rainy days
dark empty rooms
house plants in dim corners
dancing fairies in silver shafts of light
shadows of clouds on thge grass below
standing in the corner - staring into space -
squeezing the knife in the clasp - unmindful
fog on the hilltops
walking through a cloud
hot showers
milk with honey
melted dark chocolate
cooking for friends you love
making someone smile
an old friend
silver bottomed tiny dew pools in the cups of leaves at dawn
sunsets from a bar on 26th floor (jumeira b.h.)
a good movie
rahul bose - the actor
rahul bose - the poga - and pogie
egg mutton rolls
fillet mignon
language class
melted cheese
hot chocolate cake
making UP
cuddling with tupi
the sun on the terrace in winter
footsteps on dark stone streets
empty highways
boss (theres a secret garden ...)
the office before anyone gets there
old people, children, dogs and cats
two storey buses
big messy houses
"we chose, pick and sharpen our thorns and pressing ourselves on them, watch transfixed as the deep, dark blood, flows out in shallow pools in our palms. once more pain. one last time. i thought you could be made a friend. never again."
"the sky cried all night. in the morning, he turned his face up to me, like a little boy who has let it all out in a heavy shower of tears. Light. Still wet. A little tender. Almost unbearably sweet. I have this silly urge to smile at everyone I see"
"an irrepresible urge to fly into your arms and cry my heart out"
"the wind comes down from the skies and touches my hair, admiring the waves i spent my morning crafting. She says, I do that too. But they dont stay" (hair spray)
"when i look at you, my heart feels like a cup of think, dark, bitter sweet, chocolate. When you look at me, it falls down the heights of my inside, to the heart of my sould. Like a big fat drop, falling into the cup. It plops in and the ripples reach out and around. My heart quivers. My sould rings out with the echo" (this sounds really corny now)
Serendipitous days of gold
the weekend came and setlled down, in a flash of gold, as if to stay. after months i saw the sun shine so bright. so bright that my eyes hurt. and i remembered once more the sweet pleasure of cursing the heat.
saturday, i was up at 7 and on the water by 9. It was such a wonderfully warm day that even scary jo sitting bang behind me didntget me shivering! But seriously, everyone at the club is wonderful ... everyone who tries to teach you something, everyone who works his own energy to correct a mistake you are making / have made, to show you something they have seen, everyone who becomes a teacher
after the practise we walked along the banks for a bit, loath to go home on such a pretty day. I took the bus in the other direction all the way to 'hunters trsyt'. something about that name always called me
sunday, i watched 3 movies and read my book. in the evening i went for a walk, down a a well known path and inexplicably took a small sidelane i have never taken before. Like many roads here it was a dusty (grey, someone would have said), stone lane (or what we would have called a gulley), with shabby / comfortable houses on the right side and a wall on the left. From the main street I could not see where it ended or what it ended in. As I walked in, I found a gate at the end of the gulley, leading to a quaint, tiny park, with a old stone __ and a lake crowded with swans and ducks. The lake was surrounded by trees and benches and the whole place was full of people feeding the birds, sitting on the benches, running, walking. A small boy stood at the edge of the water frowning hard at the birds. Maybe he was wondering why these swam instead of flying like normal birds. I wonder too. The sunligh drizzled down from the shaggy, unruly canopy atop. the lake smiled a gracious welcome to the people in soft undulating waves. The birds sang in the trees.
It was beautiful. Still. Peaceful. Like the calm at the edges of worlds, between the real and the surreal. And yet I didnt feel like stopping there, There was another creaky old gate to the right. Its burnished metal warmed by the afternoon sun. I went through it. I found another tiny park and two men practising karate, like they show miaggi san teaching daniel on the beach. The slow, graceful, balanced dance. And a tiny little girl, sitting solemn faced on a park bench next to a lady, perhaps her mother, in earnest, serious conversation.
And yet I didnt feel like stopping there, I walked on and found a opening in the hedge. Walking through it, a huge park. It was the Inverleith Park. Full of huge dogs, tall trees, acorns in the grass and families strolling silently in the dawning evening.
