i can use somebody.

what good are you doing to yourself when you end up asking the same questions again. each day, all the time. melancholy is a vice, true but it is not all that is to you.
you  have known how to be happy. why does it happen then?
why does an art perfected over time just shudder and fade.

"O! Poor unthinking human heart! Error will not go away; logic and reason are slow to penetrate. We cling with both our arms to false hope, refusing to believe the weightiest proofs against it, embracing it with all our strength…

In the end it escapes ripping our veins and draining our heart’s blood; until regaining consciousness, we rush to fall into the snares of delusion all over again”.

-“ the postmaster “

Rabindranath Tagore

...

ek haton ki harqat hi sahi,

 ek palkon ka jhapakna hi sahi,

ek banti halki si hasi hi sahi, 

wo lamha hi to tha, ek lamha hi to hai...

ek lamhe ki bas zindagi, ek lamhe me hi guzar jana hai...

insomnia

wet pillowcases.

empty arms.

the never ending ache.

the dearth, the want, the fear.

dream-hungry empty weary eyes.

...........

 I've been here before

Sat on a floor in a grey grey mood
Where I stay up all night
And all that I write is a grey grey tune

...........

sing to me a lullaby, lull me to sleep. 

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







Desolé, if someone is prayin' then I might break out,
Desolé, even if I scream I can't scream that loud
...
So pray for me child, just for a while
That I might break out
Pray for me child
Even a smile would do for now

[photo]

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

i miss it

as you grow up you gain so much. gain experience, the tact of dealing wiht people. you learn facts and facets of your life and those of others. you gain a deeper understanding in to the complexitites of relationships. rather you are amazed at the different startas where realtionships stand. there are bizzare relationships. there are complicated realtionships. there are relationships whose only stnading point is the fact they thrive on silence. there are relationships that have two people talking so much that there is no silence between them as if afraid that silence is goint ot bring in barriers, create space for awkward questions to be asked.
there are relationships that have no room for questions and there are others that have no need for questions between them.
yes, i have had bizzare relationships.
weird ones, with people that have known and shown me different facets of me.
some showed me my place, some played along and still stay etched.
but yet, in spite of all this i miss being a child.
yes, today i miss being a child.

i miss not thinking twice before calling up somone. 
i miss returning calls,smses. 
i miss people shreiking at me when i do not. 
i miss having a friend. 
i miss being a friend.

i miss not acting like a cynic, 

i miss not reading too deep into lines that may or not mean all that i am looking into. 

i miss blushing and not regretting me acting like a child. 
i miss being the special one

i miss acting all stupid and not actually knowing that i did act stupid. 

i miss going up to a guy with a class filled up with people and sob and say sorry.
i miss having that strength. 

i miss the trust that i had that i wont be snubbed. 

i miss being snubbed like that and yet trying again. 

i miss being a child.

i miss it. 


...............
photo from another awesome blog spot here

the constant companion

aloneness is  a state of being that does not take in account your circumstances. 

a state of being that you might as well as may have been addicted to, a situation created by you or inflicted upon you or maybe not.

i post, re-post and re-re post my blog entries...sometimes because i hate piling up unread garbage, sometimes because i find myself feeling the same things all over again.....

here is a toast to the constant companion.... 

http://thismomentcalledlife.blogspot.com/2007/11/sometimes-i-feel-lonely-sometimes-when.html

the above said link is to the blog post of a very dear friend of mine... krish for me, SV for some and Gopal for someone special. And when i read this a few days back it was like he wrote my heart out...


and i added to that...


sometimes i feel lonely when the silence engulfs my shrieks,
sometimes i feel lonely when the only person witness to my life is me.
sometimes i feel lonely when i laugh at an incident that happened long back but cant share that laughter with anyone else.
sometimes i feel lonely when my eyes swell with tears, i hold them back farcing a bold face, 
i feel lonely when i am successful at masking myself.
sometimes i feel lonely when thoughts and feelings fill me, yet go un-noticed. 
 sometimes i feel lonely when i have so much to say yet remain silent. 
i feel lonely when life still goes on. 
sometimes i feel lonely.

