The thing about memories is

they fade away but never really erase themselves.

They linger on in some part of the sub conscience, shape our reactions to situations and suddenly, out of nowhere stand right in front of you reminding you of a time you had chosen to put behind yourself.

The thing about memories is, you believe you're done with them, but you know you're really not.

Tragic, no?

The insignificant post

Laughter,
Light
Love
Life


But why do I fear then? 


Maybe, am tired of the old fight

Inspiration

I've been thinking on this subject for a while now.The term is often used loosely, but never explained enough. Inspiration is extremely subjective and even more personal. But we hear so many stories of what's inspired people through generations, that as overdone as this topic might be, it is still discussed with a tinge of novelty, excitement every time.
So what is it that I hear inspires people? Love seems to be the most common answer. Then there is family, a romantic involvement, a heartbreak, nature, the sea, mountains, beautiful locales... the list, not surprisingly is endless.

I'm a beach person, through and through. I love the sea. I can just sit and watch it for hours, listen to the slow rhythm the waves knit and just the very sound of water. I like the mountains too, for the calm, the serenity they have to offer- a complete contrast to the stormy sea that I personally favour, yet a subtle sweetness in its own way. But you know what really inspires me? People.

I could sit for hours facing the sea or spend a lazy morning on a hammock in the hills but I wouldn't know what to write or even think about if it wasn't for people. I like peace and I like the sense of isolation- infact it is more than necessary at times. But I draw my inspiration, my challenge, my love and my hate from people. Not to say, that I love their company at all times. However we underestimate the power to be social and yet be, but a mere observer to society's way of life. You know when I think the most? By the night, in the complete darkness of my room; on the road with heavy traffic while it's raining cats and dogs; in office while working on an excel sheet and talking to ten people at the same time.

This is the same reason I choose to spend fifty hours a week being a corporate slave (corporate whore, some might call it, but this aint a good time to be brutal). Everyday,while I tick things off my joblist, I acquire skills- these skill sets that are essential to a good life- marketing, working with people, management, leading, being led... oh there is so much to learn. Everyday, I interact with a large number of people- each of whom I wouldnt exactly name my 'loved ones' , but each of whom open my eyes to new reactions and expressions, without fail. And well am a marketeer- consumer behaviour is my be all and end all and I guess that's just why I know I'll stick to this line for a while.

I love people, I live on their reactions. I can go back to so many instances where I've said stuff only to get a reaction out of people-  to shock them; surprise them; thrill them; excite them. The variety of emotions are aplenty and the variations of expressions just awe-inspiring!

I like to be in the middle of the drama, the crowd, the party, the not-so-much-party, enjoy it, live it to the very fullest and then suddenly retreat, back to my darkness, to the comfort of my room or a windowsill where I can feel the rain and open my parrot green laptop and keep writing.

Its funny how the anti-society moods are driven by society and yet the anti-society moods are but, for the sake of society.

People- my challenge, my inspiration, my reality but the catalyst to my imagination.

~

Sepia Printed

A wooden frame that rots
Because of the memories it holds
Rusty ironed
Sepia
Of Stories, you'd once been told.

Black and white glimpses
Of a childhood gone and how
Do you believe in magic, still?
Do you fear the local clown?

For all those years,
You heard fables
Of talking dogs
And nomadic tribes

Did you ever think,
those years too,
Will become but a witch
Teasing you with memories sly?

The wooden frame ,
has more to tell
Unknowingly, decades had passed by
Slowly in the photograph,
You see your grandmother's eyes dry.

A clot in the heart,
as you remember her smile
And the little pranks you played
How she always liked your new sun-dress
Or the way you made your braid.

Through sepia and black and white,
Through childhood and gypsies,
Through fables of nomadic tribes,
You knew you'd lost that innocence, little.

~

You know what?

I am exactly 7 poems away from my final "manuscript".

So my target was June but I think i'll get there quicker and then wheeeeeeeee - send the final works to the "publisher" and we get rolling baby!

Personal target? I publish a book before October and then go for the Lit fest in Bali, this year. So what if i missed the one in Jaipur? I shall be broke but I shall go.

A very heartfelt thank you to people who actually care to read my stuff and who've literally threatened me to publish. I would have never  come out of the closet, otherwise. Errr..he writer's closet, not the other kind. Sick minded fools. ;)

Love and a lot more love.
~

The writer's song

She sees a whole new world
From somewhere inside of her
Reality spells boredom
But from the ordinary, inspiration she will spur.

She walks in the city,
with the traffic upbeat
But her mind's in the mountains
And her heart's with the beach.

She types away to glory
On machines named fruits
But there's ink on her mind
The sacred pencil, so divine.

Machines and wires
How unimaginative could those be
So she lives in her dreams
And dreams of what could be.

She talks with passion
About both politics and love
Secretly she slaughters
Your reactions to each of those above.

She'll tell you she's sorry
When she won't really be
But she lives on your reactions
So she can write about them in glee

She weighs her every word
With caution she speaks,
But you'll think she's so simple
Manipulated, you shall certainly be

She will kiss you with maddening intensity
Enamored, you feel?
Well, she was just knitting poetry
She didn't mean to sweep you off your feet!

She'll smile when you hurt her
Or indifference it could seem
Act upon all those contemporaries
You'd think she believes

But at night, when no one's looking,
she'll weep to her pillow
And her heart will ache,
A frightening deal.

She's a writer to herself
And her temporary muse you can be
Don't judge by the surface though,
There's volumes that you don't see

She's a poet in her head,
You don't know all that she can be
She'll trick you into anything,
Elusive? Ah well, she's a writer, you see.

~

Pause

Pause
Now, right here
Can I capture this moment
In just memory alone?

Memory that fades not
from the mind so selfish.
Memory that blurs not
But still has blunt edges.

Pause,
Cmon, stop thinking
Distractions, so many?
watch closely as my eyes
Pierce yours, so blindly.

I stare so curtly
Straight into those coal-like eyes
Brutal, they call my glance
But I'd given you many a chance.

Pause,
with me,
as I run my fingers through yours
And slowly, secretly let my mind wander off...

