There's no time to breathe. She doesn't want any.
She's scared if she has the time to breathe, she'll open her eyes, turn around, and run away yet again.For her its just a eerie song she's dancing to. One that's as pretty as its dark, even with her eyes open.
For a change the dark is comforting.Its a cocoon she's feeling her way through, more aware than when there was all light and she'd have the sun shining in her eyes, blinding her with obscure un-kept promises.
The dark is unfamiliar, cold but benign.
.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Smoke
Its not like its not hazy any more.It probably is more than ever before.
But now she knows better.About this smoke that isn't without a fire. And that it isn't necessary for her to breathe it.To lose her way in it.She has to find the fire though. No doubts about that. She needs that fire to hold on to, to warm herself, to burn in.
Wonder why she loves the winter more than summer then, if she's fascinated by fires so much? Is it cos of how cold she really is ?
She's probably asking for too much of herself.
The smoke won't clear if the fire is to burn.
.
But now she knows better.About this smoke that isn't without a fire. And that it isn't necessary for her to breathe it.To lose her way in it.She has to find the fire though. No doubts about that. She needs that fire to hold on to, to warm herself, to burn in.
Wonder why she loves the winter more than summer then, if she's fascinated by fires so much? Is it cos of how cold she really is ?
She's probably asking for too much of herself.
The smoke won't clear if the fire is to burn.
.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Absolutely Everybody
" Have you heard this?
"Familiarity breeds contempt and absence makes the heart grow fonder"
"hmm.. N familiar absence ?"
"I wondered about this for a long time before i made up my mind that its familiarity and not absence , more like an 80-20 split "
"Fonder Contempt ?"
The conversation couldn't have been for real. Such conversations are rarely so, so masked are the smiles, words and intentions .
But it happened, and happens in everyone's life, every once in a while when the familiar world just does not conform to the reality as it is. When they slip into the mode of looking for a model to predict happiness , for all.
But then can you ever really predict happiness ? can u every really apply logic to feelings? She blurts out out a big NO.
Maybe cos she truly feels it cant be so. Or maybe its her ego that stops her from looking for a pattern to her randomness. Almost as if she is proud of it, and cant let go.
Maybe it is because when you fit a pattern to feelings, its the same as logic. And what would result is a tarnished version of the raw, pure instincts and emotions.
Maybe its all a way to hide
.
"Familiarity breeds contempt and absence makes the heart grow fonder"
"hmm.. N familiar absence ?"
"I wondered about this for a long time before i made up my mind that its familiarity and not absence , more like an 80-20 split "
"Fonder Contempt ?"
The conversation couldn't have been for real. Such conversations are rarely so, so masked are the smiles, words and intentions .
But it happened, and happens in everyone's life, every once in a while when the familiar world just does not conform to the reality as it is. When they slip into the mode of looking for a model to predict happiness , for all.
But then can you ever really predict happiness ? can u every really apply logic to feelings? She blurts out out a big NO.
Maybe cos she truly feels it cant be so. Or maybe its her ego that stops her from looking for a pattern to her randomness. Almost as if she is proud of it, and cant let go.
Maybe it is because when you fit a pattern to feelings, its the same as logic. And what would result is a tarnished version of the raw, pure instincts and emotions.
Maybe its all a way to hide
.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Putting pen to thoughts
If it could be summed up. This is how life would be summed up.
Cant thank the author enough....
https://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=148092698568484
Serenading Life
Of Orange Skies and searing hope
Of almond sands and endless banter
Of Blue Seas and resplendent chimera
Of violet breezes and conspiratory smiles
Of white brunches and cosy cameraderie
Of aqua brooks and resplendent musings
Of dazy walks and fuzzy mush
Of amber sun and burning desires
Of rusty moors and wistful broodings
Of almond sands and endless banter
Of red wines and unspoken promises
Of Vivid Balloons and woven dreams
Of Yellow and love
Of silver shores and hopeful beginnings
Of rusty moors and wistful broodings
Of Crimson sunsets and drenched nostalgia
Of ashen streets and unequal music
Of pearly nights and whispered yen
Of rainbows and sweet delusions
Of lilac umbrellas and boundless joie de vivre
Of golden waves and untamed ardor
Of Olive woods and hazy laughters
Of sepia evenings and knotted hands
Of soulful ballads and seducing life
.
