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
Dil
unginat tukre karke
musafiro mein baat diya
dil ka kamra kamra humne
khaali karke rakh diya
aasoo aaso sametke usmein
ek samundar ban gaya
leher leher andhi aayi
us mein khud hi dub gaya
apne dil ki kissi kone mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
duniya bahaar bahaar reh gayi
khud dil ke andhar kho gaya
tere liye jo khaali kiya tha
tere gum mein bhar diya
apni dil ki kissi kono mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
musafiro mein baat diya
dil ka kamra kamra humne
khaali karke rakh diya
aasoo aaso sametke usmein
ek samundar ban gaya
leher leher andhi aayi
us mein khud hi dub gaya
apne dil ki kissi kone mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
duniya bahaar bahaar reh gayi
khud dil ke andhar kho gaya
tere liye jo khaali kiya tha
tere gum mein bhar diya
apni dil ki kissi kono mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
to be continued
today was one of those days when i just could not concentrate on anything. sometimes it just pokes me in the eye and paralyses me all day. i keep messing up at work. i couldnt write a post. i couldnt do my homework. i havent paused all day, but i havent completed a single task succesfully. i locked my unix pwd again. the generate was messed up. got a wrong cr #. its like falling into water when you cant swim - you know what you are supposed to do but you cant make ur arms and legs do it.
this is not what i wanted. this is so not what i wanted. i know that it could have been worse. i know that atleast i have a decent thing to do. money in my pocket. my own money. no need to beg. no need for charity. i actually help support people now ... but this is not what i wanted.
when we read pressman in college - i used to crib ... who the hll uses all this rubbish ... well now i know. i cant crib. i made my choices. but it sucks. i it. i didnt spend 4 yrs for this. i hate it. i hate it all
its true that its not death that kills you, its life. one day at a time. every dream is weighed against the price youre willing to pay for it and shatters to the ground falling from the scales. there were too many dreams. life gives you anything you ask for. life gives you everything you ask for. you can have anything you want. but you will have to take it. no changing your mind. and you have to pay for it. so if you get the specs wrong - ur done.
i try this exercise now. i try to close my eyes and think about what i want - what i really want. and its so hard. and sometimes things clear up. the way i have carved things out its hard. its painful. its very very lonely. but better honest clean solitude than crowded hypocrisy.
do you ever feel like spring cleaning your life and chucking out everything, everyone. i have done it, at a level. i am doing it now. why should i hold their hand while they blot out me and everything i blv in. why do i scale down, hold back, temper every colour down, so noone is uncomfortable, hurt, made to feel awkward. they just turn around and call me a names afterwards.
i like to be alone. because id rather be alone than with anyone i know of. i like to keep quiet bcz though the words burn up inside me, i cant find a way to say them, so that you may understand. so i hold it in my hands a while and then put it back inside
sometimes i things that drive my crazy. i feel pain that numbs everything else. i feel joy that makes the whole w
this is not what i wanted. this is so not what i wanted. i know that it could have been worse. i know that atleast i have a decent thing to do. money in my pocket. my own money. no need to beg. no need for charity. i actually help support people now ... but this is not what i wanted.
when we read pressman in college - i used to crib ... who the hll uses all this rubbish ... well now i know. i cant crib. i made my choices. but it sucks. i it. i didnt spend 4 yrs for this. i hate it. i hate it all
its true that its not death that kills you, its life. one day at a time. every dream is weighed against the price youre willing to pay for it and shatters to the ground falling from the scales. there were too many dreams. life gives you anything you ask for. life gives you everything you ask for. you can have anything you want. but you will have to take it. no changing your mind. and you have to pay for it. so if you get the specs wrong - ur done.
i try this exercise now. i try to close my eyes and think about what i want - what i really want. and its so hard. and sometimes things clear up. the way i have carved things out its hard. its painful. its very very lonely. but better honest clean solitude than crowded hypocrisy.
do you ever feel like spring cleaning your life and chucking out everything, everyone. i have done it, at a level. i am doing it now. why should i hold their hand while they blot out me and everything i blv in. why do i scale down, hold back, temper every colour down, so noone is uncomfortable, hurt, made to feel awkward. they just turn around and call me a names afterwards.
i like to be alone. because id rather be alone than with anyone i know of. i like to keep quiet bcz though the words burn up inside me, i cant find a way to say them, so that you may understand. so i hold it in my hands a while and then put it back inside
sometimes i things that drive my crazy. i feel pain that numbs everything else. i feel joy that makes the whole w
going to california - messed up
Spent my days with men unkind, Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.
Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To California with an aching in my heart.
Someone told me there's a man out there with love in his heart, spinning dreams in the air
Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let them tell you that they're all the same.
The sea was red and the sky was grey, wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.
The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake
as the children of the sun began to awake.
Seems that the wrath of the Gods
Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow;
I think I might be sinking.
Throw me a line if I reach it in time
I'll meet you up there where the path
Runs straight and high.
To find a king without kingdom or a queen,
They say he plays the guitar and cries and sings
Rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn
Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born.
Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams,
Telling himself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.
random thoughts
life kills you, not death. and it takes it times
my greatest joys, my most beautiful shadows, tallest pride, crippling shame, paralysing bitterness ... comes from my loneliness
sometimes i feel so alone ... sometimes i feel like if, if only, I had a friend. just one perfect friend. like one perfect rose. someone i can always talk to. in all my life theres never been anyone i could talk to. someone i can trust. in all my life theres never been anyone i could trust.
i dont know anything. love. life. where we are going what we are doing why we are sitting here wasting time. and everything else seems so pointless without that
Some days, the friendlessness pokes you behind your eyes every now and then like those funny headaches that you get when you are dehydrated ... elusive, but ever present. playing hide and seek. it stares you in the face stark, shining, unbending:
you are alone. totally alone. there is noone. there can be noone. ever. anywhere. you will always be alone. and you have no clue. why you are here. what the goals are. where you are headed. what you are supposed to do.
Then someone breaks into your thoughts with a friendly attempt at conversation ... and you stifle a curse bcz your chain of thought is broken and you realise that maybe all men are not social animals. people who are self-centred, self absorbed, lost in the abyss of introspection ... and yet polite ... cowardly, are better of on their own
the blog is killing my pink pages
theres nothing i hate more than to be disturbed when i am thinking.
my greatest joys, my most beautiful shadows, tallest pride, crippling shame, paralysing bitterness ... comes from my loneliness
sometimes i feel so alone ... sometimes i feel like if, if only, I had a friend. just one perfect friend. like one perfect rose. someone i can always talk to. in all my life theres never been anyone i could talk to. someone i can trust. in all my life theres never been anyone i could trust.
i dont know anything. love. life. where we are going what we are doing why we are sitting here wasting time. and everything else seems so pointless without that
Some days, the friendlessness pokes you behind your eyes every now and then like those funny headaches that you get when you are dehydrated ... elusive, but ever present. playing hide and seek. it stares you in the face stark, shining, unbending:
you are alone. totally alone. there is noone. there can be noone. ever. anywhere. you will always be alone. and you have no clue. why you are here. what the goals are. where you are headed. what you are supposed to do.
