Thursday, October 14

closed

I've come here to pull the shutter down. Can't bear the sight of my posts, the stink of my thoughts and the dirt of recycled words. Maybe it's me again, being tired of myself. Love to everyone who reads. Life is beautiful. Bye for now.

Saturday, September 25

i'm obsessed with beautiful people
and their beautiful eyes
and the beauty with which
they bat their eyelids
to cover up their lies

Tuesday, September 14

since then

When i first started writing this blog, i had no idea what i wanted it to be. I was wondering if any of it was me. or un-me. I revelled in its obscurity and anonymity. It should be more about the music, than the musician. Or so i felt. More about the words than where it came from. All i wanted to do was ride with words. Wherever they took me. And i found synonyms. Of expression and of soul. I started communicating with words scattered across blogs. Words that coalesced together to form identities. people. personalities. friends. I've loved each one of them. One of them i've fallen in love with. At times when i'm dry of posts, i wonder if i'm relevant to this blog anymore. Or vice-versa. But there is stillness in this space. It's like the lakeside. Something that pre-existed facebook and twitter. Something that's more about reflections than projections. Especially when life is taking turns more dynamic than its motion. So much has changed between me at twenty-two and twenty-five that sometimes, i need to string the posts together and trace the locus of where it all began. In six months i'll be done with the b-school. Sometimes i wish i could press a rewind button. Or Pause. I thought i'd sort myself in two years but i'm coming off it with greater confusion. I need to reconnect. And recover.

Thursday, September 2

dim, dim lights.

I've scattered myself all over the place, over the last so many months. I'll start putting it all back together. I fear this course will end quicker than i thought i'd take to sort myself. Homecoming, tonight. Late evening.

Thursday, July 1

.

why does this feel so unfamiliar, almost like we're strangers once again. only this time, too old to be conversant and too lost to make sense.

Saturday, May 15

i'm not the he who used to be
if you came here looking for me

Monday, April 26

Sweat

I haven't written in so long that even the rant now seems unfamiliar. When there are so many noises playing in the head, little is left of the inner voice, more than a quaint murmur that sparsely tries to comb the frayed synapses before drowning back into the constant noise. Sometimes i wish i could just sit at the base of a calm, azure pool, hoping my breath outlasts the ripples in my head. I cannot get myself to listen to music long enough, nor read. A crippling restlessness refracts almost everything that i try to put my mind to. And it gets tiring at times. Here again, i cannot write any longer to rant any better. But i guess it's better than not writing a post. Until greener days, cheers.

Thursday, March 25

summer rain

When you stop seeing beauty
You start growing old
The lines on your face
Are a map to your soul

When you stop taking chances
You'll stay where you sit
You won't live any longer
But it'll feel like it

I lost myself in the summer rain

Just as you find me
Always I will be
A little bit too free
With myself

I lost myself
Now there's no one else
In the summer rain

Tuesday, March 23

bland

i feel bland. just not the same. feels like i've drifted too far from myself. i want to let go. for a few days. until i start caring again. about anything in particular. about myself. about people. places. things. the disconnection is incomplete. i've stopped enjoying my thoughts. i'm tired of myself. tired of sleepwalking through life. tired of bouncing. tired of sleeping. tired of sleeplessness. not bored. just tired.
i'm returning to bombay for two months. but it has stopped feeling like home. i'm not excited. not thrilled. i wish i could just turn the other way and catch a bus to hosur for all i care. i'm tired of unfeeling. half living. and leaving. for a few days, in a faraway place, i just want to be. to live and to see.

Saturday, March 6

between darkness and light,
sunset and moonrise,
the dusk of Holi
nineteen eighty five,
twenty five years back
i was born to be alive

Wednesday, February 24

gibberish

i have a prostate problem in my head. i'm not as fluid as i used to be. nor fluent. it's a 'stuck in the box' routine and i realise that the blog is not too far from turning three. three and malnourished. what must be done to shrug off this ferric curse that jars every chain of thought from breaking into the erstwhile thrill of wordly sorcery that now lies lost like memoirs of magic, stripped naked by science. why must every sentence refuse to make sense in hindsight. including this.

Sunday, February 21

a change of seasons brings about the wilt and the promise of bloom is lost forever, like the colour that'll never again, be green.

Monday, January 18

such is the misery of this night
i have a pending summit,
a blog to feed
and test in the morning to write.