Beyond the park I found the Royal Botannical Gardens, which I had been looking for for so long. And it had just closed. I guess Serendipity has to stop somewhere ;)
saturday, i was up at 7 and on the water by 9. It was such a wonderfully warm day that even scary jo sitting bang behind me didntget me shivering! But seriously, everyone at the club is wonderful ... everyone who tries to teach you something, everyone who works his own energy to correct a mistake you are making / have made, to show you something they have seen, everyone who becomes a teacher
after the practise we walked along the banks for a bit, loath to go home on such a pretty day. I took the bus in the other direction all the way to 'hunters trsyt'. something about that name always called me
sunday, i watched 3 movies and read my book. in the evening i went for a walk, down a a well known path and inexplicably took a small sidelane i have never taken before. Like many roads here it was a dusty (grey, someone would have said), stone lane (or what we would have called a gulley), with shabby / comfortable houses on the right side and a wall on the left. From the main street I could not see where it ended or what it ended in. As I walked in, I found a gate at the end of the gulley, leading to a quaint, tiny park, with a old stone __ and a lake crowded with swans and ducks. The lake was surrounded by trees and benches and the whole place was full of people feeding the birds, sitting on the benches, running, walking. A small boy stood at the edge of the water frowning hard at the birds. Maybe he was wondering why these swam instead of flying like normal birds. I wonder too. The sunligh drizzled down from the shaggy, unruly canopy atop. the lake smiled a gracious welcome to the people in soft undulating waves. The birds sang in the trees.
It was beautiful. Still. Peaceful. Like the calm at the edges of worlds, between the real and the surreal. And yet I didnt feel like stopping there, There was another creaky old gate to the right. Its burnished metal warmed by the afternoon sun. I went through it. I found another tiny park and two men practising karate, like they show miaggi san teaching daniel on the beach. The slow, graceful, balanced dance. And a tiny little girl, sitting solemn faced on a park bench next to a lady, perhaps her mother, in earnest, serious conversation.
And yet I didnt feel like stopping there, I walked on and found a opening in the hedge. Walking through it, a huge park. It was the Inverleith Park. Full of huge dogs, tall trees, acorns in the grass and families strolling silently in the dawning evening.
Beyond the park I found the Royal Botannical Gardens, which I had been looking for for so long. And it had just closed. I guess Serendipity has to stop somewhere ;)
Rebecca Returns
you never cease to amaze me! When I didnt tell you something, that happened when we were not even speaking to eachother, when we were strangers, for whatever reasons ... maybe it was too painful to recount, maybe there were others involved, maybe I was just looking for the right moment ... you spied, and dug, and cheated , investigated, till to find out something about that didnt concern you in any way and proceded to use it against me in such a way that you maimed me. for life. then you called me a hypocrite. Now you go on, dayt after day, with your polite, friendly emails and banter. acta for all the world as though nothing happned, and behind my back you continue to bith about me ... you dont find that hypocrisy. it never ceases to amaze me how people can have such different moral stds for themselves and for others
floating on wet winds
it was raining yesterday, in the evening, after work. it was dark. the stars were out. the rain was falling in sleets. i have never seen it rain so hard here. it reminded me of kolkata. rain wet streets. rain wet skies. rain wet winds carrying the smell of the soil and the flowers. the whole world around singing with the rains. i was on the water and the water was awash with the moonlight. there was a soft sound with every catch. everything else was quite. the whole world had stilled. this morning, as i went to work and as i left in the evening, the rain is still in the air. the wind blows wet. everything, everyone looks like painting by monet. all the sharp edges blurred. outlines melting. everyone, everyone melting into each other. i get home, make a coffee and the sound of the coffee in the percolator sounds warm and comforting. i sit by the window and drink my coffee and watch people on the streets coming home. the tires make a swishing sound on the wet roads, the same all over the world. and i feel like every rain drenched memory i made is connected tied together, become one in this one rain wet evening. I feel like i could reach out and touch the night in texas under the stars in the patio watching the rain, listening to her chatter non stop like a child just freed from school in the afternoon. I feel like i could reach out and touch the rainy morning in pune walking to college saving the journals, giggling, watching out for the puddles. I feel like i could reach out and touch the afternoons in kol - all heaped on the bed in south ave, listening to silly songs and laughing, when we were all still around, the whole gang. I feel like i could reach out and touch the rain in bristol, walking to the club, early in the morning, mists swirling on the river. matheron. dubai. syria. everywhere comes together and links up like a jigsaw puzzle and i feel like, maybe, i am making a life. i go out again, walking by the river, and she laughs up to me. singing. dancing. swelling. proud. happy.
