Monday, December 28, 2009

cloud thoughts

i set my head upon a cloud
of crimson dreams and purple thoughts
and lay awhile and thought aloud
of happiness and what it brought.
of what it takes
to mend heartaches
and bury your love into golden sand
and watch as it crumbles into dust
and melts away right from your hand
and wondered why
you just cant see
the golden bursts your thoughts could be
the unicorns and fireflies
that flitter away from faithless eyes...
so set your head down on a cloud,
listen, as i think aloud
let your heart run away with the sea,
and find out,
what happiness could be.

sometimes when i see you i just feel like telling how much i love you
but i never manage to say it out loud
i always just smile and hope you understand
hope that you feel it too
hope that the crinkle around your eyes means the same thing.
sometimes i could burst with loving you
so i say something that you laugh at
and hope that your laugh means that you love me too
i try putting it in words sometimes, but it never really works
i keep calling you things; fireworks, woodland creatures,
but really, its because i love you more than you will ever know,
and i dont know how to explain that to anyone.
noone wants to listen anyway,
but i'll tell myself
over and over
and know
that someday,
you'll know too.


silver ribbon-wrapped surprise
hidden under the corner of the tree.
rainbow light sparkling from your eyes
twinkling closer and closer to me.
do you know how beautiful you are?
with your green apple smile
and raspberry eyes?
my bursting firework, twinkling star,
Christmas ribbon-wrapped surprise.

Saturday, December 26, 2009


She's so beautiful,

As she lies awkwardly curled into restless sleep.

She twists strangely

And scrunches up her eyes,

Only to fall asleep again with her mouth slightly open.

Her soft, messy hair

Tangles into a halo above her,

As she sleeps, so serene

So solidly human-

My daughter.

She is alive-

I spun her,

Out of faintly glimmering

Gold and bronze ethereal sand.

She is laughing,

Every movement magnified

Into something celestial, yet entirely real.



When she sleeps,

She lets her face sag into its natural craggy beauty.

Her arms around me slacken slowly,

Her tight, protecting embrace lessens,

And thuds abruptly into exhaustion.

Photographs never do her justice

They never capture her loud belly laugh

That she find so easily from the depth of her being,

Her crinkly smile when I say something silly,

Or her eyes when she is sad.

Her hand slackens its grip on mine

Her bulky form

Made an eerie, shapeless ghost by her sheet,

Shifts gently

As I wonder,

Whether she knows how much I love her.

Christmas Lights

my tree grew taller this year
and the string of lights
wasn't long enough to go around.
the gentle yellow glow
finished halfway through the tree
so the bottom half of the tree
had more sparkles on it
to make up for the glowing top half
the prettiest decorations went on the bottom
so that the top didnt look too bright
but eventually
the top and bottom
both didn't look quite right.
people are small on the inside
tiny little white eggshells
waiting for someone to shatter them.
sometimes, their hearts can stretch to fit anything,
almost anything.
i'm sorry.


she stared out into the sunlight
with a question in her eyes
a question,
that was drowning the sun
in its complexities.
what Was?
was sunshine and happiness
and comfort and love
what Became?
was confusion
what Is?
is something
the sun couldnt tell her
she had to wait
till the sun set
and the shooting stars
she once wished on
showed her
what magic could be.
she waited and waited
for the stars to fall
a beautiful nucleus of fire
flashing in an instant
to vanish forever.
Their star fell
they began with a falling star
and ended
like one.