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

alon-ness.

there is this monotonous song on your background, through the day; irrespective of the fact that you are asleep or awake, studying or whiling away time. 

and it does not really matter.

there is this sinking feeling, that is in contrast with the random smiles. 

there is an absence that is felt without even countering the presence. 

you miss somethign that you do not even know.

but it does not matter.

where hours go by, without having spoken a word, when days go by without having tidied the sheets.

but it does not matter.

where it does not make a dime's difference when you are undressed/under-dressed/overdressed.

and it does not matter 

when you are alive and dead at the same time,

yet again does not make a difference.

when you don't know how the day ends, but each second passed is etched painfully in your mind like on stone.

when you are so lonely that you can witness silence even in loud cheer. 

when even you don't even speak to yourself. 

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

one.

 it is that time of the year.
the MUSH time of the year.
and as i am not counting on any knights or princes or anybody for that matter to show on my door , i have, thus, planned to post sweet nothings on my blog.
not that i am the typically-pink-lovey-mushy kinds but then this time of the year makes me behave like one =|

the first: the greatest compliment you can give a girl. dedicate a song.
the ones topping my list this year are:

more updates when i can think of any...

happy mush everyone.

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

i spoke to silence.

 haan, khamosh raat me ek kahaani likhi,

teri meri jawaani likhi.

shabdon se na bayan hui,

kuch ehsaas piroye; kuch saanson k sahare likhi.

kyun roya tu?

kya kisine tera naam likha?

kahan kho gaya tu?

kya kisine fir ilzaam nahin pyar likha?

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

FINALITY

when things have been done, when things have been said...when bags are packed.

in those final  breaths before that impending end...

part 1:

Awake to the loneliest part of the day.

The sky is turquoise blue.

It is not day anymore or night yet.

Walk on the noisiest part of the road; People push as they march no-one notices the fall.

Wish it still was about the crossroads? Wish it wasn’t the dead end to the one way road, the end, is it?

It isn’t crossroads anymore; it is not about the destiny yet.

Do you want it tangy? You never wanted it to be sweet.

Is it bitter still? A little ketchup will do the trick. Doesn’t do it anymore, does it?

It just doesn’t taste the same anymore; maybe it is just about hunger now.” Ahem! Don’t they serve capsules here?”

Wish to be lonely and hate when it is silent. Wish to talk and talk; but just gasp and pass.

They laugh away, who is the jest? Mirrors talk? Do they?

You wish to be invisible, shut up and go but you don’t and just wait. Wait to be overwhelmed.

part 2:


Awake to the loneliest part of life;

Then take the walk back. Walk from a place which made a zilch of you; into a place, holding nothing of you.

Walk from alone-ness into total stupor. Walk from randomness into anarchy, into mayhem.

Walk into darkness from the only ray of light.

A blinding- glare waits at the end of the tunnel for you. Asked for that lamp with a little darkness underneath?

Exposed and raped but still untouched; were Looked at, and knocked on the heaven’s doors?

They stopped making philtre long back.

But where are the other bottles? Aren’t those marked poison anymore?

Do they call it by a name? Do they recognise it by a face? Is that yours?

Isn’t the brightest day light just a trick before it commences towards its final death.

Isn’t destination after all the last tea-shop before the dead end?

Were you smothered into the finality?


Aren't you scripting another beginning to another end?

un-requited love

YOU stood on the cross-road,

honey kissed eyes.

you saw me walking towards you,
smiled.

looked at you, spat,

"what the hell now?"

i saw in your left hand,

a white polythene and a pair of cute pink socks.

like a flash that evening ran in front of my eyes.

i remembered,running out of change,not buying, sighing.

you remembered.

before i said another word, looked up,saw the silhouette walk away.

I gasped,
.............you,the pair of cute pink socks and me.

"He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. 

I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,

And went with half my life about my ways."

CHOICE

some choices just have to be made.

the choice of being happy or unhappy.
the choice of closure.
the choice of letting it hang loose.
the choice of overiding your happiness for some-one else's.
happiness, which you know you are going to take away.
this done so that when you finally make the final kill the person has something to fall back onto. or more likely so, so that there are no negetive repurcursions;
no guilt.

small gestures of care shown to the other to mask your guilt for you.

some choices just have to be made.

the choice of shutting up.
shutting up even when you know you have been wronged, you have wronged.
shutting up even when you know you are being misinterpreted, misunderstood.
shutting up 'coz you do not care.
shutting up 'coz you do not want to mess situations which are already bad.


days pass without having spoken a word.
days pass without noticing people around.
days pass when you wake up unkempt, to unkept promises, un-met deadlines.
days pass you wake up, walk around, last the day, lay down and die. unseen.
you still make the choice of lasting through the day.
the choice of responding is still made.
lie is still chosen over truth.

some choices just have to be made.

blahed.

when do you realize that you are desperately home-sick?