in the evening
its evening.
everyone's gone home,
its dark in this alley.
theres noone around.
a stray bird whistles.
jetlagged from his trip back?
a heavy silver light leeks down from the moon.
ive been up since five and now its almost nine.
it was dark when i left home now its dark once more.
its the time of day when the silence sings,
when the sky looks like a painting,
all clear, cerullean, with misty, gauzy clouds, floating across in a lazy sweep.
as you pass houses, theres smells of dinner,
soft lights, sounds of voices.
im home.
its silent. as silent as tomb. and as peaceful.
it smells nice. jasmine, lavender, vanilla, myrrh
everything is tidy. perfect.
i 'cook'. get out clothes for tomorrow. put away my clothes. pack lunch.
have a bath. pray. eat
watch amelie for a while. and then to bed.
i have the window open.
i can hear the wind all night
if you listen long enough he opens up and tells you stories from where he was born, where he has been, who he touched, what he broke, all he swept away
if it rains i listen to the water. it sings ballads
about the people, the rocks, the trees, the forest
the sunlight filtering down through a leafy canopy
glinting on the a forest stream just where it bends
two lovers from the stone age
no long dead and perhaps, their souls many times recycled
the rock crumbled over the years to rubble, to sand, to silt
the rain sings of the trickledown of time
and how everything and nothing changes as it flows
everyone's gone home,
its dark in this alley.
theres noone around.
a stray bird whistles.
jetlagged from his trip back?
a heavy silver light leeks down from the moon.
ive been up since five and now its almost nine.
it was dark when i left home now its dark once more.
its the time of day when the silence sings,
when the sky looks like a painting,
all clear, cerullean, with misty, gauzy clouds, floating across in a lazy sweep.
as you pass houses, theres smells of dinner,
soft lights, sounds of voices.
im home.
its silent. as silent as tomb. and as peaceful.
it smells nice. jasmine, lavender, vanilla, myrrh
everything is tidy. perfect.
i 'cook'. get out clothes for tomorrow. put away my clothes. pack lunch.
have a bath. pray. eat
watch amelie for a while. and then to bed.
i have the window open.
i can hear the wind all night
if you listen long enough he opens up and tells you stories from where he was born, where he has been, who he touched, what he broke, all he swept away
if it rains i listen to the water. it sings ballads
about the people, the rocks, the trees, the forest
the sunlight filtering down through a leafy canopy
glinting on the a forest stream just where it bends
two lovers from the stone age
no long dead and perhaps, their souls many times recycled
the rock crumbled over the years to rubble, to sand, to silt
the rain sings of the trickledown of time
and how everything and nothing changes as it flows
in the evening
its evening.
everyone's gone home,
or to their houses.
im walking back to the apartment.
its dark in this alley.
theres noone else here.
a stray bird whistles.
jetlagged from his trip back?
a heavy silver light leeks down from the moon.
im tired.
ive been up since five and now its almost nine.
1 hr travelling. 2 at the gym. .5 getting ready. 9.5 at 'work'. 2 at class.
the best two of the day. ofcourse he always said you cant say you 'love' something when ur no good at it. he also said if ur not the best ur no good. he also said when i was the best in something, just once in my life, that the things must be not good enough so i should quit it ... so i dont really love anything
it was dark when i left home now its dark once more.
its the time of day when the silence sings,
when the sky looks like a painting,
all clear, cerullean, with misty, gauzy clouds, floating across in a lazy sweep.
as you pass houses, theres smells of dinner,
soft lights, sounds of voices.
i almost to feel a bit sad
then i imagine - what if someone was coming for dinner
a long evening. bad grammer, ignorance, abyssmal ordinariness, blissful uncaring
or worse, a flat-mate. messy rooms, dirty loo, loud tv
instead im home.
its silent. as silent as tomb. and as peaceful.
my diary rests by the bedside table
every room smells nice. jasmine, lavender, vanilla, myrrh
everything is tidy. everything is perfect.