Then someone breaks into your thoughts with a friendly attempt at conversation ... and you stifle a curse bcz your chain of thought is broken and you realise that maybe all men are not social animals. people who are self-centred, self absorbed, lost in the abyss of introspection ... and yet polite ... cowardly, are better of on their own
the blog is killing my pink pages
theres nothing i hate more than to be disturbed when i am thinking.
whats love gotto do, gotto do with it
You must understand
Though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I read it some place
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
I've been taking on a new direction
And I have to say
I've been thinking 'bout my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love, but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
everywhere there are men and women, there will be attraction. sparks will fly, temperature will rise. heartbeats accelerate everynow and then. dreams will get crowded with phantom guests. the problems, the confusions and then the pain ... comes because we confuse each attraction, for love. the attraction is like a fertile ground, where you could plant a seed and hope it grows into the tree of love. but it is not love. even if you did plant the seed, you would still have to water it for a while to make it grow. even then it would depend on that particular plant (seed / sapling / root / tree), on the environment, on the random whims of a stray cow which may wander by and take a bite at the whole baby plant, a single bolt of lightning, or a casual wood men may cut down the full grown, matured tree ... there would be all these chances and more, between the readiness of the soil and the full grown tree.
everywhere there are people there will be likes and dislikes. affections. disagreements. trust. betrayal. friendship. confidences. shame. pride. ego clashes. shared humour. bitterness. making fun of someone. the square pegs. the round pegs. the grid. the quiet joy of finding another person a bit like you. the excitement of finding someone you can relate to. the awe of admiring someone, someone more like who you want to be. the gentleness of feeling protective of someone you are fond of. someone more like who you think you might have once been. the betrayal, the loneliniess, the disillusionments come when we confuse each affection found, for friendship.
i sent an olive branch. i turned my head away in anger, but i could not walk away. not because of what he is, but maybe bcz of what he means to me. he means to me, freedom - from every judgement i accepted. he means to me, unconditional love. he means to me, the ideal of friendship, personified. he means to me trust, bcz he is the only one who has never hurt me. he means to me absolvement, bcz he solves every confession. he means to me a bank, bcz he is the only one i say everything to. he means to me, security, bcz I know i will never stop loving him. nothing will ever matter between us. nothing will ever change us. nothing will come in between us. bcz i can always turn to him in need. always. he means to me, every friend I have ever had, every one i have ever loved, every dream i have ever dreamed
i saw 'pinjar'. after all the expectations i had had, it was ok. the same old cliche of ram and ravaan? i always thought felt on ravan side. but this time i felt different. was it just bcz they had switched to that side? well that maybe so. cant help it if im intrinsically antimob? vajpayee (is it something about the name that everyone who bears it becomes the coolest??? ;0)) is brilliant, as always. he is just too good. urmila is weird. i almost found myself wishing they had put someone else in her place. the rest of the actors were all good. the theme was the great and very well handled, i think. and in the background, the same wounds they will never take their sticks out of. i wish i could conjure some magic and undo it. put it all back together. sometimes i feel like it was all mine, and i want it back. whole and sound and healthy
i made someone cry. it disturbed me so much that i fell asleep as soon as i got home. ok im kidding. it feels good doesnt it that someone cares. even if its fleeting. if such a small thing could make her cry for me, then what would she do if she heard about my whole life?
i slept 8.5 hours yesterday! its been ages! usually i sleep 4 to 5 hours. from 12 to 5 am. but last week was so exquisitely tiring that i guess yesterday it was just too much. today we have a farewell dinner for a collg (i cant spell that) who is leaving. its been 4 days since I ate something nice, something cooked, something with gravy. im going mad thinking about it
Though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I read it some place
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
I've been taking on a new direction
And I have to say
I've been thinking 'bout my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love, but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
everywhere there are men and women, there will be attraction. sparks will fly, temperature will rise. heartbeats accelerate everynow and then. dreams will get crowded with phantom guests. the problems, the confusions and then the pain ... comes because we confuse each attraction, for love. the attraction is like a fertile ground, where you could plant a seed and hope it grows into the tree of love. but it is not love. even if you did plant the seed, you would still have to water it for a while to make it grow. even then it would depend on that particular plant (seed / sapling / root / tree), on the environment, on the random whims of a stray cow which may wander by and take a bite at the whole baby plant, a single bolt of lightning, or a casual wood men may cut down the full grown, matured tree ... there would be all these chances and more, between the readiness of the soil and the full grown tree.
everywhere there are people there will be likes and dislikes. affections. disagreements. trust. betrayal. friendship. confidences. shame. pride. ego clashes. shared humour. bitterness. making fun of someone. the square pegs. the round pegs. the grid. the quiet joy of finding another person a bit like you. the excitement of finding someone you can relate to. the awe of admiring someone, someone more like who you want to be. the gentleness of feeling protective of someone you are fond of. someone more like who you think you might have once been. the betrayal, the loneliniess, the disillusionments come when we confuse each affection found, for friendship.
i sent an olive branch. i turned my head away in anger, but i could not walk away. not because of what he is, but maybe bcz of what he means to me. he means to me, freedom - from every judgement i accepted. he means to me, unconditional love. he means to me, the ideal of friendship, personified. he means to me trust, bcz he is the only one who has never hurt me. he means to me absolvement, bcz he solves every confession. he means to me a bank, bcz he is the only one i say everything to. he means to me, security, bcz I know i will never stop loving him. nothing will ever matter between us. nothing will ever change us. nothing will come in between us. bcz i can always turn to him in need. always. he means to me, every friend I have ever had, every one i have ever loved, every dream i have ever dreamed
i saw 'pinjar'. after all the expectations i had had, it was ok. the same old cliche of ram and ravaan? i always thought felt on ravan side. but this time i felt different. was it just bcz they had switched to that side? well that maybe so. cant help it if im intrinsically antimob? vajpayee (is it something about the name that everyone who bears it becomes the coolest??? ;0)) is brilliant, as always. he is just too good. urmila is weird. i almost found myself wishing they had put someone else in her place. the rest of the actors were all good. the theme was the great and very well handled, i think. and in the background, the same wounds they will never take their sticks out of. i wish i could conjure some magic and undo it. put it all back together. sometimes i feel like it was all mine, and i want it back. whole and sound and healthy
i made someone cry. it disturbed me so much that i fell asleep as soon as i got home. ok im kidding. it feels good doesnt it that someone cares. even if its fleeting. if such a small thing could make her cry for me, then what would she do if she heard about my whole life?