~

Train of Thought

I picked the last word I read before I opened this page and decided to document my train of thought. It's an interesting exercise because when I look back at this, am sure I'll be amused if not surprised. Next time, I'll do this in a perfectly peaceful environment with no background disturbance like today.

scared ....fear ....courage....copy.... originality.....distraction...the tv.. interruption in between as the tv was loud....scream at the sibling....family...anger...childhood...loud...loud..loud...frowns...tensed eyebrows...mother..laughter...warmth... love, maybe?....ahh sweet love... but other love?...no love...lust...attraction...seduction?....smart...intelligence...insane intelligence...long nails painted off white...preppy wear...bohemian, but?...yellow.. so much yellow... my room's yellow wall...i glance sideways now...see the wall and smile.....they were going to make it pink...but am glad i fought for yellow... brighter than sunshine....memories.. i cheat now and dont mention names... all the names come back... bittersweet endings.... new beginnings? ..but still bittersweet....running away..escapism... sarcasm... contradictions...me... peace... writer... nature...beauty...white..pure....but there's no peace, there are just machines...technology- necessary but uninspiring... 


~

I don't know what to name this one.

Written a while back, this was never intended for the blog. But as people become but memories and memories become distant, the intentions tend to be forgotten and pieces like the one below become, but, another attempt at poetry put on a public portal for all to see. :) 

Chitter, chatter

Some rather useless banter.

Did he too think it is beautiful,

So random, this laughter?

For all the digs,

And the sarcastic humour,

Little did he know,

How she smiled, when he saw her.

~

Starry eyed

There is this ache inside of me
I wish I could write about it
It would make a painful song
The one to which they'd still sing along

There is this child in the distance,
I wish I could write about him
As in his mother's hair, he entwines a finger
And stares at her face in pure wonder.

There is this little girl I see
Oh, how she reminds me of well, me.
If I write about her,
Would you just name it as useless banter?

There are fireflies and trees
You'd rather I write about all of that, no?
How I watch you embrace with love
The stars, the moonlight and the open breeze!

~

And I declare.

Post some thinking, reflection, looking back in retrospect and all that fancy jazz, I've nailed a few realizations. My language seems incredibly popular culture influenced, you're thinking? I write in either complete abstract or in a manner similar to those "celebrity" bloggers whose life particularly revolves around the number of "followers" they have. Good, at least I got you thinking about the same shit, my bored mind is wrecking itself over. I love poetry, but there are times I want to shake people up. Times like right now. What I wouldnt do to go around bursting bubbles- metaphorically and otherwise too. My mind wanders off to India Gate.

Sigh...

As usual, we digress. Let's get back now to my super intelligent realizations. Ah well whom am I kidding! They're not particularly intelligent (though, in person I'd never admit that). They are however bizzare, amusing and almost definitely bloody bang on!

1. When you're out at night- alone, defying all the rules a girl in Dilli is supposed to follow, trying to prove to the world that you will punch any man who attempts to get cheeky, prove to yourself that you don't need anyone to drop, pick you up or be concerned about you, your phone always and mark that word- always  runs on low battery. Not amusing, not in the slightest degree. 
2. Days that there is a lot of work, the head aches and you curse capitalism and consumerism and the boss and the boss's boss. Days there is no work, the head aches even more with boredom and you curse louder. 
3. Facebook is a great temptation only when you're avoiding a task. At a time, when there really isn't anything to do- its just an annoying community gossip mechanism taken to the internet. 
4. When you're with a smart guy, you wish he was just a little prettier; when you're with a pretty boy, you can't believe you're with someone whose not even smart. When you find someone whose both, he is almost definitely a figment of your imagination. 
5. In an interview, every candidate is always hard working, smart, analytical, passionate, committed. Once they start working however, they all become lazy, lazy, lazy, uninterested, complaining and oh lazy. 
6. Single people hate their friends who have boyfriends- especially the best ones. Un-single best friends always want to set their single friends up, that too after a one hour rant about how all men suck and they wish they were single themselves. 
7. Self- deprecating humour is never a sign of low self esteem- it is infact a courteous way of telling you, you're not even worth a good laugh. 
8. Pseudo people will never tell you they are pseudo. But it sucks when you find out. 
9. Sex has to be the single most popular subject of discussion across all ages, genders,sexualities, regions, communities. And yet we make a hue and cry about it. 
10. Yellow is the best colour... EVER. 
11. Most people who are upset, have nothing else to occupy their mind with. 
12. Illness is in the mind, mostly. 
13. This new generation, needs  to read some good old literature and get a grip on their vocabulary. 
14. Everything is awesome and just what you want until you get it. Oh make that everyone too. 
15. It is only human to be sickly attention craving, power chasing, anti-authority and shamelessly hypocritical. 

Happy working! :)

~

A trip back to childhood

I wish I'd taken pictures.
As always, I did not.

The best memories are those that are in the mind alone. But, off late I want to buy a dslr. I want to capture what I see in more than just words. But that's for another time and another post. This post is about a trip away from home, after really long. A trip back to my childhood- the childhood that seems like a dream now, a memory from another universe, another time, a long long time ago.

Madras never can disappoint. This time, it was just that white spot after  series of grey. I dont want to sum up the specifics of the trip- they are too personal and too beautiful. But this trip soothed me- I think i really needed this calm. Life's been a havoc lately. Am back to grind, but I feel so refreshed.

I love the beach.

~

Fatigue

And then there days like this one, of complete exhaustion.

It's not just about today, it's about all thats been going on. I need some fresh air, some perspective. I need some change, some inspiration. I need some dreaming, some imagination.

Everything that can go wrong, is going wrong. Very much so. I'm suffocated, but there's little I can do about it that an overcome my claustrophobic tendencies. It's been so long since I've even reacted. Frankly, I'm too tired to react.

Then, when all's wrong I remind myself- I've always struggled and had to put in extra effort for all that I've ever achieved. I've always dealt with my shit all by myself- alone and sometimes even lonely. I've always cleaned up my own mess. So this time too, it shall be the case.

But what do you do, when its just fatigue you feel? Today, I actually told someone I'll give up. It feels strange to feel these things.

Rock bottom can be an awesome place to reach because from here you can only rise upwards. But you know what? I'm tired. Period.

~

Whirlwind Moment

Steaming coffee
A conversation or two.
The laid back laugh,
That reminds me of you.

And then when I look up,
The ceiling's gone away
Them stars and the moonlight
To a new rhythm they sway.

I laugh so loudly,
I make them stop and stare.
While they frown, unamused
I could barely even care.

But when I look up again,
It's the ceiling, all white.
Then I dream of the abstract
Because I don't like what's in sight.

~

The whiny post

It's been a long time since I whined. No, seriously, it has been a while.