i cook what i feel like eating
soak in the silence as long as want
watch amelie for a while. and then to bed.
i lie there thinking. about many things
i do the accounts for the day, the week, the year
wishes and wants agaisnt shoulds and musts,
days spent, inches covered, distance from destination, destination needs revisting
new goals to lust after, new dreams to crash, land, or crash land.
new ways to prove, as ever, everywhere you go he waits
dark, gloomy, persistant. failure, my best friend
counts the wounds, count the blood, count the strength remaining
where did i go wrong. why did i go wrong
was it in the stars or in me all the time
they were right? my fault was in my beginning
o fcuk. did i lock the f'g door? the windows? should i check once more? naw ...
bcz ive always been like this
and the mind wanders back to childhood
the earliest memories
i shudder. i smile. anyway,
and u trace back to the beginnings
why cant i ever get it? is it so hard
just concentrate. just dont dream when theres work to be done
just try to get along with them
just not to hate them so much
is it so hard?
to neither hate them, nor pity them, nor fear them ...
then what? to be one of them? is that what you want? no!
then i tell my self im going in circles and cdrift off to sleep still lost
somewhere in the dusty attics of my mind
what time do you get up? is everything packed? is there a bill ive forgotten
the balance last time i checked
is the coffee maker ready
did i forget to keep the sneakers by the bed
what time is it in india. will there be a war. ma might be up already.
i have the window open.
i can hear the wind all night
if you listen long enough he opens up and tells you stories from where he was born, where he has been, who he touched, what he broke, all he swept away
if it rains i listen to the water. it sings ballads
about the people, the rocks, the trees, the forest
the sunlight filtering down through a leafy canopy
glinting on the a forest stream just where it bends
two lovers from the stone age
no long dead and perhaps, their souls many times recycled
the rock crumbled over the years to rubble, to sand, to silt
the rain sings of the trickledown of time
and how everything and nothing changes as it flows
i wake up again at 4.35. In my sleep reach out for the phone.
no sms. she's still alive. im still alive.
not a day goes by i dont think of her. not thing i do that i can concentrate.
she's all i can thinki about. live, dammit.
i do it for u. u do it for me. live.
anyway. mustnt think - just move.
get the coffee. drag on the clothes in the dark. pull on the snakers and go
outside, its neon blue skies.
the world looks better in the dark. like people look bearable from a distance
i have not love the world,
nor the world me
yet let us part fair foes. i do believe
though i have found them not that there maybe
virtues that are merciful, nor weave snares for the failing
everyone's gone home,
or to their houses.
im walking back to the apartment.
its dark in this alley.
theres noone else here.
a stray bird whistles.
jetlagged from his trip back?
a heavy silver light leeks down from the moon.
im tired.
ive been up since five and now its almost nine.
1 hr travelling. 2 at the gym. .5 getting ready. 9.5 at 'work'. 2 at class.
the best two of the day. ofcourse he always said you cant say you 'love' something when ur no good at it. he also said if ur not the best ur no good. he also said when i was the best in something, just once in my life, that the things must be not good enough so i should quit it ... so i dont really love anything
it was dark when i left home now its dark once more.
its the time of day when the silence sings,
when the sky looks like a painting,
all clear, cerullean, with misty, gauzy clouds, floating across in a lazy sweep.
as you pass houses, theres smells of dinner,
soft lights, sounds of voices.
i almost to feel a bit sad
then i imagine - what if someone was coming for dinner
a long evening. bad grammer, ignorance, abyssmal ordinariness, blissful uncaring
or worse, a flat-mate. messy rooms, dirty loo, loud tv
instead im home.
its silent. as silent as tomb. and as peaceful.
my diary rests by the bedside table
every room smells nice. jasmine, lavender, vanilla, myrrh
everything is tidy. everything is perfect.
i cook what i feel like eating
soak in the silence as long as want
watch amelie for a while. and then to bed.
i lie there thinking. about many things
i do the accounts for the day, the week, the year
wishes and wants agaisnt shoulds and musts,
days spent, inches covered, distance from destination, destination needs revisting
new goals to lust after, new dreams to crash, land, or crash land.