i slept 8.5 hours yesterday! its been ages! usually i sleep 4 to 5 hours. from 12 to 5 am. but last week was so exquisitely tiring that i guess yesterday it was just too much. today we have a farewell dinner for a collg (i cant spell that) who is leaving. its been 4 days since I ate something nice, something cooked, something with gravy. im going mad thinking about it
Banjar
jo zameen sukhe banjar par jaaye
to akela tinka sawaan ki hariyaali ho
to akela tinka sawaan ki hariyaali ho
jo dharti sehra ban jaaye
har ek bund pura sawaan ho
jo jeevan samshaan ban jaaye
har aahat gunje shor
jo man itna khaali par jaaye
har ishaara ek rishta ban jaaye
jo din itne akele ho jaaye
ek kiran bhi mehmaan ho
to be continued
when the written word is almost your only (non ephemereal) passion, thats the easiest analogy that comes to mind. As a natural fallout of being an incurable book reader / buyer / collector / keeper (in the mark twain sense), before long you find yourself owning an unmanagably large colume of books. Which is a double edged problem.
like () said, you never know how real the character in a book are, till you have lived in one urself. i have lived in books probably more years than in the outised world, since when i learnt to read my first (). when you read a lot or love what you read very much, for a long time, after a while the boundaries between the real world and your world of fiction dims and fades and then glimmers in the distance. Not just while you are reading but at all times. Thus might I wake one morning with a vague uneasiness of missing someone close and worry at it like a itch you cant reach to scratch, till it suddenly dawns upon me ... its pip & beth, or for some weird reason ... mini's dad, or jane, or wyanan, or mole (mole, i often miss)
1 - cant find the one u want 2 read
2 - cant keep / carry
3 not worth
have to part with
library // casual friends // come and go
read forget - keep always - keep at home
glad of having read but will never read again
will never buy but will read again and again
will buy but never read
love to talk about - will never discuss // dominiques statue
like () said, you never know how real the character in a book are, till you have lived in one urself. i have lived in books probably more years than in the outised world, since when i learnt to read my first (). when you read a lot or love what you read very much, for a long time, after a while the boundaries between the real world and your world of fiction dims and fades and then glimmers in the distance. Not just while you are reading but at all times. Thus might I wake one morning with a vague uneasiness of missing someone close and worry at it like a itch you cant reach to scratch, till it suddenly dawns upon me ... its pip & beth, or for some weird reason ... mini's dad, or jane, or wyanan, or mole (mole, i often miss)
1 - cant find the one u want 2 read
2 - cant keep / carry
3 not worth
have to part with
library // casual friends // come and go
read forget - keep always - keep at home
glad of having read but will never read again
will never buy but will read again and again
will buy but never read
love to talk about - will never discuss // dominiques statue
Beyond
behind the rainbow
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good, who want to make it big
to soar into
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good, who want to make it big
to soar into
Wintering
Wintering is shattering and desperate, because there can be no happy ending. Plath ultimately becomes the “Sylvia Suicide Doll” of daughter Frieda Hughes’ adult poetry, and the ghostly recipient of Ted Hughes’ tortured and bitter Birthday Letters. Wintering broke my heart and it will break yours, too.
On February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath sealed her two young children, Frieda and Nicholas, in their nursery and placed rags and towels in the cracks of the door and again in the cracks of the kitchen door downstairs. With her children crying upstairs, Plath gassed herself in the kitchen, just days after completing a first draft of the poem, ‘Wintering’ and after months of estrangement from her husband, the future Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes.
On February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath sealed her two young children, Frieda and Nicholas, in their nursery and placed rags and towels in the cracks of the door and again in the cracks of the kitchen door downstairs. With her children crying upstairs, Plath gassed herself in the kitchen, just days after completing a first draft of the poem, ‘Wintering’ and after months of estrangement from her husband, the future Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes.
dirt on ur mind
sunsets are so beautiful bcz the air is so polluted. the water we drink tastes so good bcz of the impurities it contains. life is interesting bcz of the troubles we face.
if we keep our house and our lives and our minds so clean and ordered ... we mights as well be machines
theres a u2 and a scorpions concert coming up. but i probably wont be able to see it. damn.
if we keep our house and our lives and our minds so clean and ordered ... we mights as well be machines
theres a u2 and a scorpions concert coming up. but i probably wont be able to see it. damn.
run out of words
suddenly, i have NO clue as to what i should write. i mean, as per my earlier resolution, i onbviously cant write what i am actually thinking, so now whatever I start to write feels artificial. stilted. forced.
like meeting someone you almost became close friends with and then discovered was a weirdo and had to stick to making PC with from then on. next time you meet them, its the awkwardest thing ... to rewind a relationship. i guess thats why they say that about friends and lovers and transitions between the stages!
and ive always hated making polite conversation. trying to guess what you want to talk about and spinning meaningless leaping majestic yarn about it for hours at and end. actually i must be pretty good at it cz im never caught out. most people think - atleast in the beginning - that i am exactly like them. its the mirror effect. and the ultimate smokescreen at times
lets see ...
a four weeks back my gran fell ill. i prayed like i'd never done before. then i fell ill. chicken pox. 3 weeks at home. totally solitary. i didnt see a soul. just read and watched tv all day long and survived on boiled vegetables once a day. what was scary was that for the most part, i enjoyed the solitude.
last week i joined work. since then its been a whirlwind of playing catch (up) with no pause to think. the ultimate opiate. get up at 5. get to the gym by 6. get to the desk by 9. work. class. rowing 3'ce a week. home work. movies to watch. books to read. money to worry about ... and in the middle of all that, my father arrived on thursday. he was visiting me for 2 days on his way back from germany. i dont think i have ever spent so long with him at a stretch and alone. it was sometimes profound, sometimes crazy. and sometimes nerve wracking. i saw him off on sunday and came back to the empty rooms. i didnt feel ... period. i was kind of numb. watched girl with a pearl earring and another movie. then my mom called. she asked 'baba chole gechhe?' i said 'haan ma'. she said 'mon kharap?' ... what a dumb question! well it broke the dam anyway and it took a while for the torrents to stop. i couldnt stop crying all of sunday and monday ... but by tuesday i was back to cool. last night i had class. we talked about the past. and illnesses. it was fun. i have written two the two girls i met at the party before i fell ill. ones about the movie watching club and the others about the rowing. i havent had any reply. a bit sad ... cz I was really looking fwd. but maybe they just havent read it yet ... and tomorrow is another day
like meeting someone you almost became close friends with and then discovered was a weirdo and had to stick to making PC with from then on. next time you meet them, its the awkwardest thing ... to rewind a relationship. i guess thats why they say that about friends and lovers and transitions between the stages!
and ive always hated making polite conversation. trying to guess what you want to talk about and spinning meaningless leaping majestic yarn about it for hours at and end. actually i must be pretty good at it cz im never caught out. most people think - atleast in the beginning - that i am exactly like them. its the mirror effect. and the ultimate smokescreen at times
lets see ...