The year started with my decision that I'm going to be happy, come what bloody may. However, it's not an easy decision to act upon. I know happiness is a feeling, a state of mind and jargon like that. But well, like most other things, I decided this is the way to be. So, no am not miserable, am just annoyed. Extremely annoyed. Annoyed to the point that I am hurting my keyboard with the force I am using to type this post. This is not good. See the number of times I have used the italics to emphasize on words? I'm slowly losing my marbles.

In case, you're still reading this post, let me first pity you for being so bored that you're clearly willing to read any amount of crap. Now, if that wasn't powerful enough a tool to cheese you off, then here is another warning, I am going to bullet point my whining and attempt at amusing some extremely bored lonely soul by declaring the most ridiculous reasons or worry, as has become my life.

So drumrolls, applause and those loud punjabi cheers that sound like horrible abuses, here goes:

1. I absolutely  hate Delhi. I hate it to the point that it's not even funny anymore. I think I should get out of here soon, lest I stop loving those very few things that I do about the city. The city suffocates me. There is zero inspiration, people have the most inconsequential reasons to worry and everyone judges. It makes me judge too. I judge all those judgmental, narrow minded, hypocritical, uncouth people. I hate this place. 
2. Even though I like my job and my team, sometimes, I want to burn the building down. Its annoying how my work can range from some big awesome responsibilities to running to the ground floor with a pen drive for a senior. Some of them here need a lesson or two on leadership and well management. Turns out an MBA really does not imply managerial skills. I can start another blog on this- it will be called jerks at work. But, once i leave this place or maybe this corporate whore lifestyle altogether. 
3. I want to publish. Yes well, am not saying I haven't started. I recently gave out samples of my free verse poetry, let's see how that turns out. But I want to publish a compilation of short stories and a book- which I've already started. But it's so difficult to sit down and keep writing. It will take me at least a year to get done with this book. I am SO slow. This sucks. 
4. I am most certainly incapable of being in a relationship, or for that matter falling in love. I'm at peace with the fact of course and mostly it's not an issue, but at times theres this strange feeling inside- how detached am I? I fall for them men easily, mostly because of my love for novelty and then I snap out of it just the same, because of well, my dislike for boredom. But ah well, sometimes you make decisions when you decide to be no damsel in distress. 
5. Everything in life seems so pointless lately. Just about everything. 
6. I am nowhere on my five year weight loss plan. 
7. I am sleepy all the time, but I can't sleep. 
8. I really need to stop thinking. I wish I could switch my brain off. 
9. I am cynical, so cynical and as it turns out not even by choice. 

I'm tired of telling everyone life will be okay and jazz like that. So sick of listening to people either breaking up or getting married. I don;t know which is worse actually.

I have now completed, easily the worst post on this blog. Seriously! See what this city is doing to me? I'm worried about inconsequential bullshit. Soon you'll find me cribbing about a chipped nail with a bunch of blonde-brained, snow white skinned, ironed hair sporting factory made barbie dolls. 

It's almost as if my dear Delhi collects people basis their lack of intelligence and more importantly creativity. 

Balle Balle, it most certainly is then!

~

P.S: If I've hurt the sentiments of any Delhi lovers in this post, I am sorry or not  being apologetic at all. If you're a true Delhite, you'll never get the humour, so please feel free to abuse to hell out of this delhi-hater, like you roll down the windows and hurl those shameful abuses at the guy who overtook you (did he not know it is your birthright to speed outrageously!). 

If you're actually laughing, you're a poor soul stuck in this dreadfully uninspiring city, just like me or you're in a state of inebriation. Either way, you're better off than the other guys. 

 

Broken hearts and harem pants

The madness sings its perfect song
And how mad would that be
This madness has a mind of its own
And no method can it ever be.

She's racing ahead and racing strong
But her thoughts, they speed like light
Cloudy thoughts and broken hearts
Seldom feel right.

She runs along anyway,
So scared to ever stop
But her breath, it runs out and how
Just an inch away from the ladder top.

You see broken hearts and wicked brains,
Seldom ever mix
So, a part of her ran far away
While a part of her still awaited the tryst.

The madness crazed her heart and soul
But her mind was in a different fix,
So much to do, such little time
Weary, she was of the old tricks.

Peace was the elusive partner
To her exhausted, cynical soul
But her heart, it had a mind of its own
She tried to suppress its role.

Was it one straight line, she ran along
Or three sixty degrees of craze?
How did it matter, she asked herself,
There was no destination either way!

A part of her made bullet points
Of every hurdle to face
Then the other part splattered paint all over it
Naming it pointless, this mad mad race.

The mind it sang its own sweet song
And how perfect that would be
But her heart, it had a mind of its own
And no method could it ever see.

~

Why grow up

I spent the day playing with clay.

After months, today, my head does not hurt from racing thoughts. Turns out clay never ceases to be fun! Also, i found the remedy to put my brain to rest. Green clay and back-to-back movies.

I don't like facebook.
I don't like gtalk.
I like blogspot, only because I can choose to talk to it without being talked to.

My sister is a nutcase. There really is no better way to describe her.

I have random, interrupted, disassociated thoughts again. It's a great feeling. Welcome back yo! :)

A perfect end to the day will be making prank calls, telling random aunties on the line to go 'catch their refrigerator' when they say 'yes' in response to 'is your refrigerator running?'

When did life become about all this adult (no-pun-intended) stuff anyway. I still like lemon flavoured lollypops and choco-bar!

~

What an idea, I say

How about a little game to test the writing skills?
I am thinking, I should pick an adjective/verb/emotion everyday and weave a story/ snippet/ poetry around it. A piece that would bring out that single word emotion to the best degree possible. Everyday is unrealistically ambitious, but atleast as often as I can.
It will help streamline my own thoughts and the consequence of thoughts too.
I recently woke up in the middle of the night to realize, the only reason I do everything that I do do and the only thing I probably even want to do, is to make those around me think. It's ironic because I can be pretty impulsive myself. But what I mean is, to get them to just pause for a moment, think and question themselves, their beliefs, their ideas, contradict them, argue it out maybe and then well, they can move on. Just that one moment, is all I need, a moment that they use to shake up, loosen up and question everything they are being rigid about. So vague a dream, you say? But it is the highlight of who I am. It is the reason I am contradicting and contradictory all the time, but more on that some other time.
So, if I can manage to convey a single emotion so strongly in one piece, I'd consider it a victory in its own right. You know those little victories you do crazy happy dances about in your head? That kind.

