Background Track: thats not me by the Beach Boys, from Pet Sounds.
Ghost from the past: had a phonecall from an old friend. Where are you calling from? A booth in Delhi. Someone I have written about often. He used to threaten to flush me down the toilet when he was 11 and I was 1 ... that old.
We drift in and out of touch, all of us. Bonds so strong, so magical, yet we stretch and pull them. Some stretch and then pull us back again. Some snap and break. Maybe it really does depend on the quality of the connection, because I dont even notice the ones that snap. Its much harder for me to make casual friendships than the average guy, yet much easier to make those immense, meaningful friendships where you really love, than the average guy. As a corollary, its hard to keep constantly in touch with all of even my inner circle of friends. I come and go (like the kkk KC ... another blast from the past). Some accept it and let me. Some dont and make me. Some just walk away.
Yet, inspite of it all, in some ways theres never anyone for anyone, really, is there? When you most want to talk, you wont find a listener. What you most want to share, noone will understand. When ur most hurt, noone will care. So why have friends? The JAP's were right: we all need somebody to love.
I really want to do a post on some new blogs I have discovered: they are really great. Maybe next week. For now, the guru of verse is back & I really liked this post from UC: the youngest human being I know & also, these:
Aparna, Nightfly, Chris & STARK
This last week my 'self' has been acting really strange. I woke up late(er). Broke my diet several times. Shopped for non-essentials twice and today have been horsing around the office all day cracking jokes with people I'd shiver in shoes to say hello to, usually. I daydream all day and stare into space. My output censor board is napping. My discipline enforcer is on holiday. I think my entire admin department is on strike. As a proper Scorpio I dutifully oscillate between all extremes, never touching the middles, but I havent seen this one in ages ... I smell something coming, its in the wind.
This morning as I left home for my morning run, 4:45 am it was - and dark as the night, I heard a eerie wail from down the street. A man and a woman, who looked like they hadnt been home yet, were having quite a show down. Impressive volume with the lady's voice. Considered saying excuse me, we need marshalls at our head races next w/e - would you consider to helping out?
Big sale at the Virgin! Bought a load of music, that I definitely knew I didnt need as soon as the guy at the counter told me the total ... but the Essential Ozzy is quite nice, and so is Damien Rice.
A interesting story on Calcutta from rediff - ignore his (mis)spelling. More and more everyday I am forced to realise, everyone has a personal copy of this city. Mine is so different from yours, but whichever way it is, once you've lived in it, it lives in you forever.
Interesting: How the brain sleeps (system processes on standby)
This seemed like the hottest topic in blogosphere yesterday and this what some celebs think: Why Paheli was selected to represent India in the Oscars: A Paheli. the word 'paheli' means riddle in 'indian'. Heated argument on Patrix's blog, I disagreed on a certain commenter's viewpoint but in the end could not muster up the energy to argue it. Typically. Why should China be forced to send Shaolin vs Ninja when it has exquisite movies like Spring time in a small town, just because it smells more like an american chinese takeaway, or conforms more to an avg american's image of what China should look like in film?
Interesting post by Kaps: Caught red handed
In other news, we are going mercurial, and maybe MahaRam? Whassat? Nevermind.
Originally posted at Prerona
Last night's TV: Dylan on BBC
BBC is celebrating a dylan season and this was a part of it:Arena. No Direction Home
For me Dylan has always been 'controversial', meaning I could never make up my mind about him. So many of the songs I like, when I trace them back, turn out to be written by him. Yet, I dont like them that much when I hear him play them.
Anyway, this show was more abt him than his music (once more bringing us back to the same point ... Immortality ... they are more interested in you than your Art, the *&%@'s), but the highlight, for me was when they showed this concert where he comes onstage and tries to sing like a rolling stone with electric, with really sad results, and gets quite badly booed by the audience. After the show, when asked about it he says "actually, i look at booing in perspective. it is possible to kill with too much kindness".
Other interesting quotes: When asked if he mainly thought of himself as a musician or a poet he reacts 'I like to think of myself as a song and dance man'. Or, this man in the audience, with a slightly defensive air, asks him 'i know u hate labels, but for us, definitely past 30 people, how would u label urself / music' and he says 'i think i would label myself as definitely below 30' and everyone laughs. Made me feel quite 'grownup' ... not sure if in a nice way!
Incidentally expert advice from Runners World on staying motivated ... choose the cutest running partner you can find :@)
Was talking about cliches abt countries in class and I thought, the whole world, the whole of society, is so different and we look at one little part of it and just blindly assume thats the all of it: just like the blind men and elephant. Actually, this is reference/ reaction to something entirely different, so ignore me.
Flag football this friday!!! Woke up listening to the old Lobo song: "who do u tell if u dont have a friend? these are the things that bother me. not a lot of thing across some sea" and the new pictures from Iraq. Be careful what you wish for, it might come true ... and never again say you wish you cried easy. i do.
Originally Posted on Prerona
For me Dylan has always been 'controversial', meaning I could never make up my mind about him. So many of the songs I like, when I trace them back, turn out to be written by him. Yet, I dont like them that much when I hear him play them.
Anyway, this show was more abt him than his music (once more bringing us back to the same point ... Immortality ... they are more interested in you than your Art, the *&%@'s), but the highlight, for me was when they showed this concert where he comes onstage and tries to sing like a rolling stone with electric, with really sad results, and gets quite badly booed by the audience. After the show, when asked about it he says "actually, i look at booing in perspective. it is possible to kill with too much kindness".
Other interesting quotes: When asked if he mainly thought of himself as a musician or a poet he reacts 'I like to think of myself as a song and dance man'. Or, this man in the audience, with a slightly defensive air, asks him 'i know u hate labels, but for us, definitely past 30 people, how would u label urself / music' and he says 'i think i would label myself as definitely below 30' and everyone laughs. Made me feel quite 'grownup' ... not sure if in a nice way!
Incidentally expert advice from Runners World on staying motivated ... choose the cutest running partner you can find :@)
Was talking about cliches abt countries in class and I thought, the whole world, the whole of society, is so different and we look at one little part of it and just blindly assume thats the all of it: just like the blind men and elephant. Actually, this is reference/ reaction to something entirely different, so ignore me.
Flag football this friday!!! Woke up listening to the old Lobo song: "who do u tell if u dont have a friend? these are the things that bother me. not a lot of thing across some sea" and the new pictures from Iraq. Be careful what you wish for, it might come true ... and never again say you wish you cried easy. i do.