Cant thank the author enough....
https://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=148092698568484
Serenading Life
Of Orange Skies and searing hope
Of almond sands and endless banter
Of Blue Seas and resplendent chimera
Of violet breezes and conspiratory smiles
Of white brunches and cosy cameraderie
Of aqua brooks and resplendent musings
Of dazy walks and fuzzy mush
Of amber sun and burning desires
Of rusty moors and wistful broodings
Of almond sands and endless banter
Of red wines and unspoken promises
Of Vivid Balloons and woven dreams
Of Yellow and love
Of silver shores and hopeful beginnings
Of rusty moors and wistful broodings
Of Crimson sunsets and drenched nostalgia
Of ashen streets and unequal music
Of pearly nights and whispered yen
Of rainbows and sweet delusions
Of lilac umbrellas and boundless joie de vivre
Of golden waves and untamed ardor
Of Olive woods and hazy laughters
Of sepia evenings and knotted hands
Of soulful ballads and seducing life
.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
No rain
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane...
The music on her playlist has changed.
It had to at some point. Tomorrow or today. Maybe yesterday. Maybe for the better.
She'll listen closely again. Pick up the melody. Sing in her head, hum along.
Maybe the melody is more beautiful now.
.
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane...
The music on her playlist has changed.
It had to at some point. Tomorrow or today. Maybe yesterday. Maybe for the better.
She'll listen closely again. Pick up the melody. Sing in her head, hum along.
Maybe the melody is more beautiful now.
.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
And once more..
Once more she'll look behind. And look ahead. At the same time.
Is it strange that its still the same and she isn't ? But then she's never been a switch. Its just been a breeze of wind that she's been in always. Flown with it. Somehow that's what's helped her survive she's always thought.
Today however she'll probably not flow with the wind. Maybe not survive either. But does she have a chance any other way.
Maybe she just rambles a lot. Wishful thinking they say.
Who's ever changed the wind and where it flows.
.
Is it strange that its still the same and she isn't ? But then she's never been a switch. Its just been a breeze of wind that she's been in always. Flown with it. Somehow that's what's helped her survive she's always thought.
Today however she'll probably not flow with the wind. Maybe not survive either. But does she have a chance any other way.
Maybe she just rambles a lot. Wishful thinking they say.
Who's ever changed the wind and where it flows.
.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Sands of time
She sees the past slipping through her fingers. She has an option though. To pick and collect the sands again. Save them from oblivion. But its the past she reasons. And how do you hold on to it forever. You only make your present. That's all there is.
The past could be a part of it. If you want.
But the memories of whats gone will go away too.
Past of today and of yesterday.
For once she's faster than them all. Not the one left behind.
She's the one who's ephemeral.
.
The past could be a part of it. If you want.
But the memories of whats gone will go away too.
Past of today and of yesterday.
For once she's faster than them all. Not the one left behind.
She's the one who's ephemeral.
.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Purple
She is indigo at times, she's a cheerful orange at others, sky blue to some.
But she is sometimes Purple. Been that of late. Her indigo with splashes of red. Red of the fire and the evening sky. Red of insanity. The indigo of the twilight and the break of dawn. As also the pitch of the night.
Her purple makes her who she is. Her smile uncalming and eyes wide open searching. Her red splashes in her purple dancing with the mirth of indigo.
Her purple makes her surreal.
.
But she is sometimes Purple. Been that of late. Her indigo with splashes of red. Red of the fire and the evening sky. Red of insanity. The indigo of the twilight and the break of dawn. As also the pitch of the night.
Her purple makes her who she is. Her smile uncalming and eyes wide open searching. Her red splashes in her purple dancing with the mirth of indigo.
Her purple makes her surreal.
.
The world in my head...
They say the world is big, huge, unimaginable , and we are specks in it.
So small and insignificant that our actions inactions are nothing but narcissicist words in our universe. They don't cause chaos except in your mind.
Today in her hazy world of smoke, she saw the world churn around. The world was still huge and vast and she still a speck. But this huge world was in her head you see. In her head. Inside it.