a four weeks back my gran fell ill. i prayed like i'd never done before. then i fell ill. chicken pox. 3 weeks at home. totally solitary. i didnt see a soul. just read and watched tv all day long and survived on boiled vegetables once a day. what was scary was that for the most part, i enjoyed the solitude.
last week i joined work. since then its been a whirlwind of playing catch (up) with no pause to think. the ultimate opiate. get up at 5. get to the gym by 6. get to the desk by 9. work. class. rowing 3'ce a week. home work. movies to watch. books to read. money to worry about ... and in the middle of all that, my father arrived on thursday. he was visiting me for 2 days on his way back from germany. i dont think i have ever spent so long with him at a stretch and alone. it was sometimes profound, sometimes crazy. and sometimes nerve wracking. i saw him off on sunday and came back to the empty rooms. i didnt feel ... period. i was kind of numb. watched girl with a pearl earring and another movie. then my mom called. she asked 'baba chole gechhe?' i said 'haan ma'. she said 'mon kharap?' ... what a dumb question! well it broke the dam anyway and it took a while for the torrents to stop. i couldnt stop crying all of sunday and monday ... but by tuesday i was back to cool. last night i had class. we talked about the past. and illnesses. it was fun. i have written two the two girls i met at the party before i fell ill. ones about the movie watching club and the others about the rowing. i havent had any reply. a bit sad ... cz I was really looking fwd. but maybe they just havent read it yet ... and tomorrow is another day
songs and movies
another song i like a lot these days is 'the blowers daughter' by damien rice (featured in his album 'O' and in 'Closer'. I think its going to go down in my list of songs that sound like an audio big bang ... the other ones being jealous guy, purple rain, creep, feeling love
theres this song in pallbearer which i liked a lot ...
also got a long list of movies Q'd up that Im dying to watch and my dad got me 'raincoat'. so really excited about that! another movie I wanted to see but he couldnt find was 'bewafa' with ajay devgan (but ofcourse) and yuva (theres a song in yuva i like a lot)
theres this song in pallbearer which i liked a lot ...
also got a long list of movies Q'd up that Im dying to watch and my dad got me 'raincoat'. so really excited about that! another movie I wanted to see but he couldnt find was 'bewafa' with ajay devgan (but ofcourse) and yuva (theres a song in yuva i like a lot)
crazy
I heard this song on tv in an ad for DFS sofa's & i am for now totally in its spell!
The Closest Thing To Crazy
How can I think I'm standing strong?
Yet feel the air beneath my feet.
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?
How can you let me watch you sleep?
Then break my dreams the way you do.
How can I have got in so deep?
Why did i fall in love with you?
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been.
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen.
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known.
But I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know
That there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness, and being close to you
How can you let me fall apart?
Then break my fall with lovin lies.
It's so easy to break a heart,
It's so easy to close your eyes.
How can you treat me like a child?
Yet like a child I yearn for you.
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?
The Closest Thing To Crazy
How can I think I'm standing strong?
Yet feel the air beneath my feet.
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?
How can you let me watch you sleep?
Then break my dreams the way you do.
How can I have got in so deep?
Why did i fall in love with you?
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been.
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen.
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known.
But I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know
That there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness, and being close to you
How can you let me fall apart?
Then break my fall with lovin lies.
It's so easy to break a heart,
It's so easy to close your eyes.
How can you treat me like a child?
Yet like a child I yearn for you.
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?
holding back
Ive been offline for the last month ... I had chicken pox!!! Im recovered now but wont get time to write for a while yet, bcz so much piled up when i was down. also, im feeling a little 'off' from the blog. meaning for a while i dont feel like writing. i think i m a little unhappy with what i have been writing offlate.
primarily because, try as i might it gets personal - which is a big problem cz there are too many people who read it who i am friendly with but not personal with - which actually means everyone i know except 5 people. Somehow I am just not the kind of person who will be very revealing about myself. theres probably no one in the world who knows everything about me and there will never be. i cant conceive of being that close to anyone! and though i have gotten a lot of bitter abuse for it in the past, i dont see how my life, or my mind is anyone elses business. I dont think Im being a 'hypocrite' or deceitful if I dont sit down and tell everyone I know a whole inventory about myself!
anyway, I digress ... the second thing is that i found myself writing only when i am miserable or bitter and and it invariably comes through. and for as long as i have lived my miseries have gone round and round in circles around the same central theme ... whats the point tracing that same point in words as well. and theres a lot of anger and black thoughts directed at one or two particular people and till i keep writing about it i cant forgive or forget and till i do that it will keep spilling out on everyone else ... which is unpleasant and unfair!
which ofcourse doesnt mean the problems will go away if i take a break. or even that i will take a massively long break! but im going to take a break anyway. ill keep try to keep posting but probably wont write
primarily because, try as i might it gets personal - which is a big problem cz there are too many people who read it who i am friendly with but not personal with - which actually means everyone i know except 5 people. Somehow I am just not the kind of person who will be very revealing about myself. theres probably no one in the world who knows everything about me and there will never be. i cant conceive of being that close to anyone! and though i have gotten a lot of bitter abuse for it in the past, i dont see how my life, or my mind is anyone elses business. I dont think Im being a 'hypocrite' or deceitful if I dont sit down and tell everyone I know a whole inventory about myself!
anyway, I digress ... the second thing is that i found myself writing only when i am miserable or bitter and and it invariably comes through. and for as long as i have lived my miseries have gone round and round in circles around the same central theme ... whats the point tracing that same point in words as well. and theres a lot of anger and black thoughts directed at one or two particular people and till i keep writing about it i cant forgive or forget and till i do that it will keep spilling out on everyone else ... which is unpleasant and unfair!
