idle

does it feel like you are living your life in third person?

 

 

leaving...left.

“...cant take my mind off you…till I find somebody new.”

...

Oh look there is the chameleon again. Hops from one tree to the next, wears a blue today a gree tomorrow…no wait there was a red and a yellow in between as well.

He takes the same routes, follows the same channels. Learns new tricks everyday…stings you today…yes you, and you there on the left wait till he stings you tomorrow..

Did you see the chameleon hop? He is coming right behind you, he will sit right besides you. 

the moment you turn he will hop out, leaving you behind...he will hop out leaving without you.

...

...

Ek din ka rishta tha,

Ek pal ka sath,

Is lambi zindagi me bhoolna…

..tujhe bhoolna bas ek lamhe ki baat.

...

...

"Did I say I loathe you, Did I say I want to leave it all behind?"

fuck you.

the ragpicker

There is this picture. Of me standing, of him standing with his back turned at me at a very distant point, looking away. Looking away from me, possibly walking away from me.

When was the last time you heard a duet and smiled? When was the last time you could say for sure that those lines were sung for you? ages ago? 

It has been ages since she was loved back. Like a rag picker, she walked on roads catching glances, collecting smiles. Those hints of love that were passed on to her, she hogged onto them and lived entire life spans.
There was this high that she was addicted to. She tried different things, alcohol, melancholy and meaningless sex. She whored out. She holed out. Nothing, just nothing would work.

It is always easier to make some noise to defy that innate silence that has become you. But then there will be someone who is walking arms in arms and looks at you and smiles. You have to walk alone, like always. you will walk alone.

....

...

there should be someone who smiles when you smile, 

who sheds a tear when you do. 

who holds you tight.

who knows for sure that you belong, who knows for sure he belongs. 

there should be a love story. 

....

just too high on mush tonight. will wake up hungover from the spoils and then get-over it the day after.

...

Lost.

..Lost in you, lost in your embrace, lost in your thoughts, lost to your thoughts, lost to you…

Lost in the books I have read, lost in the characters, Draupadi’s strength, Dominique’s belief, Cathy’s love, Maya’s eccentricity. Lost in melodies, the mysticism of whirling Sufis, the dhols and the tablas, the violins and the guitars. The sky, the wind, the wings, the bike.

Lost in your words, lost in your smile, lost in your hands, lost in your stubble, lost in the hair.

The pale pink lips pumped to red seductresses. Red laces, pink thongs;
the heart, wrenched, eroded, crumpled, re-garnished, and resurrected?

“Nothing excites me anymore.”

“ you are either In ‘deep’ love or are insane; do you have suicidal thoughts?”

Find me. 

kaaga re kaaga re mori itni araj tujhse chun chun khaiyo maans
khaiyo na tu naina more, khaiyo na tu naina mohe piya ke milan ki aas..

-Nadaan Parindey

Rockstar.

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. 

she packs  nonchalance and charts her path to disgrace with every turn of the page.

whatever.

have you heard crash and burn by savage garden?

no, nothing too special about the song, nothing remarkable. 

but when you hear it after you have spent the worst week of your life, when the ikka-dukka people who were there at your lowest (who are immune to all your tantrums,cusses and love) also manage to not turn up, it reads itself as God's-book-of-unattainable. 

whatever.

We oft repeat mistakes. The fickleness of the human mind and the ability of repair over time make an ass out of us, repeating the same things over and over again, thinking things will magically work themselves out this time around.

But given the starfish’s memory that most of us have, one also forgets that when a sequence is repeated the end will be the same as it was the first time over.

But no, we still go out in the rain, wet our jeans, splurge in the mud and then swear to god I am not, never, EVER, going out in the rains again. But then, when it rains again, the sweet smell of the earth hypnotises you to go back in there.

ACT 1:

 ACT 2:

loop...

We are silly.

I am silly.

Period.

rant-2

there is nothing much to say. nothing much to do. work is rehab i guess.

mind becomes numb till the day draws to a close.

having said that, de-addiction should have been easier. 

i tell myself that the worst is over, but i turn around to find that the rot is still left.

I am still left. still bereft. 

rant-1

I looked yonder, I looked away.

Far into the darkness I looked far, further away.

No…why am I even trying the words will not rhyme. Wasn’t I told before that there is no music left?

There is so much that I have to tell. It is not about a broken heart, it has been broken for eons now. It is like that unknown, unwanted part of me that invariably sticks to me all the time. I cannot put my finger on to it as of now. I can’t at all. But there is something that has been harrowing onto me.

I don’t have sleepless nights anymore I keep busy all the time. I want to shy away, get away run away. It is not about things that bother me. it is me.