So the world was actually smaller than her. The world was because she is. Its huge because she's small. Its significant because she deems it so. Its unfathomable because she doesn't get it.
But when she saw it churn inside her mind and then overflow ouside, she knew the world is her. Afterall.
.
So small and insignificant that our actions inactions are nothing but narcissicist words in our universe. They don't cause chaos except in your mind.
Today in her hazy world of smoke, she saw the world churn around. The world was still huge and vast and she still a speck. But this huge world was in her head you see. In her head. Inside it.
So the world was actually smaller than her. The world was because she is. Its huge because she's small. Its significant because she deems it so. Its unfathomable because she doesn't get it.
But when she saw it churn inside her mind and then overflow ouside, she knew the world is her. Afterall.
.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Of ironies and funny ones..
Wonder how this really goes. The world's blue and she can't stop giggling.Guess she knows her spot quite well. Or maybe she's got that dude Einstein too much under her skin. Him and his relativity.
How else could one explain her indigo shades at other times ? when they are all tickled to death over trivia ?
Well, as the news goes , she's floating, way above in the stratosphere . Too far above. Seeing it all. Looking on from the outside . Even outside herself. Too unconnected. And she just can't stop the chuckles.She's sure no one's heard her yet .
.
How else could one explain her indigo shades at other times ? when they are all tickled to death over trivia ?
Well, as the news goes , she's floating, way above in the stratosphere . Too far above. Seeing it all. Looking on from the outside . Even outside herself. Too unconnected. And she just can't stop the chuckles.She's sure no one's heard her yet .
.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Confusing "optimality"
.. with reality!
There's something really ticklish about rhyming words that I just can't fathom.
They may mean nothing together, or a great deal . Whatever the case, the 2 pieces of 2 different jigsaw puzzles that just seem to fit together make a pic, a happy nonsense of sorts.
Just like those unconnected thoughts that mushroom all over the insides of your head. Ones far from the present and your reality , along with those in the then and there, and you realize how extraordinary it is to function at these extremely incompatible levels of thoughts simultaneously.
Can't stop laughing over it all.
PS: For this optimality problem u don't need a solver, u need a revolver..!
.
There's something really ticklish about rhyming words that I just can't fathom.
They may mean nothing together, or a great deal . Whatever the case, the 2 pieces of 2 different jigsaw puzzles that just seem to fit together make a pic, a happy nonsense of sorts.
Just like those unconnected thoughts that mushroom all over the insides of your head. Ones far from the present and your reality , along with those in the then and there, and you realize how extraordinary it is to function at these extremely incompatible levels of thoughts simultaneously.
Can't stop laughing over it all.
PS: For this optimality problem u don't need a solver, u need a revolver..!
.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Madness !
Ever wondered what it feels like to be in the center of a tornado ?
The world spinning around you, chaos , all too fast for you to hold on to , take a breath , catch a glimpse of it all , the world turning around ?
But its really calm at the eye of the tornado , cos as that dude Einstien says " Relativity " is the real truth.
Madness at the end of it all. She just stares around, looking in daze of the world passing her by, holding out her hand for the past that's undeniably changed and for the present that is as fleeting as the past.
Its calm at the eye of the tornado, but she's changed too. She was the past. N now the present. By the time she catches her breath the world would have moved to tomorrow in her tornado.
The world spinning around you, chaos , all too fast for you to hold on to , take a breath , catch a glimpse of it all , the world turning around ?
But its really calm at the eye of the tornado , cos as that dude Einstien says " Relativity " is the real truth.
Madness at the end of it all. She just stares around, looking in daze of the world passing her by, holding out her hand for the past that's undeniably changed and for the present that is as fleeting as the past.
Its calm at the eye of the tornado, but she's changed too. She was the past. N now the present. By the time she catches her breath the world would have moved to tomorrow in her tornado.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Sleep?
Maybe.
Its been a long long time since she's slept.I wonder if she even remembers when was the last she slept without a drink ,or a pillow, or a thought. Very comforting. Not really sane in this world. All three.
