Wednesday, May 30, 2012


I have known long how to write in pain, how to wield a pen and churn out words from the depths of sorrow! But how to write when so happy? How to write in freedom and knowing and joy and laughter?! The 'highest' I have been in happiness is perhaps India winning some important match or perhaps some movie with sports in it. The exuberance - euphoria!!!! The Mexican-wave of joy! And there I am right now! Like a waving flag! ~~~
This is for those times when I would look at this blog - sometime in distant in future - when I would be past these times - when I would have long forgiven me and erred some more and would most probably be found patting my back for all these crazy times I've lived!
Here i'm throwing in the music that brought it all about!

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Some air!

The same place that makes one feel free, can turn around and suffocate you under the limitless sky. It is no freedom this when you are not free in will, but led by some vagrant need. Even if the feet that walked thus be yours and the acting hands be yours, until your mind is rendered incapable of thinking 'right'. That's what I mean in an earlier post where I ask ''are we what we do, or are we what we believe in''. I would like to think we are what we believe in, even though we have betrayed us. Actions are not always led by reason. Rather, as much as they are led by reason they are lead by frivolity, boredom, loneliness and such base 'states' we find ourselves in. I am conscientious enough to always be fair, and yet, while talking to my own self, while reflecting upon my own beliefs and actions, I do want to be truthful, so truthful so as to flesh out even the saving grace of my own conscience from me - unmindful of what conclusion my reflections lead me to.
I wish all this to end, drift away. I want to go back to my world, get drowned there if I have to. But just away from this quiet, quiet need, the aftermath of which almost chills my bones.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

mind order


For once. 

Get some rejection letters
Get some acceptance letters



You were keen to dream, let's see how keen you are to achieve. But always know that your life is not being lived on a stage. Not till you choose to debut anyway.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

As I stand here

Rush of blood to the head. It sunk in just now. And I don't like it. The feeling is not that of longing, but fear. In plain words, I'm anxious. 

I stand here but my knees might give away. I stand here in mute appeal. My eyes search the web from across the world. I'm looking for a sign of life, how ever faint, but all I see is a temporary suspension, of belief and words and life itself in me. 

Mind won. It won and I'm all the poorer for it.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

last night's lullaby

Enough of writing about rain pelting on my window. Enough of picking flowers in my head, colorful flowers in lavender and white and pink - lillies and jasmine and sunflowers.. enough of my love of words, enough of me, enough of reasons. Enough! Why doesn't all of this end and leave me to me? LEAVE!
Frustration finds no carefully chosen words when it reaches its zenith. I must sleep now. I must put myself to sleep. Good Night.
PS: Are we who we want to be, see ourselves as, the person we really, intrinsically know ourself to be, or are we what we do?

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Of leaving and echoes and foreign lands

What is it that I am always leaving behind? And what is it that I seek? There is so much leaving to be finished; I feel like I'm collecting my belongings and packing for another set off all the time. All the time, as I see it. Even before I'm sure of my arrival, I'm certain of going away again. Why wouldn't I rest? What do I seek and why should I? The semblances I live and live to the best I can, believe me. But it comes down to nothing, nothing! Zilch! Pray, I do not complain, I am just weary at times like these.

"My heart is mute - My heart is mute" - Jane Eyre

You saw the madness in me - the madness that found no shore as I beseeched the universe reveal to me where to take it. It hasn't found an answer, only an echo in return - cursed like Echo were. And cursed not once but twice! In never to have the first word and that her only love qualified unrequited. I find myself in one of those echoes that find their identity only in melancholy. But I am not pained as much. Not yet. :)


Must I mention, the two pieces have as little to do with one another as two foreign lands could ever have. Except an occasional hitchhiker perhaps. :)