Impulses...physical...chemical...some nerve!

Gone are the pangs of words unspoken and just a void remains...in the abstract desert of imagination...nothing blooms...Clouds loom large over the placid lake that are my eyes now and the sun goes down for more than several months. I have drifted away to the farthest end of the earth. 

I try the hardest to find a glimpse of hope...a ray of lost sunshine when I realize...its not that the world has gone quiet...I have turned deaf...it's not that there is no sunshine...I have gone blind...the grief that is holding my savage heart a hostage is not of the world but a Frankenstine I've created...my own personal nemesis.

In each of us, a world gets created by the choices we make and I was doomed to have my destruction brought upon by none else but me. I don't know why I was born with the spirit of a fighter...I have never quit...when everything goes down I still have hopes of constructing everything over again...even on lost grounds. I don't know how but somehow I don't ever know when to realize it's a battle lost...and somewhere because I always believe there is a comeback...I make it happen...almost all by the fierceness of that desire...that belief in myself...that unflinching resolve to create a world I want to live in. 

Destruction is not always incidental...sometimes it is planned well in advance for complete annihilation is perhaps the first requirement to create something that never existed before. There has to be no 'before'. Things have to start from the beginning of time. Sometimes it actually is better to have no memories. Now, if only, it was possible to completely erase them from the deepest trenches of our consciousness. 

So, here I am...unwinding time, making it run backwards and wiping away every fragment I have created ever. The air carries with it the whiff of autumn, it's high time I let the yellowed, dying leaves disintegrate. HCN...played a big role in the life coming to the form it currently is...I guess it's high time to take it out of the textbooks and taste it...for real!

Murderous glances...

If someone is murdering me...I would like this song to be played...somewhere in faraway memories. It comes back to me like a forlorn echo...like a withering Gulmohar bud in spring...like a semi-dried Sheesham tree.

Did you know that when temperature falls to sub-zero, waterfalls freeze?

While questioning...did you really believe that I was in love with you...ever...even for a moment? I think my love is like this song that I keep listening to like my life depends on it...I don't understand a word yet I understand the song...its like knowing someone inside out without even looking into their eyes once.

What kind of eyes does a murderer have...are they cold, calculating, fearsome or are they just like everyone else's eyes...like yours or mine?

When you say...I have the eyes of a murderer...aren't you afraid? What makes you believe I'll spare you...just because I am in love with you...a love you don't even have belief on? Don't trust me...not with your life...not with your heart...not with your emotions...not with your fears...smiles...sorrows...not with your laughter...poetry...silences.

I am learning the art of goodbye...be wary...someday I'll really gather enough courage to just quietly collect myself and leave without a trace...I promise it will be like I never existed...I will wipe out every memory...even the ones tattooed on the walls of your heart...the ones intertwined in your dreams...the ones dissolved in the ink you use.

Premonition...everyone who is to die young feels it...feels it with every passing moment as the grain of sand falls in a sand-clock. It's a small life...beautiful though...heartbreakingly beautiful...but then...if only...if only...

Sunshine and a little rain

Hey Sunshine!
It's been long since anyone had called me by that name...I still turn to that...involuntarily...and always want to see him there...just him...just the way he was when we broke off...standing exactly there...wearing the exact same colour of clothes...that half smile and that rainbow in his misty eyes.

Well...it wasn't all the same...but it was him and so I wasn't complaining...he just came around and hugged me...ya...right there...in front of all those stupid on lookers...my feet were dangling a feet above the ground...did I forget how tall he was...and he would always need me at his height...so he would lift me up from ground...twirl me around like I am still a 16 year old girl and make me feel like being in love for the first time...all over again.

And in love I was...had always been...I don't know how to get over people...move on...blah blah...I haven't given a damn...ever. So there I was basking in a warm sunlit cafe as only Bangalore can have and smiling at him like I had just won a lottery or something...he used to call me sunshine...but in reality...he was my sunshine...the warmth that engulfed my heart every-time I thought of him and all the smiles we shared. All that laughter and chasing around and playing bompasting and god knows what...he was my best friend...boyfriend...agony aunt...mentor...jukebox...captain...poetry-listener all rolled into one. God, how I loved him!

To bump into him on the busy streets of Bangalore...well that was something...and to hear him calling not my real name but a name he used to call me long ago...that was something too...and me still turning back at that name...gosh! that really is too much to take in...my head is still reeling at the effect...and his hug still lingers with the same fragrance in my memories...pine and cedar and open mountain crisp air. The only thing that has changed over the years is...I have learned to let go...so this time when he said goodbye...I smiled...and waved him goodbye and said a quiet prayer in my heart for his happiness...and for sunshine...and for myself...as I thanked god for being able to love someone so deeply and being loved equally in return.

And I am still stuck at this quote from the movie...2046...
---
That day, six years ago, a rainbow appeared in my heart. It's still there, like a flame burning inside me. But what are your real feelings for me? Are they like a rainbow after the rain? Or did that rainbow fade away long ago?...
---
Will I ever stop loving you?

Lost and found

I have been missing him for quite a while...I have actually grown up with him...a major part of my week was spent thinking of what he would write on this Sunday. Karan Thapar's Sunday Sentiments in Hindustan Times has been one of the first things I loved to read ever since I picked up a newspaper to read. It continued untill 2005 in IIMC when I subscribed to the Indian Express...being utterly fed up of the severely non-real stories in Hindustan Times...being a student of Advertising I normally used to find out the real motive behind writing a real article or coverage of news. One of our favorite pass-times in the hostel was taking out any newspaper and tearing it apart with arguments on who has paid for what article and if actually the editor was biased.