new ways to prove, as ever, everywhere you go he waits
dark, gloomy, persistant. failure, my best friend
counts the wounds, count the blood, count the strength remaining
where did i go wrong. why did i go wrong
was it in the stars or in me all the time
they were right? my fault was in my beginning
o fcuk. did i lock the f'g door? the windows? should i check once more? naw ...
bcz ive always been like this
and the mind wanders back to childhood
the earliest memories
i shudder. i smile. anyway,
and u trace back to the beginnings
why cant i ever get it? is it so hard
just concentrate. just dont dream when theres work to be done
just try to get along with them
just not to hate them so much
is it so hard?
to neither hate them, nor pity them, nor fear them ...
then what? to be one of them? is that what you want? no!
then i tell my self im going in circles and cdrift off to sleep still lost
somewhere in the dusty attics of my mind
what time do you get up? is everything packed? is there a bill ive forgotten
the balance last time i checked
is the coffee maker ready
did i forget to keep the sneakers by the bed
what time is it in india. will there be a war. ma might be up already.
i have the window open.
i can hear the wind all night
if you listen long enough he opens up and tells you stories from where he was born, where he has been, who he touched, what he broke, all he swept away
if it rains i listen to the water. it sings ballads
about the people, the rocks, the trees, the forest
the sunlight filtering down through a leafy canopy
glinting on the a forest stream just where it bends
two lovers from the stone age
no long dead and perhaps, their souls many times recycled
the rock crumbled over the years to rubble, to sand, to silt
the rain sings of the trickledown of time
and how everything and nothing changes as it flows
i wake up again at 4.35. In my sleep reach out for the phone.
no sms. she's still alive. im still alive.
not a day goes by i dont think of her. not thing i do that i can concentrate.
she's all i can thinki about. live, dammit.
i do it for u. u do it for me. live.
anyway. mustnt think - just move.
get the coffee. drag on the clothes in the dark. pull on the snakers and go
outside, its neon blue skies.
the world looks better in the dark. like people look bearable from a distance
i have not love the world,
nor the world me
yet let us part fair foes. i do believe
though i have found them not that there maybe
virtues that are merciful, nor weave snares for the failing
how not to write a sad post ...
to day was barbie's birthday. i spoke to my friends on the telephone today. they had all gone to visit my gran. i spoke to my dad on the phone and really psyched him. i had class in the evening. i am going to to go home now and eat the leftover boiled veggies from yesterday. Then I will wake up again tomorrow at 5 and go to the gym. After that I will go to 'work'. Where I will 'work' till 7 pm (atleast) and then - repeat (except no class) till friday. then i will do my homework, clean the house, go to glasgow to row in an eight and go to bed and think about
(the rest is censored in the name of good cheer)
list of the day:
top five reasons to live another (censored in the name of good humoured cheerfulness) day ...
(the rest is censored in the name of good cheer)
list of the day:
top five reasons to live another (censored in the name of good humoured cheerfulness) day ...
dil hee to hai na sang-o-KHisht dard se bhar na aye kyo
dil hee to hai na sang-o-KHisht dard se bhar na aaye kyoN ?
royeNge ham hazaar baar, koee hameiN sataaye kyoN ?
dair naheeN, haram naheeN, dar naheeN, aastaaN naheeN
baiTHe haiN rehguzar pe ham, GHair hameiN uTHaaye kyoN ?
jab woh jamaal-e-dil_faroz, soorat-e-meher-e-neem_roz
aap hee ho nazzaara_soz, parde meiN muNh chupaaye kyoN ?
dashna-e-GHamza jaaN_sitaaN, naawak-e-naaz be_panaah
tera hee aks-e-ruKH sahee, saamne tere aaye kyoN ?
qaid-e-hayaat-o-band-e-GHam asl meiN dono ek haiN
maut se pehle aadmee GHam se nijaat paaye kyoN ?
husn aur uspe husn_zan rah gayee bulhawas ki sharm
apne pe 'eitmaad hai, GHair ko aazmaaye kyoN ?
waaN wo GHuroor-e-iz'z-o-naaz yaaN yeh hijaab-e-paas-e-waz'a
raah meiN ham mile kahaaN, bazm meiN wo bulaaye kyoN ?
haaN wo naheeN KHuda_parast, jaao wo be_wafa sahee
jisko ho deen-o-dil 'azeez, uskee galee meiN jaaye kyoN ?
