no point of this point.

Hello there, you seem new here. Have not seen you around before. Are you revisiting?

Make yourself comfortable. Viki is asleep right now.
I am Viki's soul. A twisted, convoluted, whisky soaked, rum glazed, crazed and unfazed jealous soul. I am her, she is me; I am him and Him.

I am an asexual, non-entity. Her ‘point’ if you may. Her emotional center of gravity.

Sometimes functioning as the Narad muni between her analytical skills and her emotional standing. Sometimes am the light bearer and other times her confidence beater. I am deep seated inside her. Sometimes in her gut, her fatigued bowel turning round and about die to her anxieties.

It is not easy; melancholia has claimed lives of many good times, every big day clouded by a dark grey cloud bearing doubt. Mistakes are pointed out and noted while the applause goes out of focus. Well in all these years the applause has died down and she has let go. Friends have reduced from a trickle to none at all. I don’t blame them you know. …


He had a volcano inside him, waiting to erupt...his blemishes - the heat waves that escaped. She ran a finger over his blemished skin; it was not unknown territory.
They have both been there before. Sharing a bed, memories; more was unsaid than said. More in-satiation than bliss. He was tired of caring too much for her. She needed him more than she ever had before.
His skin didn't twitch anymore on her touch. He had gotten used to her, a little too much maybe.
She ran a finger on his blemished skin, claiming him almost. If not for real, maybe for that night. Or maybe even for that tiny bit of a second when her finger left a faint impression on his skin. Each impression on his skin turned into a tear in her eyes. She was comforting him, his eyes reluctantly heavy with sleep that had been eluding him; she was in turn comforting herself with those tiny victories.
Time was not to wait anymore. He had moved on, not needing her by his side. Used to the fact that she was going home to so…


गर तुझे ये लगे के तू ज़िंदा है, तो तू है ज़िंदा।
गर ये तेरा सवाल है, तो तू है नही।मुझसे न पूछ तू तेरी तलाश में कहाँ भटके।
तेरे मंज़िल का रास्ता तेरी परिस्थिति के बाध्य नहीं।तू ढूँढ उस आवाज़ को, जो कहे तुझे है अब चलना।
इन पहाड़ों में नहीं, तुझे अपने अन्तः मन में है उसे खोजना।तू निकल अब वहाँ जहाँ जाने की किसी को इजाज़त नहीं।
तू लौट के आ वहां से जिसके बगैर तेरी कोई पहचान नहीं।


" keep writing, please?"
" I can't, I need a muse. "
" But you had one, didn't you?"


It's the blaze across my night gown
It's the phone's ring
I think last night (you were in my dreams)
You were driving circles around me

So what I do is, turn off the light. Turn the table lamp on, put my headphones on and blast melancholy music, close my eyes and weep; pretend I am on a sea beach, alone in the middle of the night. feeling sand beneath my feet, smelling the misty-salty winds, feeling my misty salty cheeks. I dance a little-like in a trance, realize what i am doing, laugh at my silliness and lay down.

I come back to my senses the morning after.

Crawling back to you

of favourite things

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”

Wuthering Heights. 

a song for my heart.

"What if I fall?"
"Oh my darling...what if you fly!"
-Erin Hanson
pure bliss is when a relationship can be surmised by these two sentences.