It wasn't as much a time of change but in that age I was perhaps looking for something better...Indian Express had a survey conducted in IIMC and a simple message was conveyed...of sunshine stories...everyday in the newspaper there would be one positive news on the front page. I realise that's what I was sold out on...the one positive story. It made me shift from my newspaper of childhood...my comfort...my favorite columnists...turned over all. While in IIMC I normally always read the sunday paper in the library...but then projects caught up...and then exams and then the hunt for a job...and then the actual job...then a boyfriend who did not read hindustan times...et al.

I could never get my hands on Hindustan Times again...I hate Times of India so much that for the 6 months after  my marriage that I was in my joint family sasural I stopped reading the newspaper altogether. I shifted to Bangalore and the first thing I did in my home was ask the paperwala to get two newspapers...TOI for kunal and IE for myself. I still was missing Karan Thapar.

And after a long period of missing him...I had almost forgot his name...day before yesterday it started to haunt me again...all I remembered was his white haired photo that came along with his article and that hint of a smile...the nice good natured gentleman I loved to read about. This time I keeled in...I looked it up on the internet and after years of procrastinating about not reading my favorite writers on the internet and only on real paper...I finally read an article by Karan Thapar today.

Those that can smile with a broken heart

17.11.11


I just realized I won't ever be able to write to you using my fountain pen...you would then know that the valley of flowers I have described in my letter has a river flowing through it and that river is full of salty water. You would see the mist clouding my happy sunshine falling through the window while I write to you in winter afternoons. In fact I think I would have to resort to writing mails to you again...typing doesn't capture the tremble in the fingers while writing a white lie.
---
I write the way people pray to alleviate pain. 
In prayers there is an unknown god...there still is a disbelief lurking that your prayers may not be heard...he might not answer you insignificant pleas for a relief...a narcotic, maybe.

The pen, doesn't discriminate...it heals as it fills up pages...words stuck in your brain tumble out and you start to breathe a little easier. 

And then I thank God that I can write. Ahh the irony of it!
----
And you question fate and you question faith.
----
Ahh...me...never bother, I'll just be fine.
I still have my pen with me. 
I'll write till it stops hurting...in the end it always does.
---
Those that can smile with a broken heart are the ones who know how to plant white lilies in the fault lines that have formed
---
Loved and lost. Cycle is complete.
Are you happy now?
---
You left me stuck in a living hell.
Who is gonna bail me out?
---
And I practice for days on end, mentally stressing on the words, 
'I hate you' 
while knowing very well that when we meet, I'll simply look at those eyes then the only words able to stumble out will be
'Hate you, I?'
---
Falling in love...
:) :) :)
yet again...still it feels like first love...

I can't still believe how I hadn't heard this music before, how could I...I mean how could I.
I had a wallpaper of Kurt Cobain way back in 2004 but that was because he was incredibly handsome and there was something very very beautiful about the pic I had got from a colleague's desktop. 

I see him strumming and smiling and singing effortlessly, his eyes...oh his eyes...that pain that creeps up at times...and that smile...ahh...

O my my...I am in love with Kurt :)


---
Ahh...the tyrannies of love!
---
When someone is able to hurt you. Real bad. That is the time you would taste real fear. Because that is the time you know deep in your heart. That person has a great control over you. And you have none over yourself. 
Sigh!
---
Aquellos ojos verdes

The memory of that day has started to blur around the edges. There are some fuzzy characters, a little soundwave that echoes of the walls of memory. A peeled wallpaper here, a coffee machine token there. Air is still dense with cigarette smoke seen through burning, red eyes. The day passes in a jiffy and all that remains of that memory is relegated to black & white. THe only thing that remains lifelike in that portrait is a caption written in green ink at the bottom white portion of the photograph.
'His eyes are brown'.

12/11/11
---

Tyrannies of love

Some people come in your life just to completely fuck you up from the inside...to break you down, toss you around, play with you with the innocence of a child, leave you utterly heartbroken and when you start falling apart you only begin to wonder why you still can't wrap your head around the fact that you love them. still...in spite of and because of all this...you question your belief in yourself and you ability to pull yourself together piece by piece. 

And one day you realize that you have actually gathered around all the pieces and stuck them together...and that's the same day you realize that you haven't put the pieces at the right places. Your heart is still frighteningly close to the memory of his eyes. 

You wonder when/if it ever gets over!

And finally...the pain sets in...the irrevocable sense of loss...the real reason you feared love in all its ferocity, it's destructive power raises its head. You writhe in agony, lose nights of sleep...and in the search of an anesthetic you dare to ask the person who put you through all this(mind you, you are still in love with him) if he has a cure.

And then...you are labelled a MASOCHIST!

Impermeable

Listen
Don't breathe
Quiet
Dead silence

A tear just
shattered
The fragments
unleash a tsunami

A limitless
depression
submerges
my existence

Words become
impermeable
gloss over
the real pain

Crude stitches
don't let me
fall apart
nor heal

Now. Wait.
I am not
reborn.
Yet.

Hope.
Pray.
And then
come back.