnt just a lie
11.03.2007
gypsy boy
walking in the evening
i met a gypsy boy
he looked dreaming, happy
he looked kind of sad
so i smiled at him and he smiled back
and i asked him where he was at
this is what he said to me
as he smiled and answered back
he said, i'm standing at a point
where i have never been before
seen either side of the road
but never trappen in the middle before
and from this place and moment
i wouldnt know where to go
if this road goes nowhere
i dont know where i'll go
so i asked him if he'll come with me
come out from the cold
he shaked his head and smiled again
and he said he'd never leave
friends
funny how i never saw what you saw ...
thank god you pointed it out!
i was blinded by my most sacred alter.
or maybe even that was always self deception?
could it be for anyone so hard to learn
that your internal image of relating is essentially flawed
it's vital not to care too much. or to judge, target worth
three decades. is that too much to learn?
my little one. i have tried so hard to save you.
to hide you. to teach you. shelter you while you grow
but i need your help to make it, love.
if you keep coming out, they will keep doing this
now dont come to me with big torn eyes
dont sit before me staring at the blood that way
i had warned you, about perfect strangers
they're not like you. they're flawed in a different way.
colour purple
over my head, the waters swirl blue and black and green
jagged little pieces of logic everywhere, sinking in
none hit me, though some scraped my skin, brushing past
filtered by the water, above my head
the sun shines bright and red
blown far far away by the blast
i watch the realization in a white bubble near my head
i must move out of here, before i sink
you cold warmth, your determined undeterminism
grey and white for practicality
and a little bit of green and brown and blue
because you love the skies too.
wild purples, a indigo and swirls of red moss
the sea, deep below, the sky on a stormy night
the still of hanging stars in the night.
and in the distance, i see you.
i am trying to reach out, can you see me
hold my hand. stop me. pull me out. before its too late.
death is born in the birth
time is framed and couched in time
it never goes on, but in circles
what will you stand in the center?
what fill with each days worth?
what will i do with this life?
you were right when you said what you said
whats the point of it all, at all?
maybe time has come to run again. if nothing, there's always fresh starts
Imagine ...
If you could make a world of your own, a life of your own, what would you change, if you could change anything?
This is what I am thinking. Small house, barley beer, lots of friends, just enough on the table for everyone, barely, ends stretched and made to meet with love and smiles. Snotty nosed children, with pink faces burtsing with laughter and wonder. And you and me. Exchanging glances. Knowing that you know that i know that you know, ad infinitum, that this is what and where and when. (The way we do when we see those nice mommies and daddies)
Outside, the rain is spitting. Somehow, here it doesnt seem as bad as the spitting I always complained about in my letters from Pune and Bristol. So you laugh at me, because you always know, dont you?
The sky has bent down low to share a joke with the earth. The mountains (and I cant get over how amazed you are with the snow) stand tall and bit indifferent. Fascinatingly stoic.
This is what I am thinking. Small house, barley beer, lots of friends, just enough on the table for everyone, barely, ends stretched and made to meet with love and smiles. Snotty nosed children, with pink faces burtsing with laughter and wonder. And you and me. Exchanging glances. Knowing that you know that i know that you know, ad infinitum, that this is what and where and when. (The way we do when we see those nice mommies and daddies)
Outside, the rain is spitting. Somehow, here it doesnt seem as bad as the spitting I always complained about in my letters from Pune and Bristol. So you laugh at me, because you always know, dont you?
The sky has bent down low to share a joke with the earth. The mountains (and I cant get over how amazed you are with the snow) stand tall and bit indifferent. Fascinatingly stoic.
for kiddo ...
it makes sense, doesnt it, that i love you so madly? i learned it in class today (EP)! partly, its genetic shared investment. then its the fact that we are alike. then its the fact that like the bee-eaters, i'm in last term, with low chances so better chances to pass the shared bit of the baton if i help you out than get distracted with endeavours of my own ;0)
yeah. i am just kidding. felt so good to talk to you. been so long. Kufree? wow! i never even knew there was such a plac.
yeah. i am just kidding. felt so good to talk to you. been so long. Kufree? wow! i never even knew there was such a plac.
moonshine
the colourless moon
stained blue and yellow
from hanging with the stars in a midnight sky
slowly droops, as his courage wilts
every now and then he smiles
down a shine
to charge the reflection below
so far away, floating on a uneven face of lead
no wonder it was distorted
does she really think
i look like that?
the wilting moon, tiring wonders:
i love you all
but the mountains call
if i leave today,
wouldnt you miss me at all?
i know that it would break her heart
and i know i could almost not bear to part
but at times, i get so tired
i cant wait for the tomorrow to start.
the stars will shine on
through the night
and the reflections
stand the test of time.
shadow so pure
so scared and clean
everything that he wanted to be
a better him. maybe he should just leave.
cold, leaden, unsmiling, uneven water
so far away. so changing
now giggling best friend. now cold heartless stranger
so far away. wouldnt even notice.
but from this night out
the road is long
and the path unmarked
and the end unknown.
the colourless moon
stained blue and yellow
from hanging with the stars in a midnight sky
slowly droops, as his courage wilts.
every now and then he smiles
down a shine
to charge the reflection below
so far away, she floats like lead
i love them all
but the darkness calls
if i leave today,
would'nt you miss me at all?