which ofcourse doesnt mean the problems will go away if i take a break. or even that i will take a massively long break! but im going to take a break anyway. ill keep try to keep posting but probably wont write
the boy and the man
because he had not yet learned to make allowances
because he was still scared of the dark
because he still wanted his parents
because when i told him, he is not like other kids, he cant have his parents, he started asking
all the good people he met to be his parents
because he always embarrasses me
because he doesnt listen to me
because he keeps falling in love
because he wants to make friends
because like peter pan, he will never grow up
because like pinochio, he will never become real
because he always cries
because i cant make him see
this is how lifes meant to be
bittersweet
more sad than happy
so i killed the child inside
and left him locked up to die
but everyone in a while
i think his ghost survived
i killed the boy inside
and left the man to die
because he was still scared of the dark
because he still wanted his parents
because when i told him, he is not like other kids, he cant have his parents, he started asking
all the good people he met to be his parents
because he always embarrasses me
because he doesnt listen to me
because he keeps falling in love
because he wants to make friends
because like peter pan, he will never grow up
because like pinochio, he will never become real
because he always cries
because i cant make him see
this is how lifes meant to be
bittersweet
more sad than happy
so i killed the child inside
and left him locked up to die
but everyone in a while
i think his ghost survived
i killed the boy inside
and left the man to die
Zindagi
bahut socha
kuchh na samjha
bhul na chaaha
bhul na paaya
raat jo aasu rok lia tha
khud ko jo samhaal liya tha
dil tute, tute
maan na chhute
ek aasu sukh na paaya
re reh ke dastak de ta raha
usse unsuna kar diya
phir bhi bhulaaya na gaya
bahut socha
kuchh na samjha
bhul na chaaha
bhul na paaya
---------
saalo chaukhat par ruki rahi
aage raasta, takti rahi
ab ayegi, ab ayegi
zindagi
jab ayi yun ayi
toofan si banke zindagi
ek siski bharti shaam. chhor gayee zindagi
jab gayi, deep, taare, saas tak, bujha gayi zindagi
------------
chhor ayi
mur ke bhi na dekha
chhor toh ayi
par bhulaaya na gaya
kuchh na samjha
bhul na chaaha
bhul na paaya
raat jo aasu rok lia tha
khud ko jo samhaal liya tha
dil tute, tute
maan na chhute
ek aasu sukh na paaya
re reh ke dastak de ta raha
usse unsuna kar diya
phir bhi bhulaaya na gaya
bahut socha
kuchh na samjha
bhul na chaaha
bhul na paaya
---------
saalo chaukhat par ruki rahi
aage raasta, takti rahi
ab ayegi, ab ayegi
zindagi
jab ayi yun ayi
toofan si banke zindagi
ek siski bharti shaam. chhor gayee zindagi
jab gayi, deep, taare, saas tak, bujha gayi zindagi
------------
chhor ayi
mur ke bhi na dekha
chhor toh ayi
par bhulaaya na gaya
top five cute guys in film
watching love, actually, one on my fav movies and almost on the back of that, pride and prejudice, made me think of how gorgeous they both are and how tough it is to decide between them!!! so heres my top 5 men:
1) anthony hopkins
2) collin firth
3) hugh grant
4) liam neeson / alan rickman (tie)
5) gregory peck
and ofcourse - further east - saif, ajay devgan, big b, small b, uttam kumar. whats your list ur top 5 men / women (depending) ;)
1) anthony hopkins
2) collin firth
3) hugh grant
4) liam neeson / alan rickman (tie)
5) gregory peck
and ofcourse - further east - saif, ajay devgan, big b, small b, uttam kumar. whats your list ur top 5 men / women (depending) ;)
for you
God, Destiny, Soul ... whatever you call It. It. It moves in strange ways. i remember a time when seething in one of my famous r.b.t. rages i stuck out my tongue at a framed picture i had on my desk. i thought it was the end of the world. nothing could be worse. nothing could ever matter again going forward. i cried and i cried till i threw up. ill never forget ... i stood in the middle of my bedroom, with the non stop rain outside, held the post on the bed, and i cried. from the bottom of my stomach. i wish i could tell you, "but later after sometime had passed i realised it had all been for the best and i was thankful to It and Its divine vision". but nothing as corny. it wasnt the end of the world. and it wasnt the last time it happened. it went on. and other things came. worse, more terrible things. and after some time i was too tired to cry. too tired to care. after sometime, you get used to the most unbearable of things. time. the sharpest of pains dulls with its passage. its just shock, not grief that gets you so badly. once you get used to it, its a bit easier. now i can even laugh when i think of it. i can see the funny side ... just think! all i ever wanted had been to come to this country. and its in this country that i met the two people who first taught me to hate. first taught me that there are bad people and good people. evil people. the two men i hate most in my life. the two lowest dirtiest men in the world. it sounds funny. dramatic. corny. and i laugh.
moving on
i think that things cant be good all the time. most of the times things will be ordinary. boring? restful. regular. there'll be a few times when we will be happy, ecstatic, satisfied, excited, grateful, proud. loved, cherished. laughing, cheerful. sated. friendly, welcome, kind, generous, caring. some of the time we will be unhappy, devastated, restive, betrayed, cheated, let down, hurt, bored, illtreated, beaten, beaten-up, trapped, used. slapped full in the face. humiliated. embarressed. sometimes life will treat us fair sometimes it will be unfair. sometimes we will get more than we could ever give. sometimes we will get abuses for the smallest mistakes where we got nothing for all we gave. sometimes it will happen that the people you loved and cared for. fed. looked after. will turn around and tell us that we were just using them. because you stopped giving just one time. bcz people cant take as much as you give. they want more. they want everything. they want u. they want ur soul. sometimes you will be loved. for no reason. totally. completely. someone will be your friend. even if for a moment. unexpectedly. you will be succesfull. you will win. sometimes you will win. most of the times you will lose. in some ways you will be an idiot. in a few ways you will be brilliant. ull screw up. ull be good. the point is, in the end it all evens out. "nothing really matters". whatever it is will be compensated. somewhere sometime, down the chain. when i was in the US it would sometimes happen that i put some coins in the vending machine but nothing happen. id get mad enough to kick the machine. bloody chor. but 3 or 4 times i went to get a pkt of chips and i got two instead (bcz they would get stuck in the rings that way)
balance
there are times when i hurt. im hit. im down on my knees. broken. but then something bigger happens. to me or someone else and i come to know about it. to a child his parents divorce might seem like the end of the world. till his class mate loses his whole family in a car accident. it works in the reverse too. i knew this boy once who used to keep telling me that he had a devastating childhooh which he would never get over. he told me about it. and compared to our 'normal' childhoods. the kinds im used to ... i felt like laughing in his face. poor naiive little thing. he thinks that hurt! it depends on the angle in which you view the object. where your line of sight is coming from. or the time. when i have a toothache, it kills me. i feel crippled. i feel like i cant concentrate on anything else. ever. till this gets better. then i start reading something really good and suddenly i realise i had, for a stretch, forgotten all about my tooth. the tooth become the center of my body and my universe. at that time it feels like no other part of my body is that vulnerable to hurt. a headache is still bearable. a bad tummy is just a irritation. but a tooth. its overwhelming. but when i get a migraine, it all shifts ...
perspective
but whatever it is all this wisdom only comes after the fact. when the heat of feeling has cooled. when ur blue ur just blue. and nothing makes sense. and logic thrown at you then is just a pi the a. and all you want to do is throw it back at wiseguy's head!