she sits in a corner, and folds clothes all day long. mechanically, her hands move, flip over, flatten, fold in, fold in, flatten, fold up, stack into a pile. all day she sits, and folds.
he squats on his haunches and stirs. all day long, he moves the ladle in a circle, stopping occasionally, to taste, and then empty the big vat into smaller containers, fill it up again, and stir and stir. all day long he sits and stirs, until his three vats are emptied and sold, and the sun has set, and he has pocketed his handful of grubby notes, and starts to pack up and head home.
they sit. and stare into the gloom. they sip the tea he has brought home in a steel urn, slightly stale, from the worst batch of the day. she stretches her arms, stiff from repeating the same motion over and over, and then washes the dishes. she squats and washes, rinses, turns the tap off, wipes, and then gets up and stretches. He gets up, and sits on the charpoy, and she squats beside him and presses his feet. they sit and wait. wait for the stars to flash a miracle into the sky. wait for the moon to open up, and reveal the glowing gleaming heaven that she has hidden under her dome for so long. they wait. and then they lie down, turn over, and go to sleep. they breathe, in and then out, all night long. and heaven syncs herself to their breathing, pulses rhythmically and mournfully, and resigns herself to the fact that humans will spend their time waiting and wishing and folding and stirring, and miracles one day, will become ordinary too.

Friday, December 25, 2009


you light up my sky
with golden fireworks,
and blazing stars
and an opalescent, pulsing, neon moon.
wish on an airplane
if you can't find a star
because you know
whatever you wish
will always come true
my beautiful golden sparkle
fizzling around my heart
i love you.

wilted leaves
burnt at the edges
curling up slowly
with noone to watch them
bright magenta zerbras
still perfect
slip dejectedly
garish oblivion
for more artistic bouquets.


exhausting poison seeping through me
fatiguing me
breaking me
word by word
syllable by syllable
you'll destroy me one day
break me to pieces
shatter me
hurt me
rip me apart
inch by inch
dissect me
one cell at a time
thats what you want
and i'm tied to a chair
as you ruin me
ruin everything.

Monday, December 21, 2009


if nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies.
if things didnt move and turn and tick, nothing beautiful would exist. perfection, in an instant, exists only because of all the whirring and whisking and churning. like cake batter. the fluffiest cakes are whisked the longest.
but sometimes, brownies taste better.
is there really a divine cycle to life? does what goes around really come around? is everything weighed and measured and balanced, so that everything you do is, payment, for something else?

Saturday, December 19, 2009

laughing together
our heads bending closer
smiling at each other through a tangle of messy hair
feeling you breathing
snuggle into my shoulder
holding me
loving me, through everything you do.


glowing dangerously
orange-grey lumps of fire
flickers amongst the rocks
translucent breaths of orange and yellow.
in a city of coals
everything i touch scalding me
tempting me closer
sinking into a stupor
of burning oblivion.

Friday, December 11, 2009

sleepy voiced smile
surprised eyes
tigger laugh
i love you.


smile into my heart
close your eyes
open your heart
lie there in silence

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


little startlet
rainbow bubble
baby toes.
one day
you'll smile again
and the world will be round
and kangaroos
will hop across your dreams.
flickers of giggles
pass by your eyes
to drown in newfound sorrow.
don't cry,
please dont cry,
the world will fix itself by tomorrow.
and your little joys,
and small smiles,
they'll be back in the blink of an eye
and firefly breaths of contentment
will wash over you
to make you sigh,
and fall asleep with your eyes closed.
you'll find your dragonfly soon
you'll fly away on it
to laugh
and to bubble and burst
it's alright to climb on alone,
you'll be alright.

Monday, November 30, 2009


a bubble that bursts
on a little girls nose
the gurgle of a baby that just woke up
the bark of a tiny puppy
that's just discovered its tail,
the giggle of two year-old's playing hide and seek.
the light that sparkles off the face of that watch
the grin of a Cheshire cat
with the wonderment of Alice.
a laugh
the kind that gets stuck in your tummy
and doesn't let go until you laugh even harder
a twinkling bubble
that grows bigger and bigger
and explodes into a burst of rainbow soap suds.
you're winter sunshine
and summer rain
a squirrel nibbling
a twitching rabbits nose
you're a
pink pony
purple sunrise
green elephant
white rainbow.
yellow light
and smiles
and quietness.
I just thought I'd let you know,

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


a slow rush of feelings
little explosions of understanding.
small joys,
building into something beautiful.
never claiming to be permanent,
but for that, all the more real.
something that swells slowly
in swishes and thuds of happiness
and become less trauslucent as it grows
something so indefinably beautiful,
nothing, not even words can do justice to it.
i love you.


somehow or the other
i got lost on the way
and stepped into a puddle of sunshine.