~

Dreams

I hold my dreams so close,
Because I fear I'd lose them all.
I wrap them up in polythene
So they're lifeless, like a doll.

I whisper to them at night though,
With a heartache, not so small
And when I put on those running shoes,
I still hear their call.

But so long as they're a secret
There is at least that ray of hope, tall.
So I'll let my dreams be dreams alone
They never see the light of the day, at all.

~

P.S: We are often so scared of our dreams, we underestimate our power to execute them. Execution is a boring affair and barely as romantic and exciting as dreaming itself, but it's braver, no doubt. Is imagination best left unexplored? Should dreams really be left as dreams alone?

Agony

A million little pieces of me,
Lie scattered here and there
Come, take your pick.
Hold the piece you find dear.

Smile at your little piece
If you love, then do tell her.
Hold it close enough
So you can hear her silent whimper.

~

My childhood nightmare

I will never forget this nightmare. It haunted me for a large part of my childhood and is still stuck in my memory. I   think about it sometimes and I think maybe it had  a message or some strange meaning...

The dream is about me, but quite obviously I do not see my face. I see my house though- the old house I was born in. That house was in exactly the same place I am now, only that it was broken down to build this new one that I don't particularly like, this new one will never be like my old home. So yes, that was a big house with 2 floors and a terrace and it had spiral stairs of sorts. The dream starts with me running into the house from the gate at the back of the house. For some mysterious reason am wearing only my under garments (I was like 4, so it's not so strange). This big, rather muddy monster follows me into our home. Everyone panics and runs away in different directions. I take the stairs and start to climb. Somehow I manage to hide myself in the staircase and the monster follows the children of our tenants who lived in the room on the terrace.

And then it's just me running. And running...

~

Updates and Upwards

So, I realized sometime back, people actually  read this blog. I mean am sure they aren't great in number but the ones that are, follow it and get it, and the ones I know of, do matter. So first up, for once I shall be modest and non-pompous, why I will even go out of the way to be humble and grateful (if I use one more virtuous word in this post, noone will believe i wrote it, so let's stop here) to all those who read.

I've decided to go public now. More public than online. I've been meaning to publish  collection of short stories and poetry for a while now but could never really make up my mind. But, thanks to some people around me, I am sort of convinced to give this whole commercial thing a shot.  I mean being a writer can't always remain a dream can it? So there is nothing substantial in place yet. But, the decision has been made. I shall first show a collection of these poetic scribbles. I've already written the rough draft of the prelude to the collection. Will hopefully get done with all the editing and getting opinion soon and then start the tedious task of publisher meetings. In fact, if you are reading this and you think you can/want to help in anyway, do drop me an email. I'd value your view/opinion on the work as well if you could suggest the way forward. Am new to this world. Clueless as can be.

Can a burning desire  and that strong will and passion to achieve, actually be enough to achieve? Maybe not, but it's always a good start.

Lots been happening. 2011 has been rather eventful. Surprises, novelty, frivolity, discovery, inspiration, euphoria, pain, suffocation. It's only the third month and I already feel so lost. I think it's the uncertainty, the wait, the fact that I am out of control. The fact that I know something good is going to come of this because I have to get my way. But, the wait..oh the wait..

In other news, I am getting a paranoia of sorts with respect to my health. No, really. It's funny because I am usually suspicious of medicines and doctors and believe sleep can cure anything and everything. But, offlate I've addressed myself as  bi polar, schizophrenic, OCPD and well some other things which are actually too embarass to put up here. The funny thing is how I drove certain people nuts about those things, but lets leave out the specifics, as always. Besides, as is life, the specifics important at one point of time, slowly lose relevance over time. See why I never mention names, real incidents or an honest update of my emotions here?  Writing is what I love the most in the world- it is a means of self expression. However, I can never write a diary because that is a scary memory book of people and experiences you might want to  erase out altogether. In my case, the erasing of experiences happens almost as often as new experiences themselves. So yea.

I must end now. Running around in circles never results in a solution.  It results in a freaking headache the size of the giant monster whom I used to dream about in the early years of my childhood. It results in fatigue and that incessant, urgent need to break bloody free.
I should know.

~

City-wise

I've been meaning to put my thoughts together on this one, for really long. But for some reason, morbid poetry always beats the other ideas and ends up seeing th light of the day before others. But anyway, let's not drift again.

I love travelling. Well, technically I hate flights and have road sickness so a journey by rail is usually the preferred medium. But what I actually love is going to new places. I know traditionally, if you are in a new city, you see what it's famous for, eat what it's famous for, click what it's famous for and then go back with happy memories. I don't intend to make myself sound too cool and different for those things. I do them too, yes. But what really sticks with me is the sense of the city. Time passes by and the city becomes a faint memory with a certain background score to it. The people? Yes of course. But people come and people go and they leave you with beautiful memories too, but that's for another post, later sometime. The thing about a city is, it changes the way you feel about yourself and why maybe even someone with you.

I've lived in Madras, Bombay and Dilli. Yes, this is the way i prefer to address the 3 cities and that shall remain. Associated with each of these are hazy memories of people, incidents, experiences with a faint background score. But you know the things I see in my mind when I think of these cities? The roads. It is certainly not intentional and in fact a rather startling discovery. I see those roads with clarity, you know? And then there are colours, like Dilli is always green, Madras is yellow and Bombay just has to be red. Everytime I think of each of these cities, I go back to the way they make me feel or the person I used to be in these cities.

Dilli is home. Its where I was born, brought up and its where I came back, every time. I love and hate the city. I love the citty only little and hate the city beyond measure. But it's home. And nothing can ever take away from the first city that's your home. I love the infrastructure, the pure beauty. I've seen this city change and oh how it has changed. I love the urbanization accompanied by the history associated with it. It's the city where on my way to a monument more than 100 years old, I see spoilt teenagers driving their fathers' cars to impress another daddy's little rich girl. It's the city where women dread getting out at night alone and still the city with the prettiest roads. It's the city of loud people, unrestricted road rage and abuses and then its' the city that you can wake up and go for a long walk in the morning all by yourself. The city is beautiful. The people are a different story altogether. It's a city that spoils you and then it's a city that makes you strong. But it's a city that for all its spacious roads and lavish greenery, suffocates the hell out of me.