'GHalib'-e-KHasta ke baGHair kaun se kaam band haiN ?
roiye zaar-zaar kya, keejiye haay-haay kyoN ?
royeNge ham hazaar baar, koee hameiN sataaye kyoN ?
dair naheeN, haram naheeN, dar naheeN, aastaaN naheeN
baiTHe haiN rehguzar pe ham, GHair hameiN uTHaaye kyoN ?
jab woh jamaal-e-dil_faroz, soorat-e-meher-e-neem_roz
aap hee ho nazzaara_soz, parde meiN muNh chupaaye kyoN ?
dashna-e-GHamza jaaN_sitaaN, naawak-e-naaz be_panaah
tera hee aks-e-ruKH sahee, saamne tere aaye kyoN ?
qaid-e-hayaat-o-band-e-GHam asl meiN dono ek haiN
maut se pehle aadmee GHam se nijaat paaye kyoN ?
husn aur uspe husn_zan rah gayee bulhawas ki sharm
apne pe 'eitmaad hai, GHair ko aazmaaye kyoN ?
waaN wo GHuroor-e-iz'z-o-naaz yaaN yeh hijaab-e-paas-e-waz'a
raah meiN ham mile kahaaN, bazm meiN wo bulaaye kyoN ?
haaN wo naheeN KHuda_parast, jaao wo be_wafa sahee
jisko ho deen-o-dil 'azeez, uskee galee meiN jaaye kyoN ?
'GHalib'-e-KHasta ke baGHair kaun se kaam band haiN ?
roiye zaar-zaar kya, keejiye haay-haay kyoN ?
khudkhushi
i have tried to not stand judgement on what people do or say or think (totally different things). I believe that we each move in a different orbits, in different reference frames. Each situation is unique. You CANT put yourself in someone's shoes, bcz he is standing in his shoes. Point is you dont know till you have actually been there and you werent. Anything might be right or wrong - it depends on a lot of things, which i believe, cant ever be exhaustively taken into account.
Anyway, who are we to cast the first stone? I dont think there's any amongst us who has never done wrong. And if you want to rate sins along a scale ... how do you judge whats more or less. It comes to the same thing again.
As usual, I digress. What I started out with saying was, I try not to judge. Instead, but I do try to visualise, to understand the logic of the situation, to figure out how and why people do the things they do. And after having watched 3 suicides - of which one was succesful, I could still never 'understand' it - really get into the skin the person ... or to put it very literally - I could never imagine not wanting to live anymore. A bit like those women you hear of who can get to the brink but never fall off the edge ... Ive had been there but could never cross the threshold of attachment. I have waded into the sea in the moonlight, but always stopped. Ive not cut deep enough ... never had the nerve to make the final cut
But suddenly that too fell into place. Now I understand. Its like playing a game. At the beginning, you know you are going to be bad at it, you expect it. So you laugh at your failure, your ineptitude and carry on trying. Slowly the laughter turns to seriousness, seriousness to irritation, irritation to frustration, frustration to embarresment and finally, embarresment to being beyond caring anymore. Somewhere I read the phrase, 'at what point does it snap - our tenuous hold on life'. At what point do we stop trying again and again to do something which we are just not being able to do. Where does the thin line between persistence and stupidity lie? When do we say, 'Enough' ...
Its not as scary as I thought it would be. Its like bumgee jumping. Till you get to the platform you feel confident you want tis. There, you're sure you dont. You just wanna run back. But if you just let go that second ... its awesome the rest of the way.
The wire that holds the cork
That keeps the anger in
Gives way
And suddenly it's day again.
You stretch the frozen Moments with your fear.
Finally I understand the feelings of the few.
Ashes and diamonds
Foe and friend
We were all equal in the end.
Anyway, who are we to cast the first stone? I dont think there's any amongst us who has never done wrong. And if you want to rate sins along a scale ... how do you judge whats more or less. It comes to the same thing again.