Originally Posted on Prerona
55 Words (Disclaimer: Tagged)
Dying to be free
She looked down at her family and smiled. Childlike, gathered around the sofa, by the window. Some cried. Some stared. Some kept repeating: "i don't understand".
Only the body on the sofa stared straight up at her. in an unblinking, toneless gaze. like a tuneless song. she felt sad, guilty, but most of all: liberated.
Was tagged by Aparna. Will need to put a little thought into who I tag this time round. Since this was my second go, I really wanted to do something 'happy', but found it very hard. Will try again after a bit. These days my online time is really restricted.
Only the body on the sofa stared straight up at her. in an unblinking, toneless gaze. like a tuneless song. she felt sad, guilty, but most of all: liberated.
Was tagged by Aparna. Will need to put a little thought into who I tag this time round. Since this was my second go, I really wanted to do something 'happy', but found it very hard. Will try again after a bit. These days my online time is really restricted.
Was tagged into this by Parna, so here goes, in my bungling (55) words:
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
the weekend that was:
My horoscope says for today: Scorpio, ACCESS EVERYTHING YOU have ever learnt and put it all into action, then see where you want to go with more clarity than you have ever had before. Bah! Its always saying stupid things like that which could mean the world or nothing!
This sounded so nice in my head ... then between thought and paper, something was lost.
Been feeling nostalgic and sentimental: like I can smell a change on its way, borne upon the wind.
Nice weekend. Studied. Read. Cooked. Ate. Sat in the sun, with some cherised old memories, having taken them out to air, before I cleaned, polished and put them away again, for the winter, carefully packed with mothballs and dried flowers. Watched "Touching the Void", "Thin Red Line","Prelude to a kiss" and was enchanted by "Stand by Me". Its based on a Stephen King book called "The Body". Not his usual genre. A small story about 4 twelve year old boys who set off to find a dead body in the woods (of course the boy i liked the best would have to die, eventually. and for good measure, the actor as well ... River Phoenix). Called home: talked to Mom, Dad & my baby sister.
late on sunday afternoon, called a friend and asked her to meet me on Princes street for some 'shopping'. good lure. she loves it. i hate it. she knows. lured her into starbucks for some lazy gossip. we didnt shop ...
Originally posted @ Prerona
This sounded so nice in my head ... then between thought and paper, something was lost.
Been feeling nostalgic and sentimental: like I can smell a change on its way, borne upon the wind.
Nice weekend. Studied. Read. Cooked. Ate. Sat in the sun, with some cherised old memories, having taken them out to air, before I cleaned, polished and put them away again, for the winter, carefully packed with mothballs and dried flowers. Watched "Touching the Void", "Thin Red Line","Prelude to a kiss" and was enchanted by "Stand by Me". Its based on a Stephen King book called "The Body". Not his usual genre. A small story about 4 twelve year old boys who set off to find a dead body in the woods (of course the boy i liked the best would have to die, eventually. and for good measure, the actor as well ... River Phoenix). Called home: talked to Mom, Dad & my baby sister.
late on sunday afternoon, called a friend and asked her to meet me on Princes street for some 'shopping'. good lure. she loves it. i hate it. she knows. lured her into starbucks for some lazy gossip. we didnt shop ...
Originally posted @ Prerona
At Last
atlast i know i'll never find you
atlast, i know i'll never find you
now i know i'll never find you
now i know, we'll die alone.
in a lonely, crowded cafeteria
along some dusty path
u'll look into the distance and think of me
and wonder how life would have been
if u had managed to find me
would i have rescued you?
and late at night,
dancing with ghosts
to music that feels wet with tears
i'll sway in the dark
and glance at the moon
and think of the phantom i used to look for
and wonder if i'd been wrong?
this was just an idea ... if you want to take it and make it into something haf decent, pls feel free
atlast, i know i'll never find you
now i know i'll never find you
now i know, we'll die alone.
in a lonely, crowded cafeteria
along some dusty path
u'll look into the distance and think of me
and wonder how life would have been
if u had managed to find me
would i have rescued you?
and late at night,
dancing with ghosts
to music that feels wet with tears
i'll sway in the dark
and glance at the moon
and think of the phantom i used to look for
and wonder if i'd been wrong?
this was just an idea ... if you want to take it and make it into something haf decent, pls feel free
For Love
once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost
Coming Home
she was almost thirty. not pretty, but at times, she looked sweet when she smiled. black hair. she sat alone at the corner table of a cafeteria, a cup of coffee and a copy of "tender is the night" on the table. this was her first time. it was almost like a blind date, except that it felt different because they had been exchanging letters for so long. he, or his letters, had breezed into her life like a blast of fresh air. breaking the endless tedium her days had fallen into. relieving the underlines of dread her nights had aquired.
she was nervous. she fidgeted with the end of her hair. then remembering, put her hands back on her lap again. would he still like her as much in the flesh? would she love him as much in real life?
the door opened and he walked in. it must be him. he was just that height. red shoes. black hair.
he spotted her in her corner. their eyes met and they started laughing. i should've known it would be you, he said.
she was nervous. she fidgeted with the end of her hair. then remembering, put her hands back on her lap again. would he still like her as much in the flesh? would she love him as much in real life?
the door opened and he walked in. it must be him. he was just that height. red shoes. black hair.
he spotted her in her corner. their eyes met and they started laughing. i should've known it would be you, he said.
Ships in the Night: My friends and other strangers
Thinking about the 10K. Feel like it but it depends on if I can get some more people to come along.
As I walked home yesterday, late because the last meeting overran, I passed by my favourite stretch on the way home: the bit where I turn off princes street and walk by the small opening into "the world of rose street". I always like to think of it that way. It seems like so much is always happening there, anytime day or night.
Tonight there was someone singing floyd at the top of his voice, playing along a little badly on the guitar. There was something in his tone that just dragged out the reluctant grin. I walked past, but then walked back. Gave him a full pound. He grinned cheekily and sang 'just another beautiful girl'.
It was raining as I reached the bus stop. There was a man in glasses with a big black box and a massive canvas bag full of records. He was rolling a ciggie, in a way that always fascinates me. We talked about the weather. He was a DJ, on his way to work. He was late for work. Then we gave up waiting and ran to the next bus stop. It was so late, but there was no bus in sight. Some days I love Lothian. Then we talked abt Led Zep and Deep Purple. It was still raining. In front of the playhouse. All around there were people dressed up and going out. Dressed down and coming home from work. Dressed anyhow and just hanging out. A youth in a black jacket, immaculately stoned, smiled at us and said 'he's something else man'. Then he said something which no one caught and lovingly covered the black box with his jacket, to save it from the rain. Just then, the bus came.
