pass me a little salt :|

What is that blot on paper?
A neat handwriting revealing to you the deepest secrets the world could hold and just on that line when the hypothesis turns to fact there you have an ink blot. A tiny one, true, but a significant one nevertheless.
The food served is exceptional, presented right, but that little less salt ruins the main course.
One has the fantabulous dessert in the offering after a sumptuous meal but that one spice that you craved for is missing.
You get felt all over but the wink is that is missing.
Those moments when you crave for the attention you are carelessly walked over.
And when u could handle any thing under the sun you get the rock to pester you.
…….yeah can you just pass me a little salt?

Numb.

The world comes crashing down.
I feel no pain.
Am I on dope or in a deep slumber?
Expediency has brought me to waste.
Have been torn and ripped apart;
A million stabs on my back.
All this without the convenience of a gash.
Blood clots and cakes, invisible by the makeup.
Pushed into a place I don’t belong.
Am I on dope or in a deep slumber?
Waiting for the fall to overwhelm me.

evening.

An elephant, its trunk sucking in air.
An airplane and the merry-go-round of the fair.
I see Zeus’s throne and yes the Himalayas, the abode of Shiva all in shades of blue. Every shade thinkable. The deepest of the blue; turquoise blue; the blue of the seas and yeah the blue of the sky…

…I had clouds visiting me this evening.
Clouds all around all shapes and sizes,

Stratus came in first. Feathery and light…
Spread over the sky…a lovely drizzle came about, cool water; purifying.
Over the mountains came over the mighty cumulus overpowering the stratus which finally bade me farewell…the cumulus thundered like a villain in the middle of a movie right before the intermission…
…Then there was the wind…cumulus tried to fight and put on a brave face but they had to change their mind and well started moving westwards…
The sky cleared and the cirrus came in with the winds’ consent.
It was that time of the evening again. The sun was parting and at that time that part of the sky was scarlet whereas east was a luminous blue.
The sky slowly draped itself in the darkest indigo and brought in the night.
Tiny little stars popped out in the sky and I said bye with a smile with the crescent of the moon beaming back at me.

Woke up a balmy afternoon
Saw the breezy blue sea.
Black boats dotted in the blue lagoon.
Just right...aah fantasy!!.
Surfers galore.
But not a sound they made.
Striking coast guard loitering about.
Enchanted by the sea?
Suddenly he looks at me.
Yells out loud.
All of a sudden, all so old?
Sea turns black, boats turn white.
Surfers transferred into uniforms…
Lagoon is gone it is the good old black board.

The wait…

…The wait seemed endless. A new morning dawns and in no time dawn sets in. where does time go? Time runs at lightening speed, but the wait seems endless…

Every cloud has a story to tell.
A story of longing of hope of patience, of passion, of love and of wait,
But the wait seems endless.

There was a peculiar bond she shared with the clouds. No friends, no outlet to her emotions; but the clouds seemed to understand her. They reflected her emotions,
Her anger depicted by the gray clouds on the verge of bursting out, longing to shower down, longing to pour her heart out. But the winds seemed to blow them away. Her love, her happiness depicted by the woolpacks, promising her sun shine

Clouds wern’t one of the many signs that guided her life. She was complex but yearned for small gestures to brighten her day.
Yes she was waiting. Waiting for what? She did not know. Waiting fir whom? She never found out.

far away.

Liaisons with grief…
Going strong since eternity.
Lust masked amid love,
Despair draped in hope;
Obscure images registering a face…
A face: “far away “

A bittersweet sarcasm
Passion hard to fake.
Life torn and ripped apart.
And the Philter drained.
Obscure images registering a face…
The visage… oh so intangible.

I love these lines…

“O! Poor unthinking human heart! Error will not go away; logic and reason are slow to penetrate. We cling with both our arms to false hope, refusing to believe the weightiest proofs against it, embracing it with all our strength…

In the end it escapes ripping our veins and draining our heart’s blood; until regaining consciousness, we rush to fall into the snares of delusion all over again”.