Sunday, November 22, 2009


you make me smile
with everything you do
every time you look at me,
every time you laugh,
every time you move,
you're my smile.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


i never got the chance
to tell you how beautiful you are
how your eyes lit up my heart
and your voice made me smile
i never got the chance
to say i love you
and hear you say it back

the world hurts
as it crashes down around your ears

i never got to say I'm sorry
I'm sorry
my squidgy, I'm sorry
more than you'll ever know

i wanted you to be perfect
and wasted the beauty away.

aching loneliness.
i never wanted it to end this way
i feel like one big fat cliche
i feel like I'm repulsive.

i don't think all those things.

you know i love you,
you're You.
and i know,
whatever i say
you'll love me too.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


to the clock's incessant ticking
as it slows to a halt
to the whoosh of the trees as they whisper the secrets
of the birds that they keep hidden
listen to that peacock in the distance
and wonder
how such a beautiful bird
could have a voice so harsh
listen quietly
to the din of the cars
in such a hurry
to get to where they have to go
and listen
to how each car sounds different
each swish of tyres on tar is different
and listen
to how quickly each one moves away
keep listening
look out of your little window
and see the shocking unreal green
of the trees bathed in the glow of rain
at that little black bird with the long tail
that doesn't make a sound
look at those crows
as they caw away
and frighten all the pigeons
the little brown pigeon
as it bobs around the floor
looking for morsels the crows left behind
close your eyes
and feel the swish of the the wind
as it talks animatedly of the places it has been
and plays with your hair
and then gently bathes you in serenity.

will you ever see all that i saw?
will you see the birds,
hear the wind,
and feel the magic?
no, you have eyes only for me
your vision of perfection
you will see nothing else
and expect me to be flattered
you have eyes only for me
for how beautiful you think i am
you do not see the tiredness in my eyes
and the hand that is slowly slipping away from yours.

Thursday, October 15, 2009


the slightest puff of air,
a gentle breath
drawn in by the heavens
in a whoosh of happy suprise
the swirling breeze
like a puffy cloud,
floating on wings of its own
rising higher and higher
in slow-building joy.
the surprise
that the first gust of wind brings
the sudden beauty of
the sunlight filtering gently through the clouds,
and transforming the mountains
into a patchwork quilt of green and gold.
the mountains
frigid blasts of coldness
sudden warmth
the companionship that a crackling fire brings.
stories and laughter,
the gentle glow of togetherness.

Sunday, September 27, 2009


You're beautiful
like the angry rain.
and the spot of sunshine on the hills,
peeping between the shadows of the clouds.
and when you giggle in your sleep
and mumble secrets that no one will know,
everyone can't help but smile.
your swishing hair
and swirling eyes,
magnified voice and
complete authority..
your baby soft skin
as you curl up into sleep,
is the only sign of how small you are.
your manic laugh,
that is twice the size of the rest of you,
your exaggerated surprise,
your sudden bursts of hysteria
and incomprehensible fury..
for someone so tiny,
you're larger than life could ever hope to be.

Thursday, September 24, 2009


forever ends here
comes to a screechy grinding halt
and stands with folded arms
waiting for me to paint the final stroke
on the canvas of our story
was never really ours
and it is running away
no, not running
calmly away
maybe if it had run,
it would have been easier to watch it go
it slips away
and its gone


when i tell you i love you
little do i know that
what i say
is written in stone,
my epitaph.
every word i say
fizzles in the air
and trickles gently away
with a sly smile
knowing full well
that it will see me one day
my epitaph.
every thought
as if alive
scurries over the gentle, pliable granite
in soft indentations,
hard lines and curves,
blurry words
that mean nothing to passers by
but every thought
every word
everything i do
waits for me
in the crowded, humid hallways of the end
to see which will be chosen as my epitaph.
"I'd rather leave a thought behind than a child"
what thought?
how do i know
that the thought that i picked out for You to remember me by
will remain carved into your memory?
or the memories that i wanted you to forget
the pain
the hurt
the embarrassment
will not stay etched longer than the rest?
how do you know
what your epitaph will be..
how many epitaphs will i have
how many thoughts
am i leaving behind
how will i ever know?
that is why we fear death,
not because we don't know what lies ahead
but we can never trust the things we leave behind.