Just another evening. Dad had come over. We were pub-hopping on Rose Street. We walked into a small one and sat down. There was a man sitting alone in a corner with a drink. He had tattoo's all over. He smiled at us and helped us shout aur drinks over to the lady at the bar. What do want? Surprise me: something bitter, maybe? not sweet or orangey. We talked for a while like that: The three of us shouting at each other over the music and across the empty chairs between us. Then he asked if he could come and sit at our table. He and my Dad told tales about the crazy places they had been to while I "really!'d" them on my cues. He was a writer. His first book was on its way out. He recommended a nice mexican joint for dinner next door. We smiled thank you's, but we didnt go there.
There's a nice lazy feeling that you get sometimes. Like you're not going anymore, like you dont need to be going anywhere, like time and place dont matter. Like nothing matters for a while: destinations, ambitions, the constant fight to be ur best possible self ever.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/ships-in-night-my-friends-and-other.html
As I walked home yesterday, late because the last meeting overran, I passed by my favourite stretch on the way home: the bit where I turn off princes street and walk by the small opening into "the world of rose street". I always like to think of it that way. It seems like so much is always happening there, anytime day or night.
Tonight there was someone singing floyd at the top of his voice, playing along a little badly on the guitar. There was something in his tone that just dragged out the reluctant grin. I walked past, but then walked back. Gave him a full pound. He grinned cheekily and sang 'just another beautiful girl'.
It was raining as I reached the bus stop. There was a man in glasses with a big black box and a massive canvas bag full of records. He was rolling a ciggie, in a way that always fascinates me. We talked about the weather. He was a DJ, on his way to work. He was late for work. Then we gave up waiting and ran to the next bus stop. It was so late, but there was no bus in sight. Some days I love Lothian. Then we talked abt Led Zep and Deep Purple. It was still raining. In front of the playhouse. All around there were people dressed up and going out. Dressed down and coming home from work. Dressed anyhow and just hanging out. A youth in a black jacket, immaculately stoned, smiled at us and said 'he's something else man'. Then he said something which no one caught and lovingly covered the black box with his jacket, to save it from the rain. Just then, the bus came.
Just another evening. Dad had come over. We were pub-hopping on Rose Street. We walked into a small one and sat down. There was a man sitting alone in a corner with a drink. He had tattoo's all over. He smiled at us and helped us shout aur drinks over to the lady at the bar. What do want? Surprise me: something bitter, maybe? not sweet or orangey. We talked for a while like that: The three of us shouting at each other over the music and across the empty chairs between us. Then he asked if he could come and sit at our table. He and my Dad told tales about the crazy places they had been to while I "really!'d" them on my cues. He was a writer. His first book was on its way out. He recommended a nice mexican joint for dinner next door. We smiled thank you's, but we didnt go there.
There's a nice lazy feeling that you get sometimes. Like you're not going anymore, like you dont need to be going anywhere, like time and place dont matter. Like nothing matters for a while: destinations, ambitions, the constant fight to be ur best possible self ever.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/ships-in-night-my-friends-and-other.html
Lullaby IV
pile of dead babies on the floor
mama dont cry anymore
pile of dead babies by the door
mama, pls dont go
blood of dead babies all around
daddy pls come home
blood of dead babies smelling so foul
daddy pls let it go
crying, wailing, bloody in my lap
an unborn little one crying non stop
blood and tears blend with phlegm
little brother come back once more
pile of dead baies on my corpse
my little one, all is lost
mama dont cry anymore
pile of dead babies by the door
mama, pls dont go
blood of dead babies all around
daddy pls come home
blood of dead babies smelling so foul
daddy pls let it go
crying, wailing, bloody in my lap
an unborn little one crying non stop
blood and tears blend with phlegm
little brother come back once more
pile of dead baies on my corpse
my little one, all is lost
The Birth and Youth of Bitterness
the moment
in which u gather
the courage to reach out
no one s there
the pain, is at times still
like a pond, of rotting, smelling, putrid water
at times it quivers, burns, dances and overwhelmes
sometimes i cant bear it
not another minute
this unbearableness
this knowledge
this burden
this pressure
to hold it all in
to know i have to spare them
to be nice
to every hand, with knives still dripping blood
to remember, they have no clue
what they are doing, how it hurts
the burning desire
for the freedom
of once ... just once, just letting it rip
letting go
the burden
of consoling u
for ur sorrow
in ur gentle, careful nurture
of my seed
from sapling, to bonsai, to cruelly, bitter poison weed
in which u gather
the courage to reach out
no one s there
the pain, is at times still
like a pond, of rotting, smelling, putrid water
at times it quivers, burns, dances and overwhelmes
sometimes i cant bear it
not another minute
this unbearableness
this knowledge
this burden
this pressure
to hold it all in
to know i have to spare them
to be nice
to every hand, with knives still dripping blood
to remember, they have no clue
what they are doing, how it hurts
the burning desire
for the freedom
of once ... just once, just letting it rip
letting go
the burden
of consoling u
for ur sorrow
in ur gentle, careful nurture
of my seed
from sapling, to bonsai, to cruelly, bitter poison weed
Rainbows
a little bird is chirping on a tree
i feel like, its singing to me
saw rainbow on my way to work
looked like a fairy world
somedays u feel like running away
take off on a holiday
the rain slick grounds seem to wink
everything conspires to make u think
sometimes laughing like a gurgling brook
sometimes smile like a shining secret light
sometimes lost
sometimes sad
feeling restless
along the way
like reading a story
and u want to know the end
such a pretty world
such a merry world
i feel like, its singing to me
saw rainbow on my way to work
looked like a fairy world
somedays u feel like running away
take off on a holiday
the rain slick grounds seem to wink
everything conspires to make u think
sometimes laughing like a gurgling brook
sometimes smile like a shining secret light
sometimes lost
sometimes sad
feeling restless
along the way
like reading a story
and u want to know the end
such a pretty world
such a merry world
Black
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
Friday Blues: Indigo Skies
A snug kitchen, coloured in dark reds and cream. A square table, at which, sat a young-ish girl, doing her homework; or so I assumed. At the oven, a lady, with a dark blue apron around her waist and tagging her, as no other word would would describe it, a little boy. From the distance and from the look on his face, a little boy in 'question-mode'.