-“ the postmaster “
Rabindranath Tagore

Till the end of time.

Lustrous moonlight shimmers bright,
Tearing the mantle of the night;
Stars of anticipation dotted in the navy sky

Many an imaginings get wings to fly.
I glance about, I find you near,
The darkness though, is what I fear;
Every instance I dream to fly,
My gullet at the vista runs dry.
I conjure castles in the skies; but,
Would never depart, wouldn’t even try.

Your gaze fills me with strength intense
Emotions run free, heeding not a fence.

A gaze may mean things many,
Some things to you and some things to me.
Never fail to return a gaze;
Go away now and you shall never regret.
tough times bring changes ,
but heed not those blemishes.
Things unobserved remain beautiful,
Unscathed, virgin as in our day.
Stars of hope will shine in the navy sky;
Lustrous moonlight will shimmer bright.
And love will last till the end of time।

-with arnav.

rains.

could there be hope?
could there be light?
could there be anything that is bright?

life has just ceased to be,
and here,sets this melancholy
god sent rhe rain
what good did it serve
when misty eyes saw it all before
it drained away all that was left
for me to clench on hug and pair.
the clouds made it all grey

grey grey was all around.

The winter rain washes it all...

A new beggining or another end ,
just to live it all over again.
The chill runs down my spine,
with the goosebumps tellin me a story not entirely mine.
The birds chirp, the trees sway,
the wind blows it all away.
The afternoon dotted,damped by the grey clouds,
me here, wants to shout out aloud.
Ha! the rain damps and blurs my speech,
and pushes forth this new beggining.
A new beggining or an end, to live it all over again.

an unfitting me...

far away;
a distant land
a distant memory;

around me,
a place unknownan
an unfitting me;

about me,
no one knows
maybe no one will;

for me;
a life to live
and an unguarded will;

My Liberator

My heart, it sobs;
My eyes, they weep;
As the time slogs,
and the clock sleeps.

The time seems to stop,
in face of a ravine deep,
Was here I to drop?
the light from the cloud gleams.

The light dazzles;
Shining , tearing away the gray.
Shimmering leaving sadness astray;
traveling and taking me along.

I live again;
I love again.
I fly awayI let the light take over me…

..My light my liberator

The song the blue bird sang..

I heard the rain ,
On my window panes;
I looked out ,
And saw not far about;
A blue bird,
On a branch,
carefully, perched.
It sang a song,
Yes to it, it belonged;
Hope in sorrow,
Life in existence,
Yes the bird sang,
The song for me..
The blue bird,
On a branch , carefully, perched.
It sang a song ,
Yes a song that was for me.

come again blue bird.

The question.

Some things have the same situation in life, as that of water enclosed in a rock.
This water in times to come will freeze in the rock and shatter it.
Who is to be blamed in such a scenario?
Is the water guilty of its nature…it is water’s nature to freeze.
Or is it the fault of the rock which enclosed water.
What does one do when faced with such a situation?
Cry and wail in despair. Or, in silent suffering, wait for the rock to be shattered.

This rock resembles the phases of life.
Time is water and life the flow.
Water freezes in the rocks and the flow stops for a moment.

Water never looses its identity but the flow changes forever…

A friend of mine suggested…

Be a rock through which water flows freely, easily.
Do not allow the water to freeze.
Do not allow any one to control the flow…control you.

You are your biggest strength. Do not go looking about for security.

I have a question…

What is that kind of a rock through which water passes easily?
Porous rocks…will it be a rock then?
A cold heart…an indifferent heart…one which is not affected by anything.
Is this the price one has to pay?

Far. wild.

Trying to get worn to being,
Trying to wing the first trip;
Trying to soar above emotions,
Working against the denominations.
Cracking the mould of demureness,
Breaking free of the harness;

Running far…
Running wild…
And the incongruity: no delight.

Living with the Demonisation of thoughts,
And the articulation:
Of love with lust;
Of passion with rebellion;
And of crossroads with choice…

Running far…
Running wild...
With no providence in sight.