Monday, November 16, 2009


a harsh rain and soft music and you're working through the night but the fact that you have someone to be reminded of in such circumstances makes you smile as you look into your laptop.

time as a concept seems unreal and flawed, but you pause for a minute and feel a blush suffuse your cheeks because being in love does that to you.

if only you and i could be the same person just for a few minutes, sometimes.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


today, i sang out loud and found myself smiling because. i've discovered that i enjoy working alone and unrestrained. solitude eases the pressure of being answerable to people i frankly would not give a **** about, if i was not working with/ for them. i re- discovered my love for the weird - in myself and others. its that thing that makes me laugh and sing by myself and out loud. its the thing that makes people talk to themselves and day dream. while dealing all day extensively with dates and years, i thought back to a time, a few years ago, when i did not need alcohol to be hugely entertaining. i can still get that way sometimes, now its met with un- understanding stares that say "act your age". except, i'm still debating my age. but thats another blog post.

i've also discovered that rain can make even the most unforgiving city seem like home. it has been raining in mumbai all day and the effect is that of soft light falling on a harsh, time- worn face. the grim lines seem melancholy and the shadows in the eyes seem human. there's even the hint of a smile. i think the moods and vibes of cities are reflections of their weather.

there used to be a time when i associated mumbai with sheer youth. used to.

let there be love.

(November 08, 2009)

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

it is wanting to write. it cant post coz it worries about posting at work

it therefore goes home. and then gets involved in things like cooking, house- keeping, hookah- setting- up, harassing Him and flatmates and inundating people with messages and calls and suchlike and fails to switch on laptop. it is also paranoically allergic to the idea of looking at laptop screen after work. it is therefore a catch 22 situation.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

yet another post with a jim morisson reference

the future's uncertain and the end is always near...

let it roll, baby roll.. let it roll baby roll..

guess you can only say that happily if you woke up in the morning and grabbed yourself a beer.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

i am no longer 19. i behave like a juvenile around him because its the only way i will feel somewhat less jaded. but to everyone else and maybe in reality, i am hollow and embittered.
and so and so and so
we breathe
and live and get by
and keep the voices from rising

and so we colour
a faded navy blue
we call this a living
this wet thread
wrapped around our vocal chords
as we listen
to a thousand words of noise
and a banshee's scream
rises within quietly.

and so and so and so
we get by.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

with no direction whatsoever

my last post was on September 30, 2008. i no longer tell people "i write nonsense occasionally.". even that is untrue. however, i have been using people as walking personal diaries - i realise, lately, given that i am being used in a like manner, how annoying that is. perhaps, from now on, the things going on in my head will get posted on the Internet since there is no other place they can go.
ours was not to reason why
ours was not to make reply....
businessmen they
may drink my wine
ploughmen they may dig my earth
no one can ever own my mind...
in "East of eden", there is a passage about how a soldier's intellect is killed and beaten out of him and i dont think my work is doing anything less to me. i work. i think in the manner required of me by my work. i do other things because i would like to convince myself that i do not do things only because of my work and my need to escape work.
a list of things i genuinely want to do:
1. dance.
2. get my waistline to a point i can live with.
3. write. even if it is nonsense like this undeserving, self- pitying post.
4. read.