Two houses down, a cool, elegant sitting room. In the corner, a dark blue sofa. In another, a piano with the top lifted. An elegantly dressed white haired lady, book open on her lap, leaning over to look at something that was being shown to her by a white haired man who sat on the carpet near her feet. He wore red shorts.
I like watching people: doing things, relating to each other, feeling feelings, living lives, being real. Throwing tantrums, losing tempers, letting go, giving in, failing, succeeding, laughing at little attempts: to soar, or sometimes, just float. Maybe even shadows are images; ghosts, people; solitude, company; silence, meaningful; failure, an endeavour; zero, a number and a colour black.
The week that flew before I had noticed, or slid by cz it was very wet, with a major storm today. I've been thinking of a lot of things, but thats for another time.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
Two houses down, a cool, elegant sitting room. In the corner, a dark blue sofa. In another, a piano with the top lifted. An elegantly dressed white haired lady, book open on her lap, leaning over to look at something that was being shown to her by a white haired man who sat on the carpet near her feet. He wore red shorts.
I like watching people: doing things, relating to each other, feeling feelings, living lives, being real. Throwing tantrums, losing tempers, letting go, giving in, failing, succeeding, laughing at little attempts: to soar, or sometimes, just float. Maybe even shadows are images; ghosts, people; solitude, company; silence, meaningful; failure, an endeavour; zero, a number and a colour black.
The week that flew before I had noticed, or slid by cz it was very wet, with a major storm today. I've been thinking of a lot of things, but thats for another time.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
Gone
i grew up
like a house of cards
tall, hollow, fragile
u werethe base below me
i grew up like poison weed
nourished by the wind
and the tear of the night, the morning dew
u were the soil below me
the flood which took away the soil
The winds which flew with the base
Left me whole
but adrift
like a house of cards
tall, hollow, fragile
u werethe base below me
i grew up like poison weed
nourished by the wind
and the tear of the night, the morning dew
u were the soil below me
the flood which took away the soil
The winds which flew with the base
Left me whole
but adrift
old-age wasteland
the rolls on
unrelieved
no flowers grow here
no life lives here
once the sun shone,
now she has dried up.
once the rain fell,
now he is dead.
smoke rises from the ground.
the sky rains fire down.
every face is unfound
every friend turns around
a melted corpse of decaying meat
a fading, pulsing, crying beat
reach out a hand
fingers touch a rotting mass
and the corpse will throw u to the ground
grinning skeletons wil dance around
mad ritual dances
inverted romances
crazy shadows in ur brain
stupid cut, bled, ribboned & dried
in the ghost of the long dead sun
alone and on the run
love: a lie
faith: a trick
hope: a joke
dreams: satire
i'll be there, always.
i'll never do anything that hurts, ever.
not empty words,
the demon's tricks, in reverse.
dirty verse
hidden barbs
ridicules
and pointed words
crazily grinning
spears shining
the demon dances
over my defeated dream.
unrelieved
no flowers grow here
no life lives here
once the sun shone,
now she has dried up.
once the rain fell,
now he is dead.
smoke rises from the ground.
the sky rains fire down.
every face is unfound
every friend turns around
a melted corpse of decaying meat
a fading, pulsing, crying beat
reach out a hand
fingers touch a rotting mass
and the corpse will throw u to the ground
grinning skeletons wil dance around
mad ritual dances
inverted romances
crazy shadows in ur brain
stupid cut, bled, ribboned & dried
in the ghost of the long dead sun
alone and on the run
love: a lie
faith: a trick
hope: a joke
dreams: satire
i'll be there, always.
i'll never do anything that hurts, ever.
not empty words,
the demon's tricks, in reverse.
dirty verse
hidden barbs
ridicules
and pointed words
crazily grinning
spears shining
the demon dances
over my defeated dream.
Glimmerman
somewhere in ur murky depths
lies a shadow i once fell in love with
somewhere in ur abuses
theres a voice that i once loved
somewhere behind ur eyes that glow with hate
theres a look i had once dreamed abt
the one i loved
or wanted to
gentle quivering amazing
awesome, tall, shining
glimmering
vanishing
lies a shadow i once fell in love with
somewhere in ur abuses
theres a voice that i once loved
somewhere behind ur eyes that glow with hate
theres a look i had once dreamed abt
the one i loved
or wanted to
gentle quivering amazing
awesome, tall, shining
glimmering
vanishing
for the living
theres much to be said yet
and much to be done
much to be mended
lot to be won
then why do you say, again and again
theres nothing left to live for
everyday, every breath,
every morning, every star
the sun the moon the stars
birdsong, rain fall, cool winds, hot sun
flowers, smells, smiles
and more than all that friends and lovers
so much left to live for
dont throw urself away
dont throw ur life away
how do i reach you?
how can I talk to you?
how penetrate through
ur walls
u lie on my doorstep
in ur drug induced coma
ur smoking ur life away
ur hallucinating in purple
how do i reach you
how pull u back
i wish i could tell u
theres still so much to live for
they r not worth it
there's so many orphans
u can pull urself out of their muck
run away my caterpillar
fly away butterfly
spread ur mangled, tiny wings
fly away without a trace
dissapear in ur purple haze
and much to be done
much to be mended
lot to be won
then why do you say, again and again
theres nothing left to live for
everyday, every breath,
every morning, every star
the sun the moon the stars
birdsong, rain fall, cool winds, hot sun
flowers, smells, smiles
and more than all that friends and lovers
so much left to live for
dont throw urself away
dont throw ur life away
how do i reach you?
how can I talk to you?
how penetrate through
ur walls
u lie on my doorstep
in ur drug induced coma
ur smoking ur life away
ur hallucinating in purple
how do i reach you
how pull u back
i wish i could tell u
theres still so much to live for
they r not worth it
there's so many orphans
u can pull urself out of their muck
run away my caterpillar
fly away butterfly
spread ur mangled, tiny wings
fly away without a trace
dissapear in ur purple haze
Like Repels
He was bored. It was his study hour. His father had locked him in the library, till he could say that he had finished his homework. He stared out of the window for a while, but soon grew bored with that. He stared around at the high walls covered with books, making the room look like it was dressed in brown and maroon leather, and it depressed him all the more. Giving up, he crashed himself sulkily into the chair at his appointed desk, and wondered what he could do to entertain himself, without incurring his fathers wrath any more than he already had. At one corner of the desk he found two magnets. The magnets looked big and powerful and important. first he played with the magnets and a lot of little pins lying around, making each magnet pull pins and then peeling the pins off. soon he was bored with that. then he brought the two magnets together. they kept pushing eachother apart. first this one then that. first this way then that. yet when he pushed them together he got a funny wobbly connecting feeling between them run through to his hands. this was fun. he kept pushing them together but he couldnt make them meet. first he was challenged and intrigued by the problem. after a while he got irritated and angry at its sullen and continuous impetinence in refusing to be resolved. Finally he got fed up with the whole thing and threw both the magnets away. They hit the corner of the desk and feel to the floor broken.