Madras. I lived there for 5 years and what beautiful memories that city did give me. It's my yellow. I associate the happiest period of my childhood to Madras. In a way I'm so glad I spent my early years there because it has come a long way in shaping who I am. Everytime I go back there, its only happy. I can't remember specifics ( even though I actually know  my way around in the city!). It is the city with faint memories, the smell of musk and the sound of laughter- innocent, unknowing, shrill laughter. It's the city where I made my first set of "best" friends- the friends I can still write 'letters' to. It's the city of the first crush and all those fancy things bollywood movies associate with childhood. And then, my city of beaches- the city that is responsible for my love for the sea. I used to love going to the beach- and it left behind memories of just me and the water. Its overdone and cliche but for a reason- very few experiences can beat sitting in from of the sea watching the tides rise and subside and then feel the salty water on your toes and just when you being to love that feeling, the water resides only to return back later and leave you thinking, leave you wondering...

And then there is my favourite city so far- Bombay. It's my favourite of ALL the cities I've ever been to, every lived in- in India and abroad. The city is romanticized, talked about, visualized- its called the city of dream, the city that never sleeps. But, all for a good reason. There's something about that city. Even for someone as descriptive as me, I run short of adjectives to describe it perfectly. Its crammed and its crowded. It's busy and it's dirty. But why then is it so free, so liberating? That's the irony I am unable to grasp. Bombay breathes inspiration. Even in the daily tedious routine of life, I would feel so inspired. Everything about that city is worth clicking and being written about. Be it the over done Queen's Necklace or that man I saw walking in the subway- I can't remember what he looked life, but I remember him, the anger in his eyes, the urgency in his walk and the sense of fatigue on his forehead. It's a magnanimous city and crazy one at that. It's a city like no other and it will be the city I move back to eventually.

I need to live in many more cities though- for atleast a year. It's like a volleyball of sorts, but it's worth it.

~

For love or for hate

For love or for hate,
I make your dreams my own.
Then I laugh carelessly,
As you struggle with them alone.

For love or for hate,
I hold you close as you scream
But, I smile at your fear
And of revenge, my eyes gleam.

For love or for hate,
I write you a song.
Then I cry in my sleep,
Because I know you lie all along.

For love or for hate,
I tell you I care.
Then, when you look at me helplessly,
I remind you, life is but, unfair.

For love or for hate,
I watch the world spin on
And when I see what I shouldn't
I call it a mere twist of fate.

~

My own sunshine

I waited so long. 
I waited, till late. 
But I waited all the while,
For my own sunshine. 


I stood in the rain
And I danced with the wind,
And I smiled, when they cried
As I waited, for my own sunshine. 


I still look up at the sky
And at night, count the stars
I try to sleep tight
Waiting all this while, for my own sunshine. 

~ 

The thing about baggage

As complicated or un-complicated, one might be, there is always a past. A past does not always imply a series of dramatic events, one can make a bollywood film out of. But, there is always a sense of baggage. More for some people, than the others.

My point is?

Well, my point is simply this- we don't entirely realize how our past shapes who we are. It could be our equation with our parents/ siblings, death or accidents we could never come to terms with, a childhood romance gone sour or even being the jack of all trades at school. The memory of any of these incidents traces us right back to that time and right back to just how they made us feel. I've always believed that people may come and people may go, but we will always remember how they made us feel. Unknowingly, these incidents carve out who we are. The way we felt remains in some silent part of us, but it does remain. Even in moving on and forgetting, we move on as a different person- the person we become as a consequence of the experience we eventually might try to forget.

So you see it's a pity, when people like me decide to dislike their roots, like to be vague about past experiences, however silly they might be in the bigger scheme of things, because it is these experiences, that make me the person I am. It is amazing, how thinking about all this and looking at it from a completely new perspective, feels like the process of solving that one math question one can never solve in the entire exercise- you've made little notes around it, 'starred' it because you were told it is important, you've attempted it before and you had watched your teacher shake her head in disapproval as she highlighted the silly mistake you made. Yet, as you try it again, you can't seem to get it right, repeatedly. And just like that, after a quick cup of coffee and/or a shower, you see your silly mistake right in front of you and nail it- just freaking right. I used to love that feeling. More so because it came with a sense of pride, because you know, I figured out where I was wrong, all by myself. 


It's a birthday resolution of sorts. I'm going to come to terms with all this jazz, you know. Because, it's not like  I've faced those real problems. I'm mean am born in an India that is free and democratic and liberalized enough to afford a spoilt, thankless generation like ours. But there are things, little ones here and there that made me feel a certain way, that made me do certain things and that make me so cautious today. There have been people I've loved and lost, people I've lost and realized how much I loved and then there are people I don't think I tell enough that I do infact care about them. It's high time to get these things straight. I am freaking 22! For how long can I continue to be so walled up? For how long can I use running away as a solution to almost everything. For all the things I thought I'd be when I'm 22, escapist was never one of them. Well, neither was chubby, but that's another story altogether. Maybe, I've tried running in every direction, but by the end of it, somehow, I land up right where I started. So I got to make the start right. I've got to learn to trust and I've got to learn to let go. I've also got to seriously get this chubbiness off me.  ;)

~

The mountain and the mole

I've been writing lesser. This, after I promised a blog revamp, posts that made more sense and an honest effort to not beat around the bush. It's a pity I know. But as I write this, I know fully well that this post will, also be followed by an unreasonable gestation period until I loose my marbles and put up a series of ridiculously morbid poetry-of-sorts again.

It is time consuming, I say- this laziness, this sudden sense of comfort I have developed with procrastination. The worst part is that I am not really slowing down. I am however, delaying, dreaming and over-thinking, quite a bit. I am distracted, oh so distracted. By what, you ask? Oh that I am afraid I cannot determine! Its not one thing, its so many but when I sit to count, it is nothing at all. The old itch is coming back, I fear. The itch to just get up and fly. Not even run away. Just look up and fly. Just like that.

But along with all this need for freedom, change and all that jazz, there is a sense of shallowness. I can't explain it. I've never been able to. But I go to sleep every night without making a difference. I evolve, I learn and oh I've changed so much for the good et cetera. Yet, I still don't reach out. How has this blog which I have maintained for years, now, helped anyone? And by help, I don't mean I pity or sympathize, heck I am not entitled to that, but is there any need at all I've fulfilled?

I try to be there for friends, for family. We all do, don't we? But I am a little more self-obsessed that most people I know. Selfish? not at all. But self-obsessed, yes. I had never really seen a problem with that. But off late, I feel shallow. I have ridiculous reasons of worry. I fret over absolute non-issues and I do not know if I will ever get into politics. I  don't intend to make this an I-hate-my-life post. I am very happy, in fact. But there is something missing. Something, undefined, but still so important. Something that shouldn't be missing. I just can't pin point what it is yet.