1. when you have early-morning dreams of dining out with your family (and the annoying dadi).
2. when the cause of a headache in the morning is over-sleeping.
3. when you are extremely tired after doing nothing but wasting time.
4. when you call your mother the first thing in the morning and talk to her and you have this sickening happy feeling when she smothers you.

yeah, you then know you are desperately home-sick.

“कभी ख़ुद पे, कभी हालत पर रोना आया...”

कहीं किसी क आंसूं बहते रहे...

उन्हें न सम्भाल पाए,

अपनी नाकामयाबी पर रोना आया..

कहीं और चल दी हम...

छोड़ आए कुछ बीच राह में,

अपनी खुदगर्जी पर रोना आया..

सारा जहाँ से प्यार बटोरते रहे...

ना बांटा न बटने दिया...

अपनी मतलबी चाहतों पर रोना आया...

इश्क किया शायद हमेशा ख़ुद से ज़्यादा...

किसी और की मोहब्बत को समझ न पाने की,

अपनी इस न-समझी पर रोना आया...

न दिखी तेरी लाचारी, न दिखी तेरी तकलीफ...

न दिखी मुझे तुझमे मेरी पर्ची,

अँधेरी नगरी में बस्ती अपनी हस्ती पर रोना आया...

“कभी ख़ुद पे, कभी हालत पर रोना आया...”

न सुबह हुई...
न कल की रात ढली.
आज भी कल में रहते हैं,
जीने की कोशिश में जैसे, साँसें गिनते रहते हैं.

कभी उखडी साँसें,
कभी मंद सी हो गईं.
आज मौसम बी कुछ मंद सा है,
जैसे दबी दबी सी साँसें मेरी...

तूफ़ान की तबाही और उसके बाद सन्नाटा,
ये चीखती खामोशी कैसी...

in third person.

.the guy holding the girl's hand..looking far into her eyes whispering sweet nothings....in a corner table of the cofee house.

a great looking girl desperately trying to hold the attention of the guy who looks everywhere else excepting at her when she talks.

the old guy in his 40s with his wife looking at a young couple reminiscent of his youth.

.....and yeah me right there in the center of the crowd but not a part of it.

yeah it is me...the third person.

pass me a little salt :|

What is that blot on paper?
A neat handwriting revealing to you the deepest secrets the world could hold and just on that line when the hypothesis turns to fact there you have an ink blot. A tiny one, true, but a significant one nevertheless.
The food served is exceptional, presented right, but that little less salt ruins the main course.
One has the fantabulous dessert in the offering after a sumptuous meal but that one spice that you craved for is missing.
You get felt all over but the wink is that is missing.
Those moments when you crave for the attention you are carelessly walked over.
And when u could handle any thing under the sun you get the rock to pester you.
…….yeah can you just pass me a little salt?

The wait…

…The wait seemed endless. A new morning dawns and in no time dawn sets in. where does time go? Time runs at lightening speed, but the wait seems endless…

Every cloud has a story to tell.
A story of longing of hope of patience, of passion, of love and of wait,
But the wait seems endless.

There was a peculiar bond she shared with the clouds. No friends, no outlet to her emotions; but the clouds seemed to understand her. They reflected her emotions,
Her anger depicted by the gray clouds on the verge of bursting out, longing to shower down, longing to pour her heart out. But the winds seemed to blow them away. Her love, her happiness depicted by the woolpacks, promising her sun shine

Clouds wern’t one of the many signs that guided her life. She was complex but yearned for small gestures to brighten her day.
Yes she was waiting. Waiting for what? She did not know. Waiting fir whom? She never found out.

far away.

Liaisons with grief…
Going strong since eternity.
Lust masked amid love,
Despair draped in hope;
Obscure images registering a face…
A face: “far away “

A bittersweet sarcasm
Passion hard to fake.
Life torn and ripped apart.
And the Philter drained.
Obscure images registering a face…
The visage… oh so intangible.

rains.

could there be hope?
could there be light?
could there be anything that is bright?

life has just ceased to be,
and here,sets this melancholy
god sent rhe rain
what good did it serve
when misty eyes saw it all before
it drained away all that was left
for me to clench on hug and pair.
the clouds made it all grey

grey grey was all around.