The Child
This morning i met a child. he tugged at my skirt and drew my attention. paradoxically, shy and commanding at the same time. i was touched. i was moved. he was so sweet, almost ephemereal. i bent down to his level, to smile and say hello. the next thing i knew he'd shot up to the sky. towering. a hero. six feet (1) tall. before i had time to be surprised i was struck by awe. he was so beautiful. so different. so familiar. was he a distilled reflection of all the best parts of myself? or an angel from the above?. then before my eyes he changed again and became a monster. dark clouds. ugly rotten insides. putrid smelling dwarfed thoughts. ugly. petty. underdeveloped thoughts. collapsed reason. mayhem. madness. blindness. who was he? was he so different. so familiar. was he a distilled reflection of all the best parts of myself? or an angel from the dark?
The Bogeyman
I had a child. after she came home from school, i gave her lunch and put her to sleep. i tucked her up under her favourite fluffy blanket, put her to sleep. I had lots of work. It had to be done right then. Urgent, important grown up work. She was fast asleep. She was a deep sleeper. She would be safe here, I told myself, and went to the study to do my grownup work. The bogeyman came by that afternoon. He passed by the window, next to which her bed lay. He had balloons, of many colours, round, shining. And flowers. And chocolate. And he smiled at her and talked of many things. Fairies, clouds, stars, people, the world, love, loss and rain. All the things that fascinated my little girl. She must have stared at him in wide eyed wonder. She must have cried a little to think of all the waste. She must have stopped and shut her eyes every now and then. She must have taken reality checks. She must have called out to me ... but I had been too busy to here her call. The bogeyman put a spell on her. She must have slipped out, somehow, through the grill that gaurded the window, inspite of everything I had done to keep her safely in. I was still in the study when I heard her cries. He made her come out and left her crying on the sidewalk. She stood there in the afternoon sun. bawling like the idiot she was. Crying because he was gone. She had thought he'd take her sailing on a cloud. They would float above the skies. Drop handfuls of rain on people below. Paint sunshine in the skies. Laugh thunder in the night. Was it typical of my role that at that moment anger battled sympathy? fear battled love? How do you take care of a child? How do you bring up someone right? How do you teach a wild, crazy, dreaming idiot ... the difference between right and wrong, the important things in life, the ways of the world, self respect, survival. its hard. its very hard. and it will get harder as time goes on.
55 Words (Disclaimer: Tagged)
Was tagged into this by Parna, so here goes, in my bungling (55) words:
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/55-words-disclaimer-tagged.html
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/55-words-disclaimer-tagged.html
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
new channel on new scientist
Memory-altering drugs may rewrite your past - Instant Expert: The Human Brain
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Letters to that boy
do u ever feel totally lost and confused
as to kya kar na chaahiye - kis disha mein chalna chaahiye
i mean kaam ke baare mein
and u wish ki koi hota jo humse bara hota aur samajhdaar hota
and we could trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to you
then u could tell them ur doubts and take their advice
maybe I'm just talking about Faith :)
u asked me the 1st time we spoke if i have anyone to talk to
i said no
i know it probably sounded like i have no close friends ... but its not that
my life is crowded with people
who love me - but cant say why - or give gaurantees - or live upto them
and with people also that i love, or am very fond of - but cant lean on, even a little bit
cz i dont trust them enough ... and when i say i dont trust them i mean that
trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to me
i mean kaam ke baare mein
and u wish ki koi hota jo humse bara hota aur samajhdaar hota
and we could trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to you
then u could tell them ur doubts and take their advice
maybe I'm just talking about Faith :)
u asked me the 1st time we spoke if i have anyone to talk to
i said no
i know it probably sounded like i have no close friends ... but its not that
my life is crowded with people
who love me - but cant say why - or give gaurantees - or live upto them
and with people also that i love, or am very fond of - but cant lean on, even a little bit
cz i dont trust them enough ... and when i say i dont trust them i mean that
trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to me
Random Notes
Its just idea's that we long for - inverted ghosts: shadows of the future,
or of our dreams, our imaginings. or echoes and footprints of past.
of lives lived. things felt.
we look back, and dream forward, from here, where we are frozen ...
we look at each others mourning and marvel at the diff sounds of
our cries and diff shapes of our tears ... but in the end theres
only one fact that remains ... death the lowest common denominator
and an end: of all that was and could have been, of all we were and
could have been, and wont be, nay, will not allow
ourselves to be, ever, ever again.
i'm sorry. i guess i'm just a nasty and cranky and vitriolic.
like a bitter old man who's been a gatekeeper at the further
outpost of the fortress walls for way to long ... strong,
lonely and frozen
Is it really (like being inside my thoughts), I wonder ;@)
u should always remember that u never know what another persons
thoughts are. u just see what they show u and that might
have nothing to do with what they are or are thinking :)
Remember my comment on one of ur recent posts to this effect?
we talk in riddles and hyperboles. its like we are all sitting
in a pressure cooker. u dont want to let out everything thats inside.
u let out little wisps of steam now and then. u were thinking of
something then, it caused u to write something, but not eactly what
u were thinking. and reading that i inferred, guessed at,
something, which again might be something entirely diff.
moral of the story: we can never be inside anyone's head ... thank god.
aaj chokh chhol chhol
mon tao durbol
shimaana haariye gechhe
poth phuriye gechhe
baari pherar poth,
aaj nirjon.
baari but baar shei baari khaali.
shob dhuloye dhoshiye gechhe!