~

The moral of the story

I feel like one of those children. 

You know the kind that want a toy really bad. They cry, they crib, they whine, they get bruised, they fight, they do all they can and get that toy. 

When they get it, they hold it in their hands and stare at it from all sides. 

Then, they discard without so much as a movement of the eyebrow and walk away.

~

There is always a reason to smile

...but it has to come from within the self.

Always.

Because, when it doesn't, it will fade away. Or well, it is  just a bubble. 

Wanderlust

So, I've made up my mind this must come to an end.

(yes, I will always love abba)

Places, cities, neighbourhoods et all that I want to and will go to this year.

1. Bombay: My favourite city. A trip there is LONG pending.
2. Chennai: So that should probably cover a Kodai/Pondi?Mahabalipuram as well.
3. Goa: I've never been there. Nothing more left to be said now, is there?
4. Gujarat: Due to too much of Gujarati talk around me these days. Hence the curiosity needs to be quenched.
5. Neemrana: Realistic weekend plan.
6. Rishikesh: Well, rafting basically.

I think this should do, for now?
Ah yes, not very ambitious, out of the world places, are these? But they are realistic ambitions. And apart from these some impromptu trips need to be made, but let's leave them out of documentation, lest the fun be ruined.

Running away is on my mind.

~ 

Lazy Ambitions

The problem with always wanting to excel really is nothing but the execution part of it. I am not competitive, well with other I mean. It is this constant competition with the self- to grow, to evolve, to learn, unlearn and excel- always.

Sometimes, in fact going by recent happenings, a LOT of times, it just puts so much pressure on the self, you know? Pressure is really not difficult to deal with, if it comes from a source but oneself. But, when you are pretty much the prime reason for all the pressure on you, it just well, sucks ( Ten minutes later, when I refresh my blog and read this post, I am going to curse myself under my breath for using this word on what I like to believe is so profound, a page).

I just have to excel. I am not saying win, because it's never about winning so someone else loses for me. It's just about excelling- immersing myself to the T, giving it my best shot and then smiling and quickly moving onto my next project.

But I don't seem to recollect how I did that anymore. I was always a multi-tasker right? Procrastinator, do i hear you say? Why, yes of course- but still an ideator and still an executioner.
Lately, however, everything seems to be just another source of burden. No, I am not morbid and depressed and abstract these days (as you can guess by the tone of the post), but stressed? Yes, indeed. It's almost as if I never knew what stress was before.

Suddenly, I feel the need to take care of my health, to exercise or simply, to run away. There is a part of me that wants to take refuge under the warm blankets on my bed, eat a lot of pizza and watch mindless television. But there is the other part, that wants to start exercising everyday, eat the healthiest of food and travel- a LOT. The latter part envisions clear fields and blue skies and running across all that jazz with arms wide open et all.

So while am torn between a newfound extremity of laziness and the boiling urge to just breakfree, what is it that I really choose to do? Oh yes, you got that one right, I open blogger and decide to write about my dilemma.

Please keep the smirk to yourself, I am very productive, if you may.
I just, well need to buy some more time.

Also, I think this page is going to be victim of a lot of sarcasm for a while, I need to vent. No, really I do.

So that's the end of yet another post devoid of any purpose or intellect whatsoever.

~  

Faith

The high,
the low
Crush my dreams
But the hope will never go.


~

~

You know that sweet smell,
of really old wine?

Or the dust that greets you,
when you open a book long forgotten?

Have you seen the smile you smile,
When a long lost friend calls, just to say hi?

Do you know why you secretly cross your fingers
or silently whisper a prayer?

Have you felt so safe,
that you fear it's just a bubble?

You know that half remembered song?
You know it, you know it really well, but you can never be sure.

I feel like that these days.

Am I letting go or holding on?
Am I forgetting or actually forgiving?

It's not grey, this.
It's cream, a million shades of cream.
It's off white
It's bordering on yellow, but it's not there yet.
Because I try to find reality, in what is but, only elusive.
Because my yellow's always been a mirage.

~

So Lately..

I've been obsessing over John Mayor.
Ahh so much of him, after so long.
Humming them pretty tunes all the time :)

Really, it's okay if you insist he's gay. I don't care. :)

~

Desiderata

The piece below was given as a farewell gift to me by one of my closest friends. Originally it was found in Old St. Paul's Church, baltimore; dated 1692

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth clearly
and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and agressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter; for always
there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possesion in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. especially do not feign affection.
neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenhancement
is it perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of the youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive him to be;
and whatever your labours and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful. Strive to be happy.

~

But it rained.

So here is something I heard yesterday. I decided to make note of it here on this page, simply because as a thought it has lingered on.

"It was raining and it felt like it was raining on me"

So when it was said to me, I doubt I gave the desired reaction. In the sense, it was typical you know? I hear something with a deeper connotation to it, nod agreeing, smile politely in a courteous appreciation of the thought behind the thought, if one would put it like that.

But as was expected, the thought stuck on. Only this time, I did not want to mask it under a vague form of poetry and put it up here. I think maybe this could be powerful by itself. Also, it opens the mind to several interpretations. Even for a ferocious rain lover like myself, I know there is a tiny part in their somewhere that still connects to the metaphor and that goes back to the many occasions, I silently hummed parikrama to myself. You see, all was going well, but it rained.

~

The old song

And just where am I
I'd never know
A whimsical reality?
Or dreams gone sore?

It's a rainy day
But it wouldn't snow
Black as coal,
Your eyes, they know.

Let's run away tonight,
Give into the age old plight.
Let's undo the right,
We can be those colours, so bright.

And just who am I
I would not know
The truth you dread?
Or the secret laying low.

It's a foggy day,
And my mind's a blur
But black as coal,
Your eyes, they still know.

Let's run away tonight,

Give into the age old plight. 

Let's undo the right,

We can be those colours, so bright. 

We can be those people too

We can just pretend it's true

Forget the old song for just a while,

Tonight, let's go that extra mile. 

~

Untitled #3

Tiny little drops of tears
The hazy view of life
The windshield all misty
Of laughter, it is the secret demise.

Finger prints on the glass
Can't wipe away the mist
Blurry is the shameful past
Painful is the twist.

Through the haze and the frost,
The eyes can still be seen,
Welled up with a distant dream
Glued to the window screen.