Friday, September 11, 2009


have you ever wondered about Nothing? about how as a race, we simply cant deal with it?
we create mountains out of molehills, and live in ivory towers. and all the while, introspect and reflect, and think and think and think. we simply cant deal with voids, mental or emotional. blankness is always negative. negative spaces, as certain people reiterate. so why are negative spaces such a bad thing? canvases have balanced landscapes, still life's always are centred, always carefully "composed". posters and book jackets and curtain patterns are all beautifully thought out, right down to each set of perfectly aligned four corners of the repeat pattern. and negative spaces are a no no. and the same goes for each of our lives. nothing is always filled with something, if nothing else but thoughts about what could possibly fill it.
when we lose someone, all we can do is think and think and think about why we lost them. why they did that to themselves. why the world did that to them. we think of all the possible reasons, all the problems, and all the other people who will be suffering.
what that person left was a void. a blankness. in the lives of each and every person who was aware of her existence. She made seven hundred people cry for her, and at least two hundred let it affect them enough to be upset for more than a few hours. she broke all of our hearts, simply by not existing anymore. but why did our blank eyes fill up with tears, and our insides suddenly fill up with a strangely heavy foamy feeling that we cant get rid of even now?
how can she not exist anymore? we cant deal with nothing. we will fill the nothing with something or the other, even if all that we can find to fill it with is tears. because when anything beautiful ceases to exist, whether it is a torn up painting, a lost scrap of though that just doesn't come back, or even something as fragile and beautiful as a human being, we will feel the Nothing. its strange how Nothing seems close enough to almost be tangible sometimes, a wisp of a concept, that brushes our subconscious, but slips away, and to make ourselves believe that it was Something, and it was there, we fill it with scraps of anything that is at hand. the glass, whether half full or not, is still never empty. because beautiful things, even when they become nothing, exist as a concept, if such a crude word could be used. and beautiful things, however distant they were when they existed, become what we need them to become to us once they do not. they become a source of grief, a source of learning, a source of pain, a source of conversation if nothing else.
what she didnt know is that nothing is worth becoming Nothing, because once you choose to do that, you become whatever everyone else wants you to be. you become shaped by fragments of other peoples possessions and memories, and exist as nothing but a blurry Picasso style mosaic, with your nose on your chin and your heart plastered on your forehead.

Friday, August 21, 2009

She glanced around fondly, at her favourite place in the world. it was as though a puzzle piece from the past had dropped onto the fast changing street, where the buildings grew taller and barer and cars grew louder and shinier. there were no shiny cars here. the man across the road still had an impeccably white astra, that his driver, who's hair had grayed only marginally in the last thirty years, scrubbed down every morning. the new car was not for show, it stood discreetly covered in the corner, as though it knew it did not belong.
The walls were yellow. it was incredible that even though they were repainted almost every year, they began peeling withing a month of painting. the cracks in the walls and the creeping wisps of the rebellious peepul trees were perhaps the most beautiful thing in the world. there was a time when she had hated the creamish-yellow, called it ugly and cheap, but she loved it now, it was perfect. as she turned the car into the uneeven driveway through the cracking white gates, she smiled as she saw the garden peeping out from behind the low wall. it was gorgeous, with every imaginable kind of flower climbing up walls and crawling along the grass and standing straight and tall trying to catch your attention as you got off the car, to entice you to slip in just for a moment. the nimbu tree was heavy with magnificent green limes that had a scent that couldnt be found in any vegetable market. home grown ones always did.
the plastic tarpaulin that hung in the uncertain space between the garage and the garden wall, that hid the gardeners tiny home, where generations had grown up and married and had babies with the same big brown eyes, the same warmth, knack for learning and affinity for happiness, but were carried away to the village to the same fate once they turned eighteen.
homes were places for broken hearts, she reflected. homes were never really sanctuaries, they were usually the place for greater turmoil than the rest of the world.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Close Your Eyes