moving on
i think that things cant be good all the time. most of the times things will be ordinary. boring? restful. regular. there'll be a few times when we will be happy, ecstatic, satisfied, excited, grateful, proud. loved, cherished. laughing, cheerful. sated. friendly, welcome, kind, generous, caring. some of the time we will be unhappy, devastated, restive, betrayed, cheated, let down, hurt, bored, illtreated, beaten, beaten-up, trapped, used. slapped full in the face. humiliated. embarressed. sometimes life will treat us fair sometimes it will be unfair. sometimes we will get more than we could ever give. sometimes we will get abuses for the smallest mistakes where we got nothing for all we gave. sometimes it will happen that the people you loved and cared for. fed. looked after. will turn around and tell us that we were just using them. because you stopped giving just one time. bcz people cant take as much as you give. they want more. they want everything. they want u. they want ur soul. sometimes you will be loved. for no reason. totally. completely. someone will be your friend. even if for a moment. unexpectedly. you will be succesfull. you will win. sometimes you will win. most of the times you will lose. in some ways you will be an idiot. in a few ways you will be brilliant. ull screw up. ull be good. the point is, in the end it all evens out. "nothing really matters". whatever it is will be compensated. somewhere sometime, down the chain. when i was in the US it would sometimes happen that i put some coins in the vending machine but nothing happen. id get mad enough to kick the machine. bloody chor. but 3 or 4 times i went to get a pkt of chips and i got two instead (bcz they would get stuck in the rings that way)
balance
there are times when i hurt. im hit. im down on my knees. broken. but then something bigger happens. to me or someone else and i come to know about it. to a child his parents divorce might seem like the end of the world. till his class mate loses his whole family in a car accident. it works in the reverse too. i knew this boy once who used to keep telling me that he had a devastating childhooh which he would never get over. he told me about it. and compared to our 'normal' childhoods. the kinds im used to ... i felt like laughing in his face. poor naiive little thing. he thinks that hurt! it depends on the angle in which you view the object. where your line of sight is coming from. or the time. when i have a toothache, it kills me. i feel crippled. i feel like i cant concentrate on anything else. ever. till this gets better. then i start reading something really good and suddenly i realise i had, for a stretch, forgotten all about my tooth. the tooth become the center of my body and my universe. at that time it feels like no other part of my body is that vulnerable to hurt. a headache is still bearable. a bad tummy is just a irritation. but a tooth. its overwhelming. but when i get a migraine, it all shifts ...
perspective
but whatever it is all this wisdom only comes after the fact. when the heat of feeling has cooled. when ur blue ur just blue. and nothing makes sense. and logic thrown at you then is just a pi the a. and all you want to do is throw it back at wiseguy's head!
top ten things i would wish for if a genie appeared
1) big house, mind blowing kitchen, 8 babies
2) someone sensible to talk to all the time / anytime
3) enough money to buy a few useless things, thoughtlessly ... once in a while.
4) to understand everything i want to understand. like me. like life
5) would like to say no one anywhere to ever suffer - but thats not possible i guess. so forgiveness. understanding. and that noones suffering crosses the threshold of bearability?
6) free books (i choose) for a lifetime (probably a attic library in aforementioned house - refer point 1)
7) free calls (whereever / whenever - i choose) for a lifetime ;)
8) free hols (whereever / whenever - i choose)for a lifetime ;)
9) a big dog. or a any dog (except a spitz)
10) one perfect lilly - a canna lilly, pink and orange. in a white velvet lined box
what would you wish for?
2) someone sensible to talk to all the time / anytime
3) enough money to buy a few useless things, thoughtlessly ... once in a while.
4) to understand everything i want to understand. like me. like life
5) would like to say no one anywhere to ever suffer - but thats not possible i guess. so forgiveness. understanding. and that noones suffering crosses the threshold of bearability?
6) free books (i choose) for a lifetime (probably a attic library in aforementioned house - refer point 1)
7) free calls (whereever / whenever - i choose) for a lifetime ;)
8) free hols (whereever / whenever - i choose)for a lifetime ;)
9) a big dog. or a any dog (except a spitz)
10) one perfect lilly - a canna lilly, pink and orange. in a white velvet lined box
what would you wish for?
the forest
do we ever grow? do we ever mature? learn? soar?
i flipped the pages of the journal i have written in since before i joined college and carried with me even if i havent written too often. how little i have changed. the same sly. the same naiive. same stupid insecurities. same tall pride. crippling egos high walls around. gauche, shy, bold, evil. the same gush (gawd i love byron). the same fears (what if they go away). the same guilt (barbs - i ran). the same longing for sleep. for escape. the same infatuation with wakefulness. the same hours. the same insomnia. same bitter coffe. dark choc. the books, the movies, the thoughts ... same basic patterns. the same doubts. same loneliness. no friends. so many friends. same missing home. missing him. waiting for him to come home. always. like all the other girls. homework. pujo. scoldings. beatings. even beatings. all those substitutes. all those false idols. all those dogs. all that price. for a fools quest. and now we are friends. such good friends. i love you. now we ar such good friends i can let go. i can go on. maybe i can even grow up ... ?
i flipped the pages of the journal i have written in since before i joined college and carried with me even if i havent written too often. how little i have changed. the same sly. the same naiive. same stupid insecurities. same tall pride. crippling egos high walls around. gauche, shy, bold, evil. the same gush (gawd i love byron). the same fears (what if they go away). the same guilt (barbs - i ran). the same longing for sleep. for escape. the same infatuation with wakefulness. the same hours. the same insomnia. same bitter coffe. dark choc. the books, the movies, the thoughts ... same basic patterns. the same doubts. same loneliness. no friends. so many friends. same missing home. missing him. waiting for him to come home. always. like all the other girls. homework. pujo. scoldings. beatings. even beatings. all those substitutes. all those false idols. all those dogs. all that price. for a fools quest. and now we are friends. such good friends. i love you. now we ar such good friends i can let go. i can go on. maybe i can even grow up ... ?
happiness
i hate saying no to people i like, but though i can give everything i cant give myself. how do you give that you never had?
happiness? it was never my forte. its too light. too thoughtless. too airy. nsubstancial. like a lemon souffle. i dont like lemon souffles. i like rich dark chocolate.
a happy post. what is happiness. is is joy? or is it peace? or is it satisfaction? we cant hold it in our words, substantiate it. we cant even understand it. atleast i cant
what kind of happiness? giddy, early morning, im the king of the world happiness? tired and sated, end of the day - sinking to well earned rest kind of happiness? or just there inside me all the time - peaceful kind of happiness?
how does happiness show? how does it manifest? so often when im happy i am also pensive, thinking, brooding. and people ask my "why are you so gloomy". so often im so miserable im hysterical. laughing, joking, mirth edged with desperation. & people say "i love it when ur so bright".
so tell me what is happiness? how does it come through?
happiness? it was never my forte. its too light. too thoughtless. too airy. nsubstancial. like a lemon souffle. i dont like lemon souffles. i like rich dark chocolate.
a happy post. what is happiness. is is joy? or is it peace? or is it satisfaction? we cant hold it in our words, substantiate it. we cant even understand it. atleast i cant
what kind of happiness? giddy, early morning, im the king of the world happiness? tired and sated, end of the day - sinking to well earned rest kind of happiness? or just there inside me all the time - peaceful kind of happiness?