Move closer a little
The mist was all to find
Those big dark eyes seemed to fade away
Yet of the untold truth, they remind.

~

Wishful Thinking

Stay,
While I run away?

Confide,
Even though I hide?

Truth
Beneath my pile of lies?

See
Though I might be blind?

Whisper
While I scream outside?

Will you now,
Knowing I never would?

~

:)

So hold me tight,
Hug me just right,
Share a secret whisper
And kiss me Happy New Year.

~

Simple rules to a good life.

Since I don't take credit for stuff that is but, unoriginal, the idea of making this list comes from the words of wisdom of a certain someone who thinks she knows the road to well being as it were. So take a look there and of course, take a good look here.

Baba Ramdev would agree with me when he is done breathing like he's giving birth to a goat's baby. No, seriously, I bet you'll print this out and put it up on your silly excuse for notice board right next to that profound quote you copied off some witty quotes site by an author whose book you have probably never had the courage to read.

So, here goes:

1. Your baggage is YOUR own. Literally and metaphorically. If you cannot carry that overweight suitcase you have filled with stuff you really don't need, it is your problem alone. Take the clutter out of the bag and carry around the new light weighted bad with pride or just buy a stroller that you can slide around. So, if there are issues and baggage bogging your self esteem and sense of self down, shed it and move on. If you place it on someone else's shoulders for break, remember it is only a temporary arrangement. The baggage will come back and this time only seem heavier, because by now you would be used to no weight on your shoulders, remember? 
2. When in doubt, smile. Works. Everytime. Don't think of something witty to say or try and remember to that which you did not listen to in the first place. Just widen those jaw muscles into a polite smile and a slight tilt of the head. The maximum you lose is that the other person might believe you to be silly. But hey, if you weren't that, you wouldn't be in doubt in the first place, honey. 
3. Make up creative abuses. It's fun, really. You do not even have to use words that would be 'beeped' off shady reality shows. Just your regular animals and witches and all that jazz. Firstly, the person you abuse will be too taken aback by the new words being used to address him, so he would barely react to the fact the fact that he is actually being abused. Secondly, you can go to sleep at night priding yourself of a great sense of humour, finally. It would be a great feeling to see three people laugh at something you said, because you could not come up with something better. Seriously, try it.
4. When others think they have cracked a joke, laugh. Firstly because it is ridiculous to not like lame jokes. Cmon, they are the most obvious form of humour, are actually carefully witty and if you don't laugh at them you just have a stick shoved up your backside. Secondly, even if the level of humour being indulged in is too low for your self proclaimed refined taste, for your own sake, laugh, lest the joke 'cracker' decides to start explaining the joke to the 'crackees' thinking the reason for their silence is lack of comprehension. 
5. When making rules, do not make the fifth rule "Follow the above four". Grow up. Just because you cannot come up with the fifth golden rule does not imply you show it in so obvious a manner. So make all 5 rules. Just like I did. Do I see you raise that eyebrow, now? Don't give me your sarcasm, child, it's not in my rulebook to scorn back, but I can make exceptions now can't I? 

Follow these simple rules religiously, why just like you religiously bribed every God the imagination of mankind has ever created before your twelfth standard board exam and I promise, nirvana will be your thing baby! That or I would have succeeded in bull-shitting across a new medium. 

Ta

~

Candyfloss

Cmon now, let's admit it- we underestimate the power of superficiality to an immeasurable degree. We the self proclaimed 'thinking' clan would go to any extent to portray ourselves as rather deep and full of substance. Why, we look down upon them lesser mortals who thrive on discussing everyday issues. We call these discussions irrelevant and stupendously stupid, now don't we? Just an example of the gross bias we pose against candyfloss and all that comes with it.

See, superficiality and substance are supremely subjective. Infact analyzing and over analyzing that has confused me to the point that I'd really like to refrain from labeling others as so. But for me, for the time being, I'd like to change my tone for this post. Let's throw away that thinking cap and that sense of mundaneness that this life has become. Let's pretend, we are shedding some clothes, soaking in the sun on a warm sunny day. Ooo let's add the beach, just for fun and talk while I sit back and sip my blue lagoon alongside.

So I am turning twenty two soon and I'd like to crib now. What's new you ask me? Well the topics I choose to complain about vary from time to time so I refrain from monotony even when it comes to this. ;)
I could be 'out there' on this beautiful Wednesday night intoxicating myself silly and enjoying the frivolities of life. But I'd rather sit cuddled up with my laptop under a blanket writing as if to were an audience of million (while knowing fully well in my head that only two out of the probably three followers of this blog will actually even read the whole post). In fact, to add to the drudgery that has become the routine of my new life, I will hurl a few abuses under my breath and pass a few sarcastic remarks without any real reason.

The power of frivolities is never to be underestimated- they make one smile, make many people nod in agreement, something you would never experience if the topic of discussion was the leftist regime or Obama's debating lessons to the aspiring. You say Mamta Bannerjee and immediately evoke multiple sets of reactions, fierce arguments and an unhealthy exchange of non-pleasantries that eventually lead to no useful consequence, let alone solving the political crisis that our country is so shamelessly faced with. On the contrary, you say "Prada" and you get to see that aspirational, dreamy smile on everyone's face. World peace, anyone?

The seemingly 'lesser' important things in life are in fact the source of the most ridiculous kind of temporary happiness and when the moment passes, why, you can choose another frivolous thing you feel happy about. Bored of the brand new pair of heels you spent half of your painfully little salary on? Not a big deal, really. Just spend a few pennies on a cheap scarf of the flea market and obsess over it till you can afford the next big mistake. Well atleast these frivolities pose problems we can actually solve as opposed to discuss/ debate over endlessly.

While you try to figure, like me the purpose of this ridiculously direction less post, I should sign out now, lest all this typing chips my perfectly manicured nails off.

No, seriously, the post ends here.

~

The Blog's brand new year?

Brand New-ness is what a new year is all about right?
Resolutions et all? I don't really believe in resolutions. I think they are a waste of time. But that thought still isn't strong enough to keep me away from resolving to lose ten kilos, year after year. Quite obviously, I don't follow it to the T, but what the heck!

So now in this new year, I think this blog deserves to come to life. Purely in terms of the mundaneness of the current posting pattern and content. I'm thinking, let's redo the templates, pump some air into this page, post happier things and post a lot more about candy floss and all that jazz. Let's do the whole entertainment routine, write about issues that need to be written about, promote this page a lot more yet continue with the surreal, morbid posts too. :)

I'm thinking Mistletoe and Wine.