Near death experiences linked to sleep anomalies
Connections between out-of-body and near death experiences, and people who have unusual experiences when falling asleep or waking, have been found by Kevin Nelson and colleagues.
More @ Mind Hacks.
More @ Mind Hacks.
2 out of 3 and other old favourites
Talking of old songs, with memories, that hit you on the head sometime or the other with the amazing real life applicability of the lyrics, songs you had forgotten and then you suddenly hear somewhere, or something puts in your head, i'd give you these:
1. Meatloaf: 2 out of 3
2. Shawn Mullins - Lullaby
3. Peter Cetera - No Explanations
4. Keith Carradine - I'm Easy
5. Leonard Cohen - Suzzanne
i like lists to be 5, but: ... guess is a category by itself
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rQzsqrkbrU
1. Meatloaf: 2 out of 3
2. Shawn Mullins - Lullaby
3. Peter Cetera - No Explanations
4. Keith Carradine - I'm Easy
5. Leonard Cohen - Suzzanne
i like lists to be 5, but: ... guess is a category by itself
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rQzsqrkbrU
Another Beautiful Mind
When Eleanor Longden began hearing things, she soon found herself drugged, sectioned and labelled schizophrenic. Then a psychiatrist taught her how to talk back
Eleanor Longden, 25, started hearing voices when she was a teenager. But, contrary to the usual perception of inner voices, Longden says hers weren't destructive: "It was rather mundane, simply giving me a narration of some of the day-to-day things I was doing. In many ways, the voice was companionate because it was reminding me that I was carrying on with my responsibilities despite feeling so sad inside. There was something constructive about it."
People like Longden who admit to hearing inner voices can generally expect two outcomes: a diagnosis of insanity, and potent medication. But a group of psychiatrists and psychologists believe it's time we reconsidered labels such as schizophrenia and the drugs used as treatment. In fact, they believe we should get people to listen to, and actually engage with, the voices inside their heads.
The network has a growing professional following, Dillon says. "We get a lot of referrals from psychiatrists nowadays, although there's still a long way to go."
Talking heads
* Studies have found that between four and 10 per cent of Britons hear voices.
* Between 70 and 90 cent of people who hear voices do so following traumatic events.
* Voices can be male, female, without gender, child, adult, human or non-human.
* People may hear one voice or many. Some people report hearing hundreds, although in almost all reported cases, one dominates above the others.
* Voices can be experienced in the head, in the ears, outside the head, in some other part of the body, or in the environment.
* Voices often reflect important aspects of the hearer's emotional state - emotions that are often unexpressed by the hearer.
* The "hearing voices movement" has spread across the world. There are groups in countries as far afield as Australia, Finland, Japan and Palestine.
* Well-known voice hearers include Plato, Sigmund Freud, Beethoven, Byron, Charles Dickens, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Isaac Newton and Winston Churchill.
More Here.
Eleanor Longden, 25, started hearing voices when she was a teenager. But, contrary to the usual perception of inner voices, Longden says hers weren't destructive: "It was rather mundane, simply giving me a narration of some of the day-to-day things I was doing. In many ways, the voice was companionate because it was reminding me that I was carrying on with my responsibilities despite feeling so sad inside. There was something constructive about it."
People like Longden who admit to hearing inner voices can generally expect two outcomes: a diagnosis of insanity, and potent medication. But a group of psychiatrists and psychologists believe it's time we reconsidered labels such as schizophrenia and the drugs used as treatment. In fact, they believe we should get people to listen to, and actually engage with, the voices inside their heads.
The network has a growing professional following, Dillon says. "We get a lot of referrals from psychiatrists nowadays, although there's still a long way to go."
Talking heads
* Studies have found that between four and 10 per cent of Britons hear voices.
* Between 70 and 90 cent of people who hear voices do so following traumatic events.
* Voices can be male, female, without gender, child, adult, human or non-human.
* People may hear one voice or many. Some people report hearing hundreds, although in almost all reported cases, one dominates above the others.
* Voices can be experienced in the head, in the ears, outside the head, in some other part of the body, or in the environment.