close your eyes
and imagine that the wind is taking you with it
to all the places it wants to go
close your eyes
and watch
as it takes you through its phases
anger, misery, lust, euphoria
to the slow melancholy whistling
at a broken hearts window
slowly building..
gasp as the fury wrenches at its soul
at the pain the wind left behind
the shattering silence
the shades of quiet.
feel for the poor heart
left crying over the broken glass,
and then move on with the wind,
close you eyes
and watch
from a distance
all that you were.


close your eyes, and imagine
that you flew away with the wind
to the place in his heart
that never lets you in
close your eyes and imagine
that the wind blew away
but that hollowness inside is here to stay
close your eyes
and picture
what its like to be free
free from all feelings
what its like to be me
close your eyes, can you hear?
the dawn rush away
the overrated sunrise,
the insignificant day
close your eyes and just watch
as the world goes on its way
and nothing but the silence
is ever here to stay

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Queen of Hearts

she grinned manically at her reflection, as it grinned manically back at her. it was perfect, this one. ice cold, with red veins running through it, giving it the slightest gleam of pink. she impatiently kicked the pieces of the last one to the corner, someone or the other would clean it up, and she secured her new one into place and stepped out of her closet. she smiled at the people she passed on her way down, her pale pink, ice cold smile. her nose held itself a fraction higher, as she got used to the coldness, felt it become a part of her persona. her last one had been a waste. she had only selected it out of curiosity, being suddenly drawn to its gentle, engulfing warmth and it then had shattered into a million pieces, shaking her badly. and now she was going to fix the problems she had caused with it. she found him, looking away. and strangely enough, she felt a thawing inside. a gentle thaw, not melting just yet, but not ice-cold anymore either. he looked at her, and the thaw grew considerably. shaken, she walked away quickly, and the freeze resumed. she got used to the new frostiness, and lived accordingly. her life became a snare of perfection, idealism, coldness, theatrical composition, artistic gestures, and ruthless lies. she rampaged and ravaged, and destroyed everything around her in an effort to hurt him, but he remained untouched, oblivious. he was so unreal, she couldn't understand him. he was nothing like her new heart, he was not ice-cold, but still not warm and comforting. he wasn't real, yet he was, he wasn't harsh, but he wasn't gentle. he wasn't angry, he wasn't sad, but at the same time, he wasn't completely indifferent. her confusion grew into anger, red hot, and in her whirling fury she began to demolish everything around her in an effort to understand. and suddenly, it burst. the tiny pink veins swelled and pulsated, it throbbed for an instant, looking thrice its size, and then shattered into tiny fragmented icicles, that dissolved in a fraction of a second, leaving her with absolutely nothing.
she shrieked in incomprehension and misery, and wept as she ran from the destruction she had caused. her perfectly constructed, carefully broken, and magically reconstructed cardboard world swayed and toppled completely as she fled, leaving behind an blank plane of nothingness. she ran to her closet to throw it open, clawing wildly inside. she gasped as she realized. the gleaming white perfectly polished racks were empty. her hearts were over, they were all gone.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