As usual, I digress. What I started out with saying was, I try not to judge. Instead, but I do try to visualise, to understand the logic of the situation, to figure out how and why people do the things they do. And after having watched 3 suicides - of which one was succesful, I could still never 'understand' it - really get into the skin the person ... or to put it very literally - I could never imagine not wanting to live anymore. A bit like those women you hear of who can get to the brink but never fall off the edge ... Ive had been there but could never cross the threshold of attachment. I have waded into the sea in the moonlight, but always stopped. Ive not cut deep enough ... never had the nerve to make the final cut
But suddenly that too fell into place. Now I understand. Its like playing a game. At the beginning, you know you are going to be bad at it, you expect it. So you laugh at your failure, your ineptitude and carry on trying. Slowly the laughter turns to seriousness, seriousness to irritation, irritation to frustration, frustration to embarresment and finally, embarresment to being beyond caring anymore. Somewhere I read the phrase, 'at what point does it snap - our tenuous hold on life'. At what point do we stop trying again and again to do something which we are just not being able to do. Where does the thin line between persistence and stupidity lie? When do we say, 'Enough' ...
Its not as scary as I thought it would be. Its like bumgee jumping. Till you get to the platform you feel confident you want tis. There, you're sure you dont. You just wanna run back. But if you just let go that second ... its awesome the rest of the way.
The wire that holds the cork
That keeps the anger in
Gives way
And suddenly it's day again.
You stretch the frozen Moments with your fear.
Finally I understand the feelings of the few.
Ashes and diamonds
Foe and friend
We were all equal in the end.
tired
skipped lunch again. i dont remember when my finances were last this bad. i guess i could find ways around it, but i just dont have the energy left. yeah - like with all this happening in my life, i even care ...
I went to the supermarket to buy envelopes and as I passed the pharmacy I thought, I wish there were some pills to stop you crying. You have pills that stop your nose fwatering, right? They dont 'fix' the ocold, but atleast you are presentable. un truc comme ca.
Im so tired (I have tiredness - you should try to think in the language you are learning). I am tired of people being such big *%$'s - and Im tired of still feeling sorry for them. Im tired of being torn between pity and repulsion, hatred and compassion. Im tired of her holding her death over my head like a hanging sword. Im tired of my longing to go back - and knowing that you can never go back to yesterday. Im tired of wanting my childhood - of not being able to move on. Im tired of his indifference, his caprice, his violent swings. Im tired of their telling me I shouldnt have come along. Im tired of her lies. Im tired of being torn between love, hatred, tenderness and guilt. Im tired of saying Im sorry - for things I didnt have any control over.
Im tired of being there for people when no one has ever been there for me. No - thats a lie. Im tired of feeling like a fool cz I try to always be there for people, when no one is there for me. But given a choice - I know Id do it anyway. Like the song, "dushmano o ke teer khaa ke dost o ke shaher mein, hum ne kis kis ko pukaara, ye kahaani, phir sahi. Dil ke lut ne ka sabab poochho na sabke saamne. Naam aaye ga tera bhi, ye kahaani phir sahi"
I want her to live. Is that so selfish? I know it is. but still I want it. I can work. I can sleep. I can smile. I can forget what a pathetic joke life is, I can forget everything and be happy ... ... knowing somewhere she is alive.
I went to the supermarket to buy envelopes and as I passed the pharmacy I thought, I wish there were some pills to stop you crying. You have pills that stop your nose fwatering, right? They dont 'fix' the ocold, but atleast you are presentable. un truc comme ca.
Im so tired (I have tiredness - you should try to think in the language you are learning). I am tired of people being such big *%$'s - and Im tired of still feeling sorry for them. Im tired of being torn between pity and repulsion, hatred and compassion. Im tired of her holding her death over my head like a hanging sword. Im tired of my longing to go back - and knowing that you can never go back to yesterday. Im tired of wanting my childhood - of not being able to move on. Im tired of his indifference, his caprice, his violent swings. Im tired of their telling me I shouldnt have come along. Im tired of her lies. Im tired of being torn between love, hatred, tenderness and guilt. Im tired of saying Im sorry - for things I didnt have any control over.