* Voices often reflect important aspects of the hearer's emotional state - emotions that are often unexpressed by the hearer.
* The "hearing voices movement" has spread across the world. There are groups in countries as far afield as Australia, Finland, Japan and Palestine.
* Well-known voice hearers include Plato, Sigmund Freud, Beethoven, Byron, Charles Dickens, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Isaac Newton and Winston Churchill.
More Here.
Sometimes when we touch, Dan Hill
Another old favourite. I can still remember when I first heard this song. For some reason, it's tied up with "Twisting by the Pool" and "Diamonds and Rust". I think I heard them all for the first time in School, being played either by the school
band (featuring the then love of my life) or by Dia and Anjali during the lucknow socials. I can still remember Diya's voice as she leaned towards the mike and said, (our boys had just lost to lknw - so whats new) "well, you'll always be our heros"
Oh man - how COOL had it all seemed and how grown up those bloody 17 year olds had seemed. I couldnt wait to be all grown up too ...
I think I had forgotten about it till I saw it again in Brokeback Mt.
But I love the words of the song. Its one of those rare songs which are so real and everyday truth that you can actually identify with every word. Or, well, I can :)
But it makes me think, how much of the songs, or anything else, that we love are the stuff themselves and how much is the stuff that they remind us off or make us feel like or just any other association?
spiralling down, to the hole in the ground, where i hide
when you are broken
when you are blue
when you are tired of tending
to everybodies wounds
who do you turn to?
who shepherds the shephards
who listens to the listeners
who cares for the carers
because they hurt too.
every now and then, they draw a blank too
so what would i do if i was in your shoes
so this is the way you should look at it
so this is why it will get better for you
i'm fine. dont even ask.
believe me, you don't wanna know.
what would you do if there was no god to judge you
what would you live for if you didnt believe in love
what would you do, if i dissapeared.
wouldnt you miss me at all?
so where do i go to stock up again? cz i've run out of the wares i sell
it's a blue day in sunnydale
it's a blue day in hell
it's a mad day of madness
but all will be well again
in a min or two they'll fix the walls
when you are blue
when you are tired of tending
to everybodies wounds
who do you turn to?
who shepherds the shephards
who listens to the listeners
who cares for the carers
because they hurt too.
every now and then, they draw a blank too
so what would i do if i was in your shoes
so this is the way you should look at it
so this is why it will get better for you
i'm fine. dont even ask.
believe me, you don't wanna know.
what would you do if there was no god to judge you
what would you live for if you didnt believe in love
what would you do, if i dissapeared.
wouldnt you miss me at all?
so where do i go to stock up again? cz i've run out of the wares i sell
it's a blue day in sunnydale
it's a blue day in hell
it's a mad day of madness
but all will be well again
in a min or two they'll fix the walls
pop-quiz
You Are Expressionism |
 Moody, emotional, and even a bit angsty... you certainly know how to express your emotions. At times, you tend to lack perspective on your life, probably as a result of looking inward too much. This introspection does give you a flair for the dramatic. And it's even maybe made you cultivate some artistic talents! You have a true artist's temperament... which is a blessing and a curse. |
Just another lonely Day: Ben Harper
Just another lonely day, Ben Harper
This is one of my favouritest songs ever! I still remember the first time I heard it. I was looking for throw your arms around me, another favourite. As far as I know this was written by Hunters and Collectors, resung by PJ and BH. I love the words of both these songs. One of those that really do something to you ... but I also love the texture of his voice. Its one of those songs that makes me crazy. lol. if any making were needed ;)
And isnt it ironic that this youtube user has pic'd it to mona and chandler! monica and chandler have loads of pre-memories. mainly because i always hated the fact that joey and chandler break up bcz of her. damn. growing up. do we have to?)
In other notes, spring is sringing thought it doesnt seem that way from the tornado-like winds here, when I woke up and went down at 4 in the AM yesterday, I heard my first birdsong of the season :)
This is one of my favouritest songs ever! I still remember the first time I heard it. I was looking for throw your arms around me, another favourite. As far as I know this was written by Hunters and Collectors, resung by PJ and BH. I love the words of both these songs. One of those that really do something to you ... but I also love the texture of his voice. Its one of those songs that makes me crazy. lol. if any making were needed ;)
And isnt it ironic that this youtube user has pic'd it to mona and chandler! monica and chandler have loads of pre-memories. mainly because i always hated the fact that joey and chandler break up bcz of her. damn. growing up. do we have to?)
In other notes, spring is sringing thought it doesnt seem that way from the tornado-like winds here, when I woke up and went down at 4 in the AM yesterday, I heard my first birdsong of the season :)