Rewind.

This too shall pass

is that a thought designed to comfort

or harass?

Ever wondered

what we shall be?

Ever wondered

what we should be?

The harsh word he spoke today

Who will know?

That little victory on friday

Those who know, will they care?

Living for the moment 

Isn't all its cut out to be

Is there any increment

In the brownie-points you've earned

Just for this life?

I am the best I could be

But I am not good enough

I am the worst I thought anyone could be 

And I still ain't bad enough

I am just another soul

Another hole

Another fool

Fooled by heaven.

and fooled by hell.

As my eyes shut

in wakeful slumber

I still don't know if it has been enough.

But I know I couldn't take anymore.

Here's to the next.

Cheers.

Rain.

This was the day that Party got wet in the Rain.

Brewing strong.

Discontent had no place in Party's realm.

Something was wrong.

Amidst the puffs and the cremes.

It had all started out fine.

The morning spent in tasting wine.

At a wedding and then at the scene of a crime.

The crime of living a lifetime.

And dying.

The night before that had been the same.

So had the century.

The lights. The drinks. The buzz.

Aah. It remained a pleasant fuzz.

It started with the disco strobes.

And ended with the Doctor's pokes.

And in between lay Party's Lands.

The jokes. The giggles. The hands. 

There was an Irony somewhere.

But Party hadn't ever met him.

There was Reality somewhere.

But he could wait.

But it was Joy which had its way.

You know her.

You've seen her on the simplest of days.

And in the sweetest of smiles.

Joy caught Party unaware.

In between a Rave and a Rant.

Before she felt the pull.

There was rain.

This was the day that Party met Joy in the rain.

The truth about love

"every song i sing...i sing for you..."

This is a line from a famous John Denver song...I don't know the history or reason behind this song...i dont know who he wrote it for...i will proceed on the assumption it was written for someone he loves...
Love is not about singing...love is not about dancing...that's just in the movies...i can't speak for everyone but love is something else altogether for me...
Maybe it's me...i don't know...but love is like standing at the edge of a cliff...love is actually jumping...because you are too crazy...not in love...but in anger...
Love is not being able to live with that person...not being able to live without him...
Love is being bored with the sameness of it all...love is hating change...
If there is anything is normal about love...i haven't found it yet...god knows i've looked...

One of those many nights when i lie awake after a fight, I wonder why...why I am subjecting myself to this. One of those many afternoons when the phone has been banged...i stare at my blank computer screen wondering...wondering if it's worth it...
When i see him smile the next instant...i know it is...for that moment...

All these moments have made three years...and i know that all the songs he sings are not for me...love is hoping that one day it might be...

Existence Bubbles...a nonsensrick

The Bubble has to burst one day...

The Bubble of birth
pink and soft
Incandescent as light
Alights the luckiest soul

Feature films passing by
Never a wave, never a die

If the Bubble burst right now...
The Earth
The Sky
Clumsy words, all collapse

Built on shaky murky existence
Dark as white
The night light

One word makes a paragraph complete
One paragraph is incomplete without meaning
But if words have no meaning
Is it an exercise in lyrical nonsense?

An attempt to undo years of dust gathering, choking, coughing neglect
Or is it neglect
Or is it inability

The pen moves but scratches no words
The ink flows but fills no copyright
Logical thinking. To hell with it all
Who gave me the right to mess up my head

Feathers, so soft...what if?
A vulture was to shed its feathers
I pick it up
Is it the right time to cut the bible with the feather...the vulture's aint it?

A bird of prey against a word of pray
Nature survives. And dies
The bubble might burst one day...

It won't.
I have it safe.
Trust me.
POP goes the bubble.

If the bubble burst right now.

Insomniac...
Do you know how it is like to suffer from insomnia?
Wait...
I'll tell you...
Tomorrow...
Am sleepy now...
G'nite...

Growing up

Age grips me...the onslaught of years
Imagination...fades...emerges...fear
Diplomacy i crave...now no more
Practicality...strangles my throat
Once...i danced...amid broken dreams
Now...i frown...amid silken sheets
Tension...holds me...in a migranic grip
Writers block...would be...a welcome slip
My Laptop...my captor
My Cell Phone...my jailor
I looked...jealously...at rain drenched freedom
Limousine...enclosing...once more my prison


Just one question after sentimentality...is this for real??? More later on growing up...hopefully in prose form...question again...does more prose mean less imagination?

Maturity from 20 year old me

Old post - just posted!
I believe in maturity...but does that mean I'm saying that I'm mature? That is a question which i ask myself everyday...(refer to tears). However just because i cry, does it make me immature? Does maturity mean keeping your emotions to yourself or does it mean having no emotions at all? Won't that make me either repressed on the one hand and a tyrant on the other? Would it make me mature if I could answer the above questions?
There are two parts to my life...rather two aspects of my personality...yesterday i discovered there is a third...there's the public face...mature...the private face....immature and the bathroom face...wet...ok...sorry sad joke...the third face is the one which i call the "falsely brave face" Sometimes its strangely mature...like when I am able to rationalise the fact that life has to be lived alone and i shouldn't have any expectations from anyone...and usually its plain silly...i get hurt and i get hurt for things which shouldnt matter at all...i'm blabbering...i have to remember this blog is not my diary...
There is a certain relative who is considered by all to be "the queen of immaturity" We laugh at all her antics...things like hanging her bag in her host's bathroom and then while coming out, looking at it and wondering why the bag looked so darned familiar...exclaiming to a friend that she had seen her husband in the market the other day and (surprise surprise), he had been wearing "pant shirt." I have always laughed at this rather elderly lady's exploits...especially at the fact that she is foolish enough to say this to everyone who would care to listen herself...why would anyone humiliate themselves infront of everyone in this fashion. If this isnt immaturity then what is? Is it immaturity then? The more I thought I about it the more I came to the conclusion that this was a kind of "maturity" which most of the so-called mature people don't possess...this is the maturity not to take oneself too seriously...you might argue that this is only prompted by her immaturity...i probably cant convince you...this is after all just my point of view...isn't it maturity also to respect other people's point of view?