The sun began slinking below the horizon somewhere on the other side of the planet, leaving behind a trail of vaguely muddy darkness. There was nothing more dissatisfying than an invisible incomplete sunset. The hyena stepped slowly out of the shadows, and smiled sheepishly, exposing sharp teeth that could have been there by accident. She gave a short, sharp, foolish sounding laugh, and for an instant, the flickering darkness showed a shape that could have been anything, even human. The laugh came again, the big beautiful eyes shifted sneakily, almost in embarrassment, and the silhouette of the hyena was back. She crept slowly deeper into the shadows and the laugh was heard again, lower, longer, disguising. The shaggy mane was just visible behind the rocks, and a glint of razor sharp teeth shone out of the black. The hyena walked gently towards her prey. It was still, completely lifeless. The spoils a lioness had left behind, remnants of a brief triumph and eventually boredom. This was what she lived off, other people's leftovers. But she was unique in her own way. Her low laugh made every animal prickle up its ears while maintaining a disdainful distance, and her convincing, sheepish demeanour fooled them into coming closer. She always ate her share quickly and inconspicuously, and then let her magic take its course. She would laugh and laugh, and grin shyly, and then pounce upon the remains of the carcasses with gleeful abandon, but looking around apologetically, almost as if she was not entitled to enjoy herself. All the animals would watch enviously, and snarl at each other for no apparent reason. Her howling, tempting laugh would sound again, convincing them that there was nothing on earth more delicious than the chewed up bones. And then, all hell would break lose. Somewhere in the pandemonium of animals shrieking and clawing, biting, snarling, the bones would lie sadly forgotten in a corner, and somewhere in the shadows, a shaggy mane would slink away, and a sad, lonely laugh would be heard softly in the distance.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


to notice little things
is the most beautiful part
to be able to see the small things that you remember
to see them leap out of your sub-conscience
without you meaning them to
to hear you laugh at them,
and to laugh with you,
knowing that i know when you remembered that from.
talking to you
and listening to you,
as you make me laugh
doubting you, doubting our moment,
but for just that moment,
letting go of all the doubt,
and being able to smile with you.
i know that smiles fade away,
smiles are as short as a quick breath
that passes forgotten,
so its alright for you to smile
you know it means nothing.
you forget the smiles,
but i remember them
hoard them up in my heart,
treasure them, count them,
and count them again,
and know that i have a part of you all to myself.


The opposite of love is not hatred, it is indifference.
-Elie Wiesel

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

she stared at the perfect view, and shivered in the wind. the kite in the tree cawed, and swooped around looking for food for her nesting babies. the trees mumbled to themselves, the birds shrieked to themselves, the bats probably shrieked to themselves too as they swooped around in the gathering darkness. she'd like to think that someone coming up the stairs would be struck by the composition of the scene, a miserable girl with her hair blowing around, bats, sunset, plants, and even palm trees in the distance. it was what she strove for, perfection. composition. everything she did was deliberated, she cried in places where people would stumble upon her and think of how touching it was that she wanted to be alone, she did things with cold blooded calculation, but with the greatest depth of emotion anyone has ever known. her head was a paradise for psychologists, they would happily wander around the labyrinth for centuries, unearthing new doors and openings every minute. split personality much. she depended on people, yet pushed them away, she ate away at relationships and them pined for them back, she set limits for herself and changed them sporadically, she broke hearts, broke her own, and never really mended it, just picked out a new one from the shelf.
but her hearts were over, out of stock.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Full Stop... .

I was just thinking.... and i suddenly though of full stops. and written words and how marks on paper can change a life, and most letters and sentences end with full stops. how one tiny little speck can end and conclude a sentence of any magnitude. its a bit of a let down isn't it? a life changing sentence, that holds all the meaning in the world for someone, to end with a tiny speck. also... if there are three specks, isn't it funny that if one speck can conclude a sentence....three, four, of the same specks show that the sentence carries on indefinitely? how the same little speck combines with other specks to make something utterly contradictory to its original existence?
now, our existence is made up of statements. right?
move onto questions. if you think of a statement, any statement, doesn't the statement answer some question or the other? what if you worked backwards, and thought of a statement, and then thought of the questions that lead to it..... an answer exists only because a question does, so doesn't the answers existence depend on the question? then, isn't the answer the answer to hundred of different questions? Then, isn't statement made up of hundreds of questions? and the statements, which are made up of hundreds questions, essential to our existence?
so a statement is made up of questions. therefore, our existence is made up of questions.
if you think of it, more scientifically, each letter, word, or mark, is made up of hundreds of dots right? dots are full stops, so each word is made up of hundreds of full stops. but one full stop concludes all those words. just one. one extra.
almost the same way a statement is made up of questions. but inevitably, there comes one question that cant be answered. but THAT question exists to supplement OUR existence
our entire existence is a collection of fragments, and patterns that those fragments form. so (however cliched it may sound) its like a weird sort of a puzzle right? but if all those pieces were there, and fixed, we wouldn't be able to shift them around and rearrange them?
its like we all are "jali's", rather, our senses are our "jali's", only bits and pieces of the puzzle filter into our conscious existence. like we're looking at everything, taking in life through a tea strainer. and bits of it are being filtered away. which is why we can shift around those puzzle pieces, and change things. because there's always one piece missing. one full stop extra. one question extra, that the answer to is missing.
our perception and our senses fragment our existence, seeing, hearing, feeling, the presence of the senses filters out the missing bits and doesn't let them into us.
is that what dying is? not just us blinking out of existence, but our SENSES blinking out of existence, so that that missing piece is added to us? and we cant shift them around anymore, the pieces aren't in our hands to shift around, we cant try to make them fit anymore. they fall into place on their own.
our existence is fragmented by our senses and perceptions, but it is that fragmentation that makes us whole, that completes OUR existence and allows us to have an existence, because one the pieces are fixed, so is our existence, it isn't an existence anymore, its just stuck and cant move and cant do anything, its just there. and doesn't exist.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