reading, writing, music, people, texas, uk, kolkata, silence,
contrasts, confusion, contradiction, diction, cognition, the brain, psychology, philosophy, sociology etymology, ai, systems programming, networking, mainframes, history, literature, history of literature, movies, humour, satire, meanings, invasive question games, thought, devil's advocacy, curmudgeonliness, pessimism, ennui, ego, pride, power, love, sorrow, depression, narcisissm, pain
Empire art Kolkata invasive question games silence thought experiments devil's advocacy Curmudgeonliness, Pessimism, Ennui
people life texas kolkata silence contrasts contradiction cognition psychology philosophy systems programming history literature meanings bloviation
i think its always the person own choice ... yet we hve to be prepared to take consequences for our choices ... sometimes thats hard. specially cz payday is usually so long delayed ... ur a diff person by then and so u sometimes
feel like ur paying for what someone else chose, bought and consumed. now theres nothing left - the person, the purchase ... just you and the bills
This is another concept I have struggled with for a long time ... dont shoot me, just saying what I have wondered ... if you love him and he loves you and if you're so good together, does it matter if he is unfaithful ... I mean there will be something wrong with everyone right ... they say no one is perfect
and everyone will have some fault ... the fatal flaw, though
all else might be perfect
i know where the problems are. i know, almost, what the problems are. but i dont know how to fix them. i know what i want eventually, but i dont know how to get there. it seems so far away ... a trembling leap across an awning chasm and the clock ticking behind you.
someone asked me to clarify these and it set me wondering. These are the type of things I am always weaving neatly into elaborately circumlocuted lectures and parables. With a little sister ten yrs your junior, you learn to 'lecture' with panache (a bottle-ful of sugar). Today, got totally confused!
I think the "do as I say not as I do" policy was better!
how do you "be friendly" without "being friends"
how do you keep "what you feel like" and "what you
want" clearly seperate in your head
"my greatest lovesprings from my greatest hate" anais nin
of all the people i like, if they get to friendly with u i hate them for it. if they hate u, i hate them for it. so the only way i can survive is to keep the two worlds scruplously apart. but ur in me, my love. i carry u, inside, wherever i go. every love, passion, friendship, relationship ... fades before the intensity of my hate for u. is it love. is it hate, i dont know. at 10 yrs of age, ur too young to decide. after that u dont dare to know. to look. to think. i hate u.
of lives lived. things felt.
we look back, and dream forward, from here, where we are frozen ...
we look at each others mourning and marvel at the diff sounds of
our cries and diff shapes of our tears ... but in the end theres
only one fact that remains ... death the lowest common denominator
and an end: of all that was and could have been, of all we were and
could have been, and wont be, nay, will not allow
ourselves to be, ever, ever again.
i'm sorry. i guess i'm just a nasty and cranky and vitriolic.
like a bitter old man who's been a gatekeeper at the further
outpost of the fortress walls for way to long ... strong,
lonely and frozen
Is it really (like being inside my thoughts), I wonder ;@)
u should always remember that u never know what another persons
thoughts are. u just see what they show u and that might
have nothing to do with what they are or are thinking :)
Remember my comment on one of ur recent posts to this effect?
we talk in riddles and hyperboles. its like we are all sitting
in a pressure cooker. u dont want to let out everything thats inside.
u let out little wisps of steam now and then. u were thinking of
something then, it caused u to write something, but not eactly what
u were thinking. and reading that i inferred, guessed at,
something, which again might be something entirely diff.
moral of the story: we can never be inside anyone's head ... thank god.
aaj chokh chhol chhol
mon tao durbol
shimaana haariye gechhe
poth phuriye gechhe
baari pherar poth,
aaj nirjon.
baari but baar shei baari khaali.
shob dhuloye dhoshiye gechhe!
reading, writing, music, people, texas, uk, kolkata, silence,
contrasts, confusion, contradiction, diction, cognition, the brain, psychology, philosophy, sociology etymology, ai, systems programming, networking, mainframes, history, literature, history of literature, movies, humour, satire, meanings, invasive question games, thought, devil's advocacy, curmudgeonliness, pessimism, ennui, ego, pride, power, love, sorrow, depression, narcisissm, pain
Empire art Kolkata invasive question games silence thought experiments devil's advocacy Curmudgeonliness, Pessimism, Ennui
people life texas kolkata silence contrasts contradiction cognition psychology philosophy systems programming history literature meanings bloviation
i think its always the person own choice ... yet we hve to be prepared to take consequences for our choices ... sometimes thats hard. specially cz payday is usually so long delayed ... ur a diff person by then and so u sometimes
feel like ur paying for what someone else chose, bought and consumed. now theres nothing left - the person, the purchase ... just you and the bills
This is another concept I have struggled with for a long time ... dont shoot me, just saying what I have wondered ... if you love him and he loves you and if you're so good together, does it matter if he is unfaithful ... I mean there will be something wrong with everyone right ... they say no one is perfect
and everyone will have some fault ... the fatal flaw, though
all else might be perfect
i know where the problems are. i know, almost, what the problems are. but i dont know how to fix them. i know what i want eventually, but i dont know how to get there. it seems so far away ... a trembling leap across an awning chasm and the clock ticking behind you.
someone asked me to clarify these and it set me wondering. These are the type of things I am always weaving neatly into elaborately circumlocuted lectures and parables. With a little sister ten yrs your junior, you learn to 'lecture' with panache (a bottle-ful of sugar). Today, got totally confused!
I think the "do as I say not as I do" policy was better!
how do you "be friendly" without "being friends"
how do you keep "what you feel like" and "what you
want" clearly seperate in your head
"my greatest lovesprings from my greatest hate" anais nin
of all the people i like, if they get to friendly with u i hate them for it. if they hate u, i hate them for it. so the only way i can survive is to keep the two worlds scruplously apart. but ur in me, my love. i carry u, inside, wherever i go. every love, passion, friendship, relationship ... fades before the intensity of my hate for u. is it love. is it hate, i dont know. at 10 yrs of age, ur too young to decide. after that u dont dare to know. to look. to think. i hate u.
if i was untrue, hope u knew, it was never to you
week after week flashes by. nothing to say, really. nothing that hasnt been said already. the things that need telling, i dont know how to tell, or indeed, if i should, or ever could. how to find the words? the heart? the courage? dil mein taqat, jigaar mein haal kahaan?
anyway, shifting to another gear, i felt a little bad abt the press release by R where he said 'they obviously knew who was the best' and narry a mention of the other 4 companies the contract was jointly awarded to, but then maybe it doesnt matter.
The bull is apparently running like never before and even i am making some :)
No football this friday. No rowing this weekend. No invites. No friends. No phone calls. Just me and Java. Need to start studying. Honest - this is pathetic! Its steppenwolf's fault, cz he has me in his grip - major distraction.
