27 Sep 2011

long nights - 2

I got off the train and from the other door to the same compartment got off another girl, almost my age.
He was standing there, he took her luggage first and then took her hand into his and broke into a smile. She beamed back at him...they walked in front of me hand in hand telling each other stories of how much they missed each other, how much she missed him was evident from the fact that she could not take her hands off his back...
I suddenly remembered she had asked me what the next stop was. She had been waiting on the door for more than 30 minutes...it was worth the wait. Sure was.

I took a taxi and headed back home. 

17 Sep 2011

long nights

I wish to see you once before the end. I wish to meet you for the first time again. I wish to unlearn all I know, of you of the world. Of everything I ever knew. Let’s make new beginnings. Meet me like you will meet a stranger. I wish for a new dawn. I wish this night ended.

But it does not work that way does it? I can’t just wish for things to happen. 

13 Sep 2011


So your first language is your mother tongue?

What is the first language you choose to ask a question to another person when you travel in the first class?


Yes, I write in English, I think in English and the language I am most comfortable in is English, no doubt, but when I have to ask what station I am on, I will ask the question in Hindi, it is just how it is. 

This lady in the train was reading a ‘gruhashobha’,  was wearing a purple lipstick, with gaudy eye makeup. I was trying to figure her out, she then turns around and with a thick Bihari accented English asks me what station it was and I was flabbergasted.

I couldn’t speak. She assumed I didn’t know the language. 

She got off anyways.

I am too shallow. meh!

7 Sep 2011

2 Sep 2011

ah well.

this one : i love to hate to love to hate.

this one : i wish i could love enough.

this one : i wish i loved less.

this one : i wish, loved me back. 

1 Sep 2011

dig a pit and bury yourself in it.

my dad just wants him to be qualified.
my mom...God knows what she is serious about, except in her obsession with cracking PJs and making my life a long standing one.
and my brother ogles at his 'female' FBfriends.

I may say a lot but I cant. wont. no one will listen.