how does happiness show? how does it manifest? so often when im happy i am also pensive, thinking, brooding. and people ask my "why are you so gloomy". so often im so miserable im hysterical. laughing, joking, mirth edged with desperation. & people say "i love it when ur so bright".
so tell me what is happiness? how does it come through?
to be continued
once, deep in the night, as they all lay cuddled into their dreams, below and around me, i crouched on the edge, as often before, and wondered if it was worth the experiment. but the last thought that fell, echoing in the black wells of my mind was that, there was still so much to think about
at first sight
have you ever noticed how there are some people, with whom you are immediately at ease. you feel like you have always known them, in a metter of moments. it does not necessarily follow that you need to be immensely close to them, even like them or even be honest with them
but more importantly, have you ever noticed that there are some people whom you just NEVER get comfortable with? you go to their place every week, but you still dont feel at home there. you meet them every day, still ur ill at ease. when they crack a joke you wonder later - did i do something wrong - were they hinting at something? when they frown you worry. when you jabber out of control with them, you take stock as soon as you stop
thats what i meant when i said in the first second you meet someone you know, all you ever will know. your whole relationship, your whole association ... frozen into a preview in that one fraction of a moment. you just have to watch out for it
but more importantly, have you ever noticed that there are some people whom you just NEVER get comfortable with? you go to their place every week, but you still dont feel at home there. you meet them every day, still ur ill at ease. when they crack a joke you wonder later - did i do something wrong - were they hinting at something? when they frown you worry. when you jabber out of control with them, you take stock as soon as you stop
thats what i meant when i said in the first second you meet someone you know, all you ever will know. your whole relationship, your whole association ... frozen into a preview in that one fraction of a moment. you just have to watch out for it
scabs
i wonder why i did it? is it just idle curiousity that leads us to poking old wounds? i pushed down on the scab, i poked around the edges, i scratched at it ... its just a think dry mound of dead skin. its sealed tight. the festering, the rotting, the hurting ... sealed tight forever. below my thick skin.
i bowed my head and ran away from the courtyard. the other kids went on playing. u walked away without your half of the shame. so i took that with me too. its still here, in the palm of my hand. i sneak a look when i'm about to forget
a tiny bird flew down and hopped into the shade of the bush. bright and cheery. is it a robin? a lark? a sparrow? just behind her a trail of blood. below her a thorn sticks out. its a thornbird. it flies and hops everywhere with a thorn in its flesh. so that it can never forget. what it can never forget is that its the lowest, the meanest, the ugliest, basest, most useless of all creatures. god made it by mistake. but when he tried to undo his error, it was too late. so he gave him the thorn. so that he never forgets. so that he remembers to stay away from other birds. so that his shadow never falls on anything else. every now and then some kind soul will feel sorry for such a poor little bird. a hand will stretch out, with some morsels of food. he will simper. hop on. then peck at the hand till it shal bleed. he will thus ensure, that he is always hated. that he always gives pain to everyone who is nice to him. he is thr thornbird. the vehicle of night in gods days.
i bowed my head and ran away from the courtyard. the other kids went on playing. u walked away without your half of the shame. so i took that with me too. its still here, in the palm of my hand. i sneak a look when i'm about to forget
a tiny bird flew down and hopped into the shade of the bush. bright and cheery. is it a robin? a lark? a sparrow? just behind her a trail of blood. below her a thorn sticks out. its a thornbird. it flies and hops everywhere with a thorn in its flesh. so that it can never forget. what it can never forget is that its the lowest, the meanest, the ugliest, basest, most useless of all creatures. god made it by mistake. but when he tried to undo his error, it was too late. so he gave him the thorn. so that he never forgets. so that he remembers to stay away from other birds. so that his shadow never falls on anything else. every now and then some kind soul will feel sorry for such a poor little bird. a hand will stretch out, with some morsels of food. he will simper. hop on. then peck at the hand till it shal bleed. he will thus ensure, that he is always hated. that he always gives pain to everyone who is nice to him. he is thr thornbird. the vehicle of night in gods days.
rainbows, sunshine and clouds
behind the rainbow
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good
to soar into
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good
to soar into
Shadow
my shadow
uv always been
in my first fright
i ran from you
but you stayed
stuck to me, always right behind
you read what i read
you heard what i heard
i ...
in my morning
still so full of 'i'
desperate to be different
aching to for a voice
i ran from the world
and you stuck on behind
i stamped on your thin frail feet
i hit out at the shimmering face
i did all i could
till u hated me
now noon is past
im marching behind
im stuck to you
my shadow
you ...
in your morning
still so full of 'i'
desperate to be different
aching to for a voice
you're running from the world
and im stuck on behind
i shout out
my voice dull with age
theres nothing where we're headed for
but you only hide
ur hiding from the waves of my voice
ring out from the center of my void
u hide ur eyes from the light rays
that come out of my darkness
u dont wanna know
where u will go
dont wanna see
whats happened to me
my shadow
so much more real than i could ever be
my shadow shines
im only dark
my shadow
has substance. im empty and fake
my shadow stretch longer, longer, longest
uv always been
in my first fright
i ran from you
but you stayed
stuck to me, always right behind
you read what i read
you heard what i heard
i ...
in my morning
still so full of 'i'
desperate to be different
aching to for a voice
i ran from the world
and you stuck on behind
i stamped on your thin frail feet
i hit out at the shimmering face
i did all i could
till u hated me
now noon is past
im marching behind
im stuck to you
my shadow
you ...
in your morning
still so full of 'i'
desperate to be different
aching to for a voice
you're running from the world
and im stuck on behind
i shout out
my voice dull with age
theres nothing where we're headed for
but you only hide
ur hiding from the waves of my voice
ring out from the center of my void
u hide ur eyes from the light rays
that come out of my darkness
u dont wanna know
where u will go
dont wanna see
whats happened to me
my shadow
so much more real than i could ever be
my shadow shines
im only dark
my shadow
has substance. im empty and fake
my shadow stretch longer, longer, longest
Lullaby III
ill sing you songs of pain
ill sing to you of love and hate
life and death
bitter regret
ill sing you lullabies
that would be sure to make you cry ...
but happiness ...
what do i know of that
id sing silly songs
made up in my head
if i try to sing
of happiness
ill sing to you of love and hate
life and death
bitter regret
ill sing you lullabies
that would be sure to make you cry ...
but happiness ...
what do i know of that
id sing silly songs
made up in my head
if i try to sing
of happiness
yesterday rolls past
why is it that some people irritate me so much that i will go to any lengths out of my way just to avoid them. in the process i even end up hurting those i do care about. why cant i accept people the way they are. why does everything have to be all the way or nothing. why cant i make casual friends. why does it have to be people ud give ur life for or nothing at all.
