28 May 2017

The Introvert’s dilemma

You have changed houses , schools , cities towns villages and in time lost 'friends ' , 'almost friends ' (?) All of this done so many times so that the entire cycle of making friends and holding onto them tires you out.
So you stop trying at all . Nothing feels permanent as nothing is permanent. 
The cities you once called 'your own ' have now changed beyond recognition . 
What is home after all ? 

An amalgamation of all the small towns you grew up in? Your subconscious mind combines them all together to form one giant mega-city which is  an ever growing weed ridden farmland because you haven't settled any where yet; you haven't put in roots.

What is a home city ? 
A place where you have worked/are working in . A place where you may stay in as long as works keeps you and then you cut ties and are kicked out. 

Which is your home city ? A place where your parents live ? The place you called home once and you spent the better part of your  student life in? 

That was years ago now . You are not the same, the city is not the same; both of you grown up and grown apart.  No one knows your name there , the streets have turned into wide roads and the charm has given way for chaos . 

How sad it is to get lost in a city you once , less than a decade ago owned. Or did you?

What is home ? A place where you park yourself for a few years only to leave again , or that place where you go after leaving everything behind . Go for a fresh start go to get out of a rut. 

Where is home ? Is it where you are, or where your heart is ? 

Which is 'your ' city after-all ? Or all we are doing - rather all I am doing is passing through . 

It is true that that the city does not belong to you ; you belong to the city . If that is true who and where do you actually belong ? And does anyone really want you there ? 

Will anyone want you ?

10 Apr 2017

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. She was never a keeper, always brooding, pointing out mistakes and then losing interest midway leaving herself in the lurch without even realising it.

It is rude to talk about yourself but I guess when no one is listening it does not really matter.

6 Jan 2017

Nevermind.


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 someone else. A little too used to maybe. She never had time for him before, now she made that time; sadly time was not theirs.



Strangely enough, one can fake for a day or two at max. The hurt and insecurities; the aching need to go out and lay claim on that person does not go. Like the sea returns everything you throw in it; the hurt and the pain is returned back with more fervor than ever before.