In the blog world, another one bites the dust, another old blog friend closes down his blog. Reasons are familiar. Vie, ur a wise one. The thing is, the min something is written by someone u know, someone who is a friend, the reader reacts to it like its a friend telling u something abt their lives. ie, they look for the person in the prose. which is something which will invariably frustrate the writer if he is not concerned with his person-ality but rather with his prose ... ummm ... bah! i got lost somewhere there. Maybe its the same with real writers as well, bcz i remember having once read some cribbing to the effect in immortality (kundera)
I was browsing through the old blog and came across my first post ... the way we were! And life goes on; in endless circles; drunkenly overlapping and overrunning eachother. it takes a lot, i sometimes feel, to stay faithful ... to ur dream, to ur self, to life. to stay, true to life. Song in my head ...
By now, I have worked in 3 continents and in 4 offices and this is my fav amongst all my work environments. Just for the simple little traditions they have which make things a little bit cosier. Also, the dreaded C word is not such a dirty word here. or maybe i should say 'yet'. No horsing around apart, i like the people here. Theres something very sweet and warm and even genuine abt them
Outside, its fall again: my favourite time of the year. The tree's begin to blush again. The roads are littered with discarded leaves. maple leaves? another one for the series? :) i go to a bench behind the office to eat my lunch. as i munch through my lunch, i watch a leave swirl and dance lazily down to the grass. if i asked you, as u stand tall, swaying gracefully in the wind, why did you pick this leaf to discard, would you answer me, or stare at me with doe-caught-in-the-headlight eyes? later, as i walk back to the office, i saw a little bird lying on its back on the sidewalk. it was white and blue and grey and very beautiful. it was obviously still alive, but each time i tried to go near it, to see if i could help, it would scratch out with its claws. maybe it could sense that the end was near and was saving me the trouble? Song in my head ...
Come September, its that time of the year when i miss cal the most of all ... pujo? Nyet! founders day. the joys of going back to school and getting sloshed on sponsored booze along with ur gods of yesterday ... priceless. Some people never got over 'Nam or the night their band opened for Nirvana. 'Someone' never really got over Charlie. Most Martinians, I think, never get over School.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-i-was-untrue-hope-u-knew-it-was.html
anyway, shifting to another gear, i felt a little bad abt the press release by R where he said 'they obviously knew who was the best' and narry a mention of the other 4 companies the contract was jointly awarded to, but then maybe it doesnt matter.
The bull is apparently running like never before and even i am making some :)
No football this friday. No rowing this weekend. No invites. No friends. No phone calls. Just me and Java. Need to start studying. Honest - this is pathetic! Its steppenwolf's fault, cz he has me in his grip - major distraction.
In the blog world, another one bites the dust, another old blog friend closes down his blog. Reasons are familiar. Vie, ur a wise one. The thing is, the min something is written by someone u know, someone who is a friend, the reader reacts to it like its a friend telling u something abt their lives. ie, they look for the person in the prose. which is something which will invariably frustrate the writer if he is not concerned with his person-ality but rather with his prose ... ummm ... bah! i got lost somewhere there. Maybe its the same with real writers as well, bcz i remember having once read some cribbing to the effect in immortality (kundera)
I was browsing through the old blog and came across my first post ... the way we were! And life goes on; in endless circles; drunkenly overlapping and overrunning eachother. it takes a lot, i sometimes feel, to stay faithful ... to ur dream, to ur self, to life. to stay, true to life. Song in my head ...
By now, I have worked in 3 continents and in 4 offices and this is my fav amongst all my work environments. Just for the simple little traditions they have which make things a little bit cosier. Also, the dreaded C word is not such a dirty word here. or maybe i should say 'yet'. No horsing around apart, i like the people here. Theres something very sweet and warm and even genuine abt them
Outside, its fall again: my favourite time of the year. The tree's begin to blush again. The roads are littered with discarded leaves. maple leaves? another one for the series? :) i go to a bench behind the office to eat my lunch. as i munch through my lunch, i watch a leave swirl and dance lazily down to the grass. if i asked you, as u stand tall, swaying gracefully in the wind, why did you pick this leaf to discard, would you answer me, or stare at me with doe-caught-in-the-headlight eyes? later, as i walk back to the office, i saw a little bird lying on its back on the sidewalk. it was white and blue and grey and very beautiful. it was obviously still alive, but each time i tried to go near it, to see if i could help, it would scratch out with its claws. maybe it could sense that the end was near and was saving me the trouble? Song in my head ...
Come September, its that time of the year when i miss cal the most of all ... pujo? Nyet! founders day. the joys of going back to school and getting sloshed on sponsored booze along with ur gods of yesterday ... priceless. Some people never got over 'Nam or the night their band opened for Nirvana. 'Someone' never really got over Charlie. Most Martinians, I think, never get over School.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-i-was-untrue-hope-u-knew-it-was.html
My Dear Phantom
betrayed
discarded
thrown away
little baby
pls dont cry
princess in the garbage bag
everybody's angel turned to rags
thrown away
taken home
thrown away
taken home
little baby pls dont cry
one day,
u'll sing urself lullabies
round and round
time after time
the bells ring out from the distance
echo
shivers through the cold air
and the rides the waves of time
falling on my skin
like the cold clammy clinging fingers
of the wet caress, of a fast rotting corpse
apologies ...
for the sordid pitures!
but i'm tired of apologising.
sorry if i scared u,
im so glad i hurt u.
maybe now
u'll know how it feels
and im sorry i took it away
what i had once lent you
see how emptiness feels.
theres a crow in the parlour
glossy, black and fat
its crying out all day and night
glossy wings v laid back
all lay down and get ready to die
all lie down you'll love to die
no time to cry
the dance is over
no time to sigh
the song is over
the game is done
for this round
the sun has burned itself to dust
theres just a battlefield, in the cold and dark
littered bodies on the ground
rotting bodies all around
whenever i reached out to look for u
my hand met a decaying i love u
no more games
or i love yous
no more trials
no more searches
time to give up the eternal search
time to lay down and say goodbye
watch hope fly
away in the sky
discarded
thrown away
little baby
pls dont cry
princess in the garbage bag
everybody's angel turned to rags
thrown away
taken home
thrown away
taken home
little baby pls dont cry
one day,
u'll sing urself lullabies
round and round
time after time
the bells ring out from the distance
echo
shivers through the cold air
and the rides the waves of time
falling on my skin
like the cold clammy clinging fingers
of the wet caress, of a fast rotting corpse
apologies ...
for the sordid pitures!
but i'm tired of apologising.
sorry if i scared u,
im so glad i hurt u.
maybe now
u'll know how it feels
and im sorry i took it away
what i had once lent you
see how emptiness feels.
theres a crow in the parlour
glossy, black and fat
its crying out all day and night
glossy wings v laid back
all lay down and get ready to die
all lie down you'll love to die
no time to cry
the dance is over
no time to sigh
the song is over
the game is done
for this round
the sun has burned itself to dust
theres just a battlefield, in the cold and dark
littered bodies on the ground
rotting bodies all around
whenever i reached out to look for u
my hand met a decaying i love u
no more games
or i love yous
no more trials
no more searches
time to give up the eternal search
time to lay down and say goodbye
watch hope fly
away in the sky
Orient Express at SPE
Stumbled upon this looking for the author of a interestingly written review! Quite the same way as I'd stumbled into Pico Iyer a long time ago, but thats another story. The Orient Express used (probably still does) play at Someplace Else (SPE) in Calcutta. At a time when good live music was at a premium in Cal. Loads of memories. SPE, ofcourse, have written enough abt it already in older posts, and Orient Express.
