Sunday, March 29, 2009

Just one of those days....

Today is one of those days. I feel like writing again. Anything, everything. Just one of those days when I want to type. No, there aren't really any built up emotions today, nor is there any story - No villain, No hero, No dancing. Interestingly, the words pop up in my head, just as I type.

One of those days, when that little thing your friend does, unknowingly, touches your heart and makes you smile. When you know you're closer to a person a thousand miles away, than you are to your next door neighbour.

Just that kind of a day, when the weather's lovely and the chai is perfect. When the songs remind you of the good times. I feel so orange today. No greens, or pinks, or blues. Just the colours of the sky reflecting off my soul. When the clouds add hues to the sunset in ways we never imagined. The flavours of the skies infused with the warmth of the cup.....

Just that time of the evening when you throw your head back laughing for no reason at all. When every smile is contagious, and that burning candle spreads more happiness than the light it dispels.

Just one of those days...

Friday, March 27, 2009


यह जो राहें हैं, मेरे तेरे लिए
इन पर किरणों की छाया है
सुबह की अंगडाई में
यह खो जाए.....

Thursday, March 12, 2009


She drank her heart out
She drank as she pleased
like this ambrosia
it was her ecstasy

Her lips, moist all over
Her heart began to drip
The fingers reaching out
her soul ready to be stripped

He took her higher
than anyone heard of
A step closer to heaven
Further away from love

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Of black and white

Packed away in some shoe box
of the letters, photos and dreams
treasured for their existence
the faces,the eyes, the names

Of the sepia covered images,
Lined with layers of dust
The tears that dried up years ago
and the smiles that turned to rust

The colours but fade away
And the songs are forever lost
But that slight tinge of memory
is the warmth in this night of frost.

They build up and they perish
On every walk of life
Tucked away in one corner
trying so hard to survive

Of every anecdote told
of every memoir relived
the heart travels to the land
where you get more than you give

Painting her breath

She was breathing.Her every breath was deliberate, like a whisper. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. She was breathing. The sea waves swept her, throwing her on the sandy turf and then drawing her back, as if they couldn't make up their mind, as if they wouldn't let go. Those waters heard her breathing. Her eyes glistened in the sun, but they weren't celebrating life. Their hollowness could pierce through his soul.Her naked back faced heaven, and rose every time she drew the air in. Her arms spread out to capture his existence, in vain. Her hands clutched the sand she wouldn't let go of, ever. Not even if he told her to. Colours splashed the sky. He struck that canvas with anger. His wrath created beauty. Sadness pervaded it. She was breathing. As if every breath she drew was to extol her being, to see him perish before her eyes. Her long crimson hair, the only part of her soul she couldn't control, flowed with the waves. Her body swayed with the sea and rose with her breath. It seemed as if she were relishing the moment. Her smile didn't give it away. Nor did the tear drop, washed away by the salty waters. She breathed every breathe, mocking him. Those whispers were louder than waves crashing on the shores. That deriding smirk. She lay there. Breathing. Relishing. Fighting.