Im tired of being there for people when no one has ever been there for me. No - thats a lie. Im tired of feeling like a fool cz I try to always be there for people, when no one is there for me. But given a choice - I know Id do it anyway. Like the song, "dushmano o ke teer khaa ke dost o ke shaher mein, hum ne kis kis ko pukaara, ye kahaani, phir sahi. Dil ke lut ne ka sabab poochho na sabke saamne. Naam aaye ga tera bhi, ye kahaani phir sahi"
I want her to live. Is that so selfish? I know it is. but still I want it. I can work. I can sleep. I can smile. I can forget what a pathetic joke life is, I can forget everything and be happy ... ... knowing somewhere she is alive.
Life
i didnt really expect life to be beautiful. but i never thought it would be so ugly. i didnt expect everyone i meet will be a good person. but i never thought i will meet such chiens. :) somewhere along the line i transitioned from desperately looking for a friend. someone who cares. someone to be friends with, literally ... to just desperately wanting to be left alone. it was your favourite song, wasnt it? stop poking me. stop obsessing. get a life. i hate you. with all my heart and sould.
The Red Maple Leaf
i have a red, maple leaf
in my hand ...
it was cold
the wind was blowing
u were standing
leaning hard, against ur car
u'd driven madly, without destinations
till the voices in your head had stopped
then pulled up at this lonely spot
resplendant with the blush of fall
silent. deserted
where even the crickets called
and then came the tears
like a hurricane
shivering, trembling, shaking, tearing apart
not gentle rain. but dangerous storm
the world went went black
the world went blank
time lost meaning
life lost meaning
who were were
u dont know anymore
everything was over
she was gone
that was the moment, this maple leaf fell
somewhere else in the universe ...
in my hand ...
it was cold
the wind was blowing
u were standing
leaning hard, against ur car
u'd driven madly, without destinations
till the voices in your head had stopped
then pulled up at this lonely spot
resplendant with the blush of fall
silent. deserted
where even the crickets called
and then came the tears
like a hurricane
shivering, trembling, shaking, tearing apart
not gentle rain. but dangerous storm
the world went went black
the world went blank
time lost meaning
life lost meaning
who were were
u dont know anymore
everything was over
she was gone
that was the moment, this maple leaf fell
somewhere else in the universe ...
The brown maple leaf
i have a dry, brown maple leaf
in my hand ...
she was growing older
her eyes weaker
it was cold
the wind was blowing
she stood alone in her garden
leaning hard, against the fence
this was the only free hour she had
early before they all awoke
she'd worked for years this way until
she'd forgotten how hard it once was, until it was routine
she cooked she cleaned and there were all those kids
shopping, mending, clothes, homework, cuts, bruises, fevers, fights
and yesterday she overheard
a friend asked her eldest what whats ur mum
and he said ...
nothing.
she thought about it now as the sun woke up
unnoticed, a little tear slipped out
she thought of the work she'd done before
when she'd been a girl, a woman, a human ... not just mom
suddenly there was a sound behind
one of them woke up and called ....
a desperation in the sound ... mom ... like the end of the world
and she ran in ... all thoughts forgotten
that was the moment, this maple leaf fell
somewhere else in the universe ...
in my hand ...
she was growing older
her eyes weaker
it was cold
the wind was blowing
she stood alone in her garden
leaning hard, against the fence
this was the only free hour she had
early before they all awoke
she'd worked for years this way until
she'd forgotten how hard it once was, until it was routine
she cooked she cleaned and there were all those kids
shopping, mending, clothes, homework, cuts, bruises, fevers, fights
and yesterday she overheard
a friend asked her eldest what whats ur mum
and he said ...
nothing.
she thought about it now as the sun woke up
unnoticed, a little tear slipped out
she thought of the work she'd done before
when she'd been a girl, a woman, a human ... not just mom
suddenly there was a sound behind
one of them woke up and called ....
a desperation in the sound ... mom ... like the end of the world
and she ran in ... all thoughts forgotten
that was the moment, this maple leaf fell
somewhere else in the universe ...
Tu
chaha tha bas saath, usne
tere jaise saathi diye
ab chahta hun bas sannata
ki aur koi na mile
din raat rota rehta hai
ki maine tujhe kya kiya
kaash tujhe kahi se
ek aina mile
tere jaise saathi diye
ab chahta hun bas sannata
ki aur koi na mile
din raat rota rehta hai
ki maine tujhe kya kiya
kaash tujhe kahi se
ek aina mile