I read this today - Guess who's the likeliest candidate!!!
Quite out-of-words, specially after the immense comment i left on a certain persons blog - which was almost as long as most posts i've written. yikes - maybe he will ban me in future!
Why do I like him? I'm sure I dont know. Maybe its just my villain-of-the-moment-philia :)
Couldnt sleep last night - which means that I was starving all day today. Whats the connection? I dunno. Its always like that for me. Tried to sleep till 0100, then gave up and went for a walk. Why does the world feel so different at night? Went to the river, its very near my house. It sounds nice. Standing at the bridge, looking down. Added benefit: In the dark you cant see how dirty it is :) And I thought about how long it was since I have done that. Not bothering to go to bed on a weeknight. eating choc cake in the middle of the week. Come so far, barely noticed, from the old days. When did I become so conventional, so grown-up, so practical, so scared? The just right before dawn brings so many memories ... but the strongest and first is always Barbie. Most days around five she'd still be in her room painting. By around then we'd have our fill of our solitary and reach out. All night chats. Sense & Sensibilty, Siddharta, Hi-Fid, does the cat really love us, do you want to steal some choc cake. Miss you so much little one.
Was left speechless by someones thoughts. So much belief, faith. So honest. So clean. So simple. Why you like this little one? And u've lived even more years ... does it get better, then? Or is it just 'you'
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/orient-express-at-spe.html
I read this today - Guess who's the likeliest candidate!!!
Quite out-of-words, specially after the immense comment i left on a certain persons blog - which was almost as long as most posts i've written. yikes - maybe he will ban me in future!
Why do I like him? I'm sure I dont know. Maybe its just my villain-of-the-moment-philia :)
Couldnt sleep last night - which means that I was starving all day today. Whats the connection? I dunno. Its always like that for me. Tried to sleep till 0100, then gave up and went for a walk. Why does the world feel so different at night? Went to the river, its very near my house. It sounds nice. Standing at the bridge, looking down. Added benefit: In the dark you cant see how dirty it is :) And I thought about how long it was since I have done that. Not bothering to go to bed on a weeknight. eating choc cake in the middle of the week. Come so far, barely noticed, from the old days. When did I become so conventional, so grown-up, so practical, so scared? The just right before dawn brings so many memories ... but the strongest and first is always Barbie. Most days around five she'd still be in her room painting. By around then we'd have our fill of our solitary and reach out. All night chats. Sense & Sensibilty, Siddharta, Hi-Fid, does the cat really love us, do you want to steal some choc cake. Miss you so much little one.
Was left speechless by someones thoughts. So much belief, faith. So honest. So clean. So simple. Why you like this little one? And u've lived even more years ... does it get better, then? Or is it just 'you'
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/orient-express-at-spe.html
Dhhuya
shabdo mein kya bayaan kare
sannata kaise goongta hai
kissi ko kya bataye
laashe kaise jeetee hain
na umeed ya asha
na roshni ki chahat ho
jo ghar kabhi basa nehi
uska kaisa chiraag ho
barsaat mein, toofan mein
jo deep jalaaya
roshni ki kadar na thee
toh dhaage ko kyun jalaya
bedard, bedil,
bewafa, aap kahaan?
kaafir toh hum the
jo has ke gum le na sake
hum to subha se hi
badnaam, be-jaat, be-imaan the
phir bhi kuchh the,
tere baad kuchh na rahe
bahut dur jali aag
bahut paas utha dhuuya
bahut dur jali chita
bahut paas koi jala
jab se hosh tha, bas tera bharosa tha
jab se hosh tha, tera bharosa tha
sharam se aaj sir jhuka ke
tere baad bhi hosh bacha hain
sannata kaise goongta hai
kissi ko kya bataye
laashe kaise jeetee hain
na umeed ya asha
na roshni ki chahat ho
jo ghar kabhi basa nehi
uska kaisa chiraag ho
barsaat mein, toofan mein
jo deep jalaaya
roshni ki kadar na thee
toh dhaage ko kyun jalaya
bedard, bedil,
bewafa, aap kahaan?
kaafir toh hum the
jo has ke gum le na sake
hum to subha se hi
badnaam, be-jaat, be-imaan the
phir bhi kuchh the,
tere baad kuchh na rahe
bahut dur jali aag
bahut paas utha dhuuya
bahut dur jali chita
bahut paas koi jala
jab se hosh tha, bas tera bharosa tha
jab se hosh tha, tera bharosa tha
sharam se aaj sir jhuka ke
tere baad bhi hosh bacha hain
Face in the mirror
standing,
in knee deep clutter
of broken pieces of
the face in the mirror
the parts,
that the image of myself
has separated into,
falling,
have jagged edges that cut
scattered junk crappy poetry
and still born prose
while the sun starts to begin to start to set on my days
im still frozen, like a deer in the headlights
and u flew dancing by
gaily coloured carousel
father son holy friend
burned my eyes to watch u gaily spin
achingly, bleedingly
ringing wind in hollow walls of my heart
so runs through my head screeching ... the fatal desire
to let go and fall
look over the ledge
shaking hands, grip the edge
on and on the voices run
let go. hang on
in knee deep clutter
of broken pieces of
the face in the mirror
the parts,
that the image of myself
has separated into,
falling,
have jagged edges that cut
scattered junk crappy poetry
and still born prose
while the sun starts to begin to start to set on my days
im still frozen, like a deer in the headlights
and u flew dancing by
gaily coloured carousel
father son holy friend
burned my eyes to watch u gaily spin
achingly, bleedingly
ringing wind in hollow walls of my heart
so runs through my head screeching ... the fatal desire
to let go and fall
look over the ledge
shaking hands, grip the edge
on and on the voices run
let go. hang on