A rambling wrinkle

I'm getting sick of the whole blog thing, i never know what to say. I'm not going to tell you about my ridiculously pointless and boring life because you don't care. I'm DYING to write one of those informative opinionated intelligent posts about current affairs, but i don't know very much about them. i also wanted to write a warped, messed up post about global warming, full of wrong information, and then hope some kid doing an environment project happens to come across it, and fails because of me. but then i though that would be mean. I'm sleepy, and i have a ton of studying to do. sigh.
i re-read the Second Coming today. i like Yeats a lot. he has some soul, and he knew how to write about what. we've all felt like that, but not in so many words. i loved the first half of the concept of the gyre. i googled it, and its deliciously complicated.
the "gyre" is this concept, this fantastical vortex, that represents a span of time. to be brutally simplistic. and it spins and spins, and spins and spins, and like a top, slowly begins to spin out of control. what i want to know is, this gyre thing, is it like a tornado? you cant really conceptualize it, because its intangible, its time really. so what if time doesn't tick, it spins? time is a gyre, and sometimes, in some moments, it spins out of control. suppose we don't take it in the context of an apocalypse. but on a smaller scale. sometimes, doesn't it seem like time is a bit off centre? moments can stretch for longer than they should, hours can pass by in lightning flashes. what is time really? the fourth dimension and all that. but time is a gyre, and its warps and twists can never really be understood by something as complicated as a human. A Wrinkle in Time was a beautiful book. not so wonderfully written, but when i read it, it was so different from all the other fantasy stories that i fell in love with it. the witches travelled by "tessering", or in their words, "wrinkling" time. its a bit odd how many different ways we humans come up with to conceptualize things. we have this insatiable thirst to have everything figured out, and will keep thinking, and then having babies who will continue our thinking when we're gone, just to make sure that the world is constantly shifting and whirling and confusing itself in order to give us some more to think about.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I Stole the Colours from your Sky

The musty red of the swirling dust
The fresh warm brown scent of the rainy earth
The gentle whiff of moonlight.
The opalescent yellow glow of the last streetlamp
The tinny metallic harshness
Of that abandoned corrugated iron sheet
Rusting into oblivion
In a myriad of specked orange.

That forgotten shade of red
That isn’t found in apples or roses
But is twice as deep and beautiful;
The deepest aquamarine
That is found in the depth of the sea
In that perfect instant
When the sunlight lets off its tiniest glimmer.
That gorgeous silvery glow of happiness
In the dark-woman’s eyes
That no-one notices
Because the rest of her is colourless
The gentle warm yellow
Of the streetcat’s eyes
As it lurks in the murky dank blankness.
The sky at sunset-
Not where the sun dips
But behind you
The riot of blues indigos grays and purples
With the tiniest smidgens of orange and pink…
I stole all those colours from you sky
Because you've never seen them
I stole the colours from your sky
And you didn’t even know
Your world turned into shiny plastic
Into the perfect blend of primaries
I stole the depth of the colours from your sky
and painted my world
into Heaven.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

