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Showing posts from January, 2011
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silence.

intriguing,gorgeous,incorrigible,nasty,hasty,unnerving,unsettling,disruptive,impatient,avoidable.


silence.

infinite silence.

I am puzzled as the newborn child; i am troubled at the tide.

It is dusk already; I don’t even have your shadow to grasp onto. Your footprints on sand blown away by the arid wind…yes, it is the parched desert now. Not the garden where we once ran; ran wild and free with the horses. No, nowhere in sight is that bounty, nowhere at all.  There are no horses, no pigeons. There are scavengers now, all around me, eagles no butterflies anymore. Yes, there are carcasses…those of love, of the mere hints of it, of unsaid, un-kept promises.



There is another one, on that distant corner, yes, right there, that corpse is of an unkempt me.


"Did I dream you dreamed about me? 
Were you hare when I was fox? 
Now my foolish boat is leaning 
Broken lovelorn on your rocks, 
For you sing, 'touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: 
O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow' "
-song to the siren, Tim Buckley.
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i write sonnets on the papyrus and make tiny paper-gliders out of them.
they are carried into the unknown, inside that dark alley beyond which grows hope's tree.
your tree.

i hum the soft melody. your tune races,runs behind the flying wishes,blowing them onwards. these wishes,my flying wishes.

my voice, i feel, is heard; 
my writ,i know, read.



"loss"

"I stood; bereft."
I am still wondering if the emphasis is more on the letdown or the nostalgia. I am still wondering if the ego was hurt or the spirit wrecked.
I am at loss.
Don’t just stand there silent.  Ask me to leave. Let my leaving be worthy of your pursuit. Don’t just call me names. Scar me for life. I want marks as a testimony. If I can’t get love-bites; give me the bruises of a brawl. Don’t just ask me to leave. Push me away.
It is bad if you someone is ignoring you on purpose; worse if that someone is ignorant of the ignorance.

...................................................




she keeps running, running, running.

Wading through burnt-cracked-empty earthen ware, past the stained-crumpled bedspread, across the wilted urns, she enshrouded the names etched on the hand painted wall.
She walks, now, with a porcelain guitar. and you ask her where the music is?

funny things one does.

slow poison gives you the kicks. 
poison in large quantities makes you throw up. (read brings you back to senses and u realise that you didnt want to die a all) 
and if you have had the right concoction then you land up in the hospital.
they don't let you die when you want to.
really, they don't.

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if i LOVE a song too much or/and if that song is too special i don't listen to it. that maintains the charm of the song. the effect remains and the special song remains special.  when i like a song i listen to it too much, all the time through the day, and get over it. (e.g. i puke now whenever i hear  'mast mast do nain' or 'bol na halke' which i assumed that i will love forever.) 
so the true winners are those songs that don't  make me go swooning over them, they stay on the playlist and i learn to love them over the time. 
there are so many ways to get over a person, over an idea, over your false walls of ego.  this friend of mine had awesome th…

the diary entry.

January 6th, 2010. It was a normal day. I woke up 15 minutes earlier than usual. I made tea, while I watched mummy rushing, packing lunch for me and papa,fixing breakfast and also listening and nodding to everything that I said in those precious 15 mins (the end of which I spilled a lil on the kitchen slab and dirtied it, but that is ok). I walked a little slower today. The train arrived before time. At work I did not put my headphones on through the day, instead I called up the receptionist and told her that it was A.R.Rehman’s birthday today and that we should play his songs (we have in-house music in the office), heard him in the first half, heard Mohd. Rafi and Kishore Kumar in the next. I laughed at Marathi jokes which my teammates happily translated for me. I cracked jokes, I finished both the cups of coffee the office boy served. I made less mistakes today, finished my work before time. I heard zee-hale-miski on my way back and was completely engrossed. For dinner, mom fed me( awe…

random gyaan.

-If he is not having sex with you he is getting it from somewhere else. Unless you know...umm...well. Well you know what i mean =P
-NOTHING is complicated. it either IS or IS NOT.
-If he does not call you, HE DOES NOT WANT TO!
-People have been telling you to get a man? LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Probably you should!
-Bad romance and sad songs are hard to move past, but all you have to do is push the 'next' button.


yes i am guilty of watching a lot of chick flicks over the weekend alongside re-runs of HIMYM.

"Oh my God, they killed Kenny! ...You bastards!"

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last week of dec-first week of jan  is a very very demanding time, there are SO many pressures.

-the pressure to have fun,
-the pressure to be pressurized to bring a change in the way you live,
-the pressure to make new year resolutions all because of a crappy change in date.

i see NOTHING happy about it.

Yes, It is THAT time of the year when whatever religion or region you belong to you have to send crappy-senty-cheesy messages to people reminding them (as if they are from the other sister milky way)(if there is any) that it is new years and that you should be happy. Achyut rightly pointed out in his status msg (yeah you have to post crappy cheesy status msgs on your FB account, mine wasn’t and ok even his wasn’t and which is why it is getting mentioned here) that there is tremendous pressure to have fun this time of the year. I ask why? Ok, so what if I have lived all my life like a loser with very few friends, hating and running away from crowded places all the time, and, that, those…