~

P.S- 20th Post this month. so that's twenty in Dec itself. The lord save my soul! :)

My Sideview

Move along
Will you now?
While I move aside,
Slowly, subtly,
But knowingly,
The entire time.

I like the view from here,
I can't see fully, true
But I can sense all the colours
A conversation long overdue.

This side view is such a relief
A tight smile, the lips sealed.
This side view ever so perfect,
Hides the reality, we unknowingly wheeled.

~

What really matters.

Mini-disclaimer: In entirety, this post is going to be addressed in second person. It is no way intended towards being preachy or earth-shattering or evolutionarily thought provoking. Heck, I couldn't do that even if I tried. In fact especially if I tried too hard. But leaving all of that aside, let's try and get to the point or continue beating around the bush, as is customary to this blog but well, beat around the relevant bush.

How many times have we asked someone what really matters to them or expressed to them what really matters to ourselves? If you think about it, I am sure you can replay countless conversations in your head that have a mention of "But does that really matter?" or "What is it that really matters?". So I pause now and ask you, What is it that really matters to you? It is not my intention to know what is it that makes the most difference to your life, but it is my intention to find out if I am alone in this confusion. I can't seem to decide what substance really is. Maybe that's why I can't be judgmental about people. Analytical? yes. But Judgmental? only rarely. Ihe thing is I do not know if what matters to another or myself is what really should matter. So it makes the least difference to me!

As I grew up, it was engraved in me that materialism is of no consequence in the long term. Its "how good a human being you are that matters". So I would politely nod, think about it, make mental notes and distance myself from what was considered to be materialistic. But as I grew up I realized that not only was that extremely idealistic, it was also in a way a hypocritical approach to life because lets face it, money matters. So I realized, how much money I earn will affect my life and as long as I can afford the things that "really" matter, it should be a good life. And then again I asked myself, what "really" mattered to me. People, you say? See, now people come and go. They leave behind imprints and images in the mind, but you got to move past that or else you will be stuck in that grey zone forever. But some people should matter, right? They certainly do, but they make everything so tough, I'd rather wish they didn't.

At different points in time, different things seemed to matter to me- memories, frivolity, people, relationships, houses, home, cities, friendships, haircuts and the list is endless, really. And life goes on doesn't it? What's strange is, once you move from point to another, the previous item seemed to not matter at all.

So I've decided to let go a lot more. Maybe some questions really are not meant to be answered. Maybe it's okay to stop searching for a while and just be.

But honestly now, does any of this really matter?

~

Aimlessness

is when you are running away, so long so far

But there's no one you are running to.

~

Etched in ink

Like pencil marks, them memories
I'd like to keep
So I can erase the scratches,
Trim out the ends
And stare at my perfect piece.

But etched in ink is every wound,
So hard to erase
Harder still to keep,
And etched in ink are the joys too
Never knew, they too hurt deep.

Time can be a funny thing,
For it has it's own ways.
Listen to me, it never would
Yet leave me, but amazed.

You know ink marks?
They fade away, they do.
Leaving behind traces
Of a rather melancholic hue.

And falling leaves,
And rusting iron
And cloudy skies
And you.

And lonely nights
And sultry eyed
And paced breath
My lips blue.

But etched in ink is every wound,

And inked are the joys too

But time can be a funny thing,

Ink marks fade away, they do. 

~

Disclaimer

This should probably have come in earlier.

So, my dear readers (I am sure I can count that number on my left hand, but am victim of hope), I have been getting a lot of responses to my sudden outpour of activity on this page and while most of you oblige me by complementing my writing skills (which am sure is diplomacy considering this is more scribbling than writing and no, am not being modest, I really do not think very highly of my scribbling skills), you have also asked me if all is okay in my world.
So, for the record, I really am fine. I know ninety nine percent of my posts have a morbid undertone to them and some are even far from subtlety, they are in-your-face dark. The truth is, I write continuously, in an uninterrupted flow of thought. A lot of what I write is pure imagination, fiction, if you want to call it that. Some of it certainly stems from real experiences and then there are parts that reflect others' experience, not mine. I never did expect a common reaction from almost a lot of people I know to be on the lines of finding me a shrink.

Just a few pointers that elaborate the current phase in my life and how/why I blog:

• Work. Work. Work. there has been a LOT of that. It dies down sometimes, for a week in between, but that's a short lull before the storm. I am certain I am not indispensable to my organization or that they cannot function in my absence. Heck, am sure I do not contribute at all to that large pot of money the owner of this capitalist enterprise sits on. But theres just been a lot of work, weekends in office, work on the mind, launches, projects, confusion et all.
• The life outside of office has been relatively dull lately. I am  in a sort of self imposed social exile. Reasons aplenty and pretty details, might I add. But in short, I am doing a lot of thinking, I am saving myself up for a trip (Yay!) and I really did need a break from being the 'social butterfly' as one would put it. No, seriously, I am liking the comfort of my bed and super soft blankets and yummy home food for a bit. 
• So all of this leaves me with blogging as a relief. Also, am pushing myself here, to break away to write stuff different. There are two reasons I blog (write). Firstly, its my constant source of relief, the best outlet to my expressions and the only one I can trust enough, to be honest. Secondly, I really want to retire as a writer and all this while am trying to figure out if I really can write stuff that is publish-worthy someday. I am questioning my ability to actually write poetry and just pushing myself left, right and center.

So all's good in my world, guys. Well at least as good enough. Currently, the mood swings are being a bitch again. My temper is all over the place, really! There are so many different layers of thought and each one is running its own course. 

A need, a fight

Stability, fright

A droplet of desire,

Eyes shining bright. 

Adios then! I better get back to fighting with my sleep to write another depressing, dark and unnecessarily heavy piece on painful memories, having loved and lost, shadows and secrets, lingering sadness and intentional denial as if sorrow is the only emotion I have ever known. 

~

Untitled Two

Spread my arms
So wide and so far
Looking up at the sky
Remembering a journey turned sour.

A life left behind,
That life left ahead.
The life I lead now,
The conflict I dread.

Thinking, reflecting
Avoiding; interrupting
Craving, complaining
Needing, deceiving

A shy denial
Eyes burning all the while
Just for me,
Will you go that extra mile?

~

Salt and Pepper

A distant whistle,
  
The baby's laughter.

Whimper, whisper,

But let her scream in pain.

~