There is this part of me that hates me. I hate the eyes, the skin the smile. I hate it more because it is pretty. I don’t like pretty anymore.

I see no purpose of pretty. There is putrid black in it.  Like a mask that I invariably, inexplicably keep wearing.
 My only hint of salvaging me from the darkness from total, ineffable stupor, is something that I have let go off.
 *I took the cure for happiness* where do I go from here?

Mornings turn into nights and make complete days that turn into weeks and months. There is total mayhem, total anarchy during the days. I am a completely different person; probably that is why I should steer clear of the nights. It is the darkness and the distant noise that reminisces of the chaos of the day, in which I come face to face with something that looks foreign to me, something that was a part of me for longer than I can imagine. I have in front of me, a mirage of me from a not too distant past, looking out of the window with mist laden eyes but a smile on her face. Where to? Why to? When and how? I have a thousand questions but I cannot frame them. I cannot live with someone else’s diktat governing it.  

A thousand syllables make my entire day, the night falls amid silence. A thread that entwined the melody of a hopeful future now lies knotted inside a case.

There are a thousand rants and a thousand odes to that likeness of mine. I am so busy feeling sorry and sighing that I have lost track of the hurt. I have built it up so much in the system that I wake up every morning with that exact same thought.

No I don’t need help I can help myself. I am not asking for anything.
I am asking for a hug, I am asking for human emotion, I am asking for a human touch.

I am asking for reality, someplace where I don’t have to fake, where there is no room for lies.

I have no reason to be sorry, and that makes me feel all the more sorry for me. I am not sad, neither depressed. Anyone who knows me in real life cannot make heads and toes of the whole rant and I hate that. I hate that I can fake and convincingly so. I hate that you cannot look into my eyes and say what I am feeling. I wish I wore my emotions on my sleeve so that I did not have to hide behind the wall.

…..

free-fallin

no. nothing at all.
despondent i am not; am sure not obsolete.
am a little wasted, today am farther away from the complete.

i make these words rhyme,
i make it to places on time.
i make myself a little bouquet of plastic flowers;
i tell myself they smell just fine.

silence.

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


silence.

infinite silence.

"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.

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

die another day

NO
I am not ready yet.
I don't think I'd ever be. 

...lay close...

lay close to me for it is only us tonight...
lay calm for it is just tonight.
lay hushed for it is not 'real' tonight;
 lay with me, for it is life tonight.

got THIS link from Zave's blog. 

P.S. for people addicted to romance.

-------/--\--------

stuck in the middle. Asking for directions?

Cuz' whose to worry if our hearts get torn

When that hurt gets thrown

Don't you notice life goes on

selfishness?
honesty?

how much should a person be honesT?

how much selfishness is enough,required?

Krish once told me selfishness should either be a 100% or  a complete 0%

i was compltely lost when i asked him...how much selfishness is ok enough to  let by?

he said you are answerable to yourself.

so when you actually want to do something do it.

when you do not want to do it and you do it out of gratitude, or for the fact  that the  person will feel bad do not do it. you'd stress yourself out.

do it if you are a mahatma and are actually liking what you are doing. 

do not , ever be in the middle.

it should always be in the extremes, absolute. a total 0% or a total 100%.

i am lost. am stuck in the middle.
am in a soup because i am brutally honest but after doing that  i cant walk out.

i stay back and sympathise and stay back and reflect over the bluntness i have shown.

i am numb but i say selfish direct things and then lament.

i cannot walk out like nothing happend, i cant help but stay back and look at the face of the assasin, look back and see not hurt or anger but a look that is of shock... the how-could-you-of-all-people-do-it-look.

i am sick of working on, building, working over, smashing into, not getting upto, not living upto expectations. 

i am sick of people having expectations from me.

i am sick of not living upto them .

i am sick of all the smothering .   

i am tired of being the third person and living like a spectator of my life.

i cant get a hold onto to it.

it is running beserk without aim, away away away.

i am running into it...running away from something?

running towards something i do not know. 

i see a vast green field with loads of fruit trees, a huge red kite and a blue sky, the kite just broke off from the string, i am running after it to catch it. i run run run away far into the field, and the field is endless. there is no end to it. 

no beggining no end.

and when i finally look around i find myself lost in the green field.

which looks exactly like the one i was flying my kite in, but now i am not sure if it is the same one. 

honey now if I'm honest 

I still don't know what love is 

Another mirage folds into the the haze of time recalled

And now the floodgates cannot hold

All my sorrow all my rage

A tear drop that falls on every page

I'm sick of hearing my own lies
And love's a raven when it flies

Meet me on the otherside




oh bluebird come sing again