why are there so many distances, so many walls between people in todays days and age. why must we feel so ashmamed because we care about someone. we gaurd every feeling, we regulate each instinct and whatever filtered little bit escapes, we couch in a million disclaimers.
such a tiny handful of people in this world who we really can call friends in the true sense. that we can care for. those who make us happy. those who we cant banish and punish and be angry with. or stay angry with. and that those few too we keep chasing away. playing games with. why?
i miss u like crazy today. i need to talk to you. i wish i cud talk to you. both of you. together. but time and life had pulled us so far apart. we dance behind masks.
lately its been hitting me like never before. yesterday is over. a chapter of our lives, an era is over. if this was a book, this would be where the would put in a pretty design and write a big curly lettered BOOK 2 ...
at the back of my mind theres a roll of snap shots that come to mind. walking home from school in the rain. the hymnbooks. atmodya bhavan. suji playing before assembly, rimli playing the marchpast drums. the enclosures. the nursery park. kavita pavamani. making fun of people without saying a word. JT ... the graveryard. the nightouts. sauces old house. the tea shop in lake mkt where we called sauce for the first time after we heard about uncle ... how i was playing tricks - saying i didnt have money. patrick swayze at the grand. goose. anin, bhattu. the whole day trip to nrityagram. sauce in the bus gaali-ng those women ... sebs shouting. u as usual bitching about me ... its always motts whose fault it all is. slapping sauce that night ... and now Zachary George Simon. one day he will be a full complete human being. can you imagine? wud you have thought we cud do such things sitting somewhere in the tree in nursery patk? we've come such a long way ... made suicides, children, bad affairs, marraiges.
why are there so many distances, so many walls between people in todays days and age. why must we feel so ashmamed because we care about someone. we gaurd every feeling, we regulate each instinct and whatever filtered little bit escapes, we couch in a million disclaimers.
such a tiny handful of people in this world who we really can call friends in the true sense. that we can care for. those who make us happy. those who we cant banish and punish and be angry with. or stay angry with. and that those few too we keep chasing away. playing games with. why?
i miss u like crazy today. i need to talk to you. i wish i cud talk to you. both of you. together. but time and life had pulled us so far apart. we dance behind masks.
lately its been hitting me like never before. yesterday is over. a chapter of our lives, an era is over. if this was a book, this would be where the would put in a pretty design and write a big curly lettered BOOK 2 ...
at the back of my mind theres a roll of snap shots that come to mind. walking home from school in the rain. the hymnbooks. atmodya bhavan. suji playing before assembly, rimli playing the marchpast drums. the enclosures. the nursery park. kavita pavamani. making fun of people without saying a word. JT ... the graveryard. the nightouts. sauces old house. the tea shop in lake mkt where we called sauce for the first time after we heard about uncle ... how i was playing tricks - saying i didnt have money. patrick swayze at the grand. goose. anin, bhattu. the whole day trip to nrityagram. sauce in the bus gaali-ng those women ... sebs shouting. u as usual bitching about me ... its always motts whose fault it all is. slapping sauce that night ... and now Zachary George Simon. one day he will be a full complete human being. can you imagine? wud you have thought we cud do such things sitting somewhere in the tree in nursery patk? we've come such a long way ... made suicides, children, bad affairs, marraiges.
the end of the affair
read the end of the affair on flight. what skill. what mastery. i dont remember when i was last so impressed. the closest was probably when i read 'meyera jemon hoye' somoresh mojumdar. what are these men made of who can speak about their fellow humans so well?
'virues which are merciful nor weave snares for the failing'
again its about expectation. i thought it wud be nothing great. it was such a pleasure to find i had been so wrong.
its one of those books which humble you. as anyone who has ever dreamed of being a writer. of anyone who has had ambitions in the field being human, living, thinking, understanding life.
on the lighter sight ... the very cute flight attendant. whom i had first mistaken for the pilot. there are so few truly good looking men :)
'virues which are merciful nor weave snares for the failing'
again its about expectation. i thought it wud be nothing great. it was such a pleasure to find i had been so wrong.
its one of those books which humble you. as anyone who has ever dreamed of being a writer. of anyone who has had ambitions in the field being human, living, thinking, understanding life.
on the lighter sight ... the very cute flight attendant. whom i had first mistaken for the pilot. there are so few truly good looking men :)
marraige
its a art. when my mom is there the house magically takes a home like look. its beautiful. comfortable. try as we might we cant keep it that way.
i listen to him on the phone with the plant. dedication. razor sharp. always solving.
i had heard a story of when a brilliant scientist received a proposal from a beautiful actress ... what is we have children with my charm and your brains. my dear, what if we have a child with my charm and your mind.
one of each. both paths from the fork, illustrated. theres nothing as acid as failure. old wisdom learned from dad: one man comes first. all the rest are failures. old lessons are hard to unlearn.
marraige. family. human affection. human passions. human frailities. humanity ... who needed the atom bomb ...
i listen to him on the phone with the plant. dedication. razor sharp. always solving.
i had heard a story of when a brilliant scientist received a proposal from a beautiful actress ... what is we have children with my charm and your brains. my dear, what if we have a child with my charm and your mind.
one of each. both paths from the fork, illustrated. theres nothing as acid as failure. old wisdom learned from dad: one man comes first. all the rest are failures. old lessons are hard to unlearn.
marraige. family. human affection. human passions. human frailities. humanity ... who needed the atom bomb ...
the tombsmen
why do i feel so sad? its quiet. i can feel their voices in the tomb like silence. they are life. they are alive. the ma's and the munal's of this world. they are love. they are life. they are home and family. we? battle our theories and intellectual thoughts. talk of work, books we read. movies we saw. share the additions to our scrapbooks on life since we last met. pregnant with the things we dont know how to say. we look at eachother like you look at your reflection while you brush your teeth. to siamese for comfort. there: thats how that wrinkle will form, then. yes: thats the passion i once felt for a name. what will you say to ur self from thirty years before? lookout? watchout? beware? what will you say to your self from tomorrow? is this all? this is where it leads? life is such an anticlimax ...
we are shadows. ghosts. missing some element of the human. gsaping for some genuineness you feel so easily. there. thats it. you feel. do we ever feel? we only watch. standing in a corner of our frozen hearts, our cold mind watches ...
we are shadows. ghosts. missing some element of the human. gsaping for some genuineness you feel so easily. there. thats it. you feel. do we ever feel? we only watch. standing in a corner of our frozen hearts, our cold mind watches ...
Death
for one and all
big or small
death awaits
at unknown gates
so let us walk out
at our own command
meet the foul foe
down below
now. here. at will
by our own way. by our own time
come.
let us lay down to to die.
big or small
death awaits
at unknown gates
so let us walk out
at our own command
meet the foul foe
down below
now. here. at will
by our own way. by our own time
come.
let us lay down to to die.