The Edible Rainbow [Desna :)]

She reached out her hand.
A delicate, translucent vision of divine flesh, as it moved with infinite grace, and dulled its surroundings in its pale radiance. She reached out her pale hand, and with the tip of her finger, touched the sky, where a gentle ripple of infatuation spread over the cosmos. Her soft touch sent the stars cascading to her feet, with sparkling sighs of ecstasy. She smiled at the little stars as they ululated in adoration, and burst into the brilliance of supernovas, as they gave up every ounce of their being to her.
Her hand reached again into the sky, the stars were not what she coveted. She parted the skies gently, and they opened their heart to her with satiny smoothness. The Sun, the most majestic of all, glowed as bright as he could, but she passed him by with a condescending smile. The planets spun into a frenzy of ecstasy, and whirled and twinkled into bursts of brightness, and spun the universe into a vortex of euphoria. She stood still.
In the midst of the whirling swirling madness of the universe, as it unleashed everything it had upon her, simply craving for her touch, she stood still, and time stood still beside her. It breathed gently into her ears, as the whistling madness of her surroundings dimmed and whirled itself into oblivion, and like a curtain being whisked away, vanished to reveal a blank expanse of existence, with her in its midst.
Her heavenly hand began to grope frantically. her eyes gleamed with hunger, as it gnawed at her belly, and clawed into the vastness.
and then she saw it.
Her urgency dimmed, her complacency returned.
She moved slowly towards it. Tucked away in the corner of the yawning white blankness, she saw the last step towards her goal.
She reached out her delicate, translucent hand, and lifted it gently, as it pulsated softly, powerfully.
She lifted it to her mouth, and slowly began to savour what she had searched for.
Violet. gentle serenity, powerful, fragrant beauty. her eyes closed with delight, at the depth of the flavours..
Indigo. deep, violent, yet calm and benign..
Blue. gentle, playful, light and teasing. Her eyes lit up with delight, and gleamed with triumph.
Green, fiery, peppery delight; soothing freshness.
Yellow. soft, squishy mellowness, delicious warmth.
Orange, sour brightness, rebellious vibrancy. she couldn't swallow it in one gulp, she forced it down her throat as it did its best to bursts onto the blank vastness.
Red. her eyes gleamed, and her graceful hand clawed at the colour desperately. her eyes reflected the depth of the burnished red, as she slowly swallowed, savouring every mouthful.
Vivid, sensual, dangerous flavours mingled in her mouth, as the blankness dissolved into Nothing.
She stood alone in Nothing, with time slowly vanishing, its breath growing shorter and shorter. she had eaten the rainbow, flooded the cosmos, and destroyed the universe.
And she stood in the centre of the fast-vanishing reality, with the rainbow undulating and pulsing in her belly, as the world faded,

don't bother.

i can't really decide what this should be about. i doubt if anyone except the bored people who know me will end up reading this, so i don't think it matters much anyway.

so this isn't going to be pseudo-intellectual, I'm not very intellectual I'm just reasonably intelligent. it isn't going to be poetry (though there might be some of that later), because, well, I'm not very good at writing it.

maybe i can write about how the magazine is driving me crazy and MUN seems like a pointless joke that no one understands. but you don't really care, do you.

i could write about how I'm going to go up to the terrace and watch the sun set behind the ridiculously massive palm trees that most definitely do not belong on a driveway of a five storey house in chanakya puri, but it really is quite beautiful and since I'm in a rude sort of mood i don't want to ruin it for you.

i could tell you how excited i am about the holi party as i will hopefully have a fun holi after fourteen years of un-fun ones (holi with bhawani, holi with unknown people, holi with bhawaniX10, holi being dumped, etc), but since you all have heard about that already, i wont.

i could tell you about the stupid little pigeons that keep trying to build nests on my windowsill and having their heart broken every time the not-so-intelligent domestic help opens the windows.

or maybe, i could just shut up, and wait until i have something real to say.