But she's been sleeping like that forever. With an alarm she knows she'll hear. Think about for a split second, switch off and sink back into that pillow , that thought.
Its her safety blanket. To hold. To count on. Cos that doesn't usually fail you. Comes unbidden whenever she wants to embrace it.
Its been a long long time since she's slept.I wonder if she even remembers when was the last she slept without a drink ,or a pillow, or a thought. Very comforting. Not really sane in this world. All three.
But she's been sleeping like that forever. With an alarm she knows she'll hear. Think about for a split second, switch off and sink back into that pillow , that thought.
Its her safety blanket. To hold. To count on. Cos that doesn't usually fail you. Comes unbidden whenever she wants to embrace it.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Time to get back to making no effort...
Ok. So she's tried running around, playing hide n seek , n just generally being obscure. Feindishly so. So much so that she's not sure what the point has been all along.
Was it all for herself ? or a result of what she wasn't outside?
Anyways, its back to being her. The way she is meant to be. The way she wants to be. Plain.Simple. Herself. n comfortable.
There r small nudges that threaten to push her over though.But then they will be always be so , no?
I guess que sera sera....
Was it all for herself ? or a result of what she wasn't outside?
Anyways, its back to being her. The way she is meant to be. The way she wants to be. Plain.Simple. Herself. n comfortable.
There r small nudges that threaten to push her over though.But then they will be always be so , no?
I guess que sera sera....
Monday, July 4, 2011
What goes around comes around....
Today I will take a diversion from the norm and just the 2 of us will talk.
About the ironies of life and how Im sure this has happened to someone before, and so the common belief that what goes around does really come around.
She of cors disagrees. She always does .
I guess its difficult for her to believe its so.Anyone before couldn't have seen this
fairness in life. Its deja' vu. The same confusion, only this time from the other side. The a fascinating irony . Both agree there.
In one sweeping moment she understood it all. Her mistakes and theirs played out an intriguing symphony. The players moved in and out, changed roles, turned towards, turned away , laughed and cried for what was said beyond what really was.
The flashes of this symphony are sudden and strong when they hit her and knock the breath out of her. And the only thing she can do is forgive them and wait for the next blinding one.
About the ironies of life and how Im sure this has happened to someone before, and so the common belief that what goes around does really come around.
She of cors disagrees. She always does .
I guess its difficult for her to believe its so.Anyone before couldn't have seen this
fairness in life. Its deja' vu. The same confusion, only this time from the other side. The a fascinating irony . Both agree there.
In one sweeping moment she understood it all. Her mistakes and theirs played out an intriguing symphony. The players moved in and out, changed roles, turned towards, turned away , laughed and cried for what was said beyond what really was.
The flashes of this symphony are sudden and strong when they hit her and knock the breath out of her. And the only thing she can do is forgive them and wait for the next blinding one.
Multitasking
No, she doesn't write when she is multitasking. Its only when she's not all there. When her thoughts overflow and there is this immense need to pen them down, record them, re read them, peak inside , look back and see what it was like then. Cos her facts are her thoughts.Her words. Her journals.
Never expected this turn of events but this blog has turned out to be a conversation between 3 people.
But guess it doesn't matter much now.
Never expected this turn of events but this blog has turned out to be a conversation between 3 people.
But guess it doesn't matter much now.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Mistakes
Its really not that difficult to not make mistakes.Its not exactly simple either.
All one needs to know is the difference between choices one makes and the choices one wants to make. The "should I"s the "could I" s. Come to think of it, that's really not all. That's a long task. To peer in, ask the right question and reply truthfully.
And then again just knowing isn't good enough either.
Its not like she has no clue how much her mistakes will hurt. Herself and others. And its not like its the only choice. In fact its not even the only choice she wants to make. When she steps out and looks within, she comes up with a 100 other choices she'd want to make.
And then she steps right back in, and nothings changed.
Its really not that difficult to not make mistakes they say.She disagrees.
.
All one needs to know is the difference between choices one makes and the choices one wants to make. The "should I"s the "could I" s. Come to think of it, that's really not all. That's a long task. To peer in, ask the right question and reply truthfully.
And then again just knowing isn't good enough either.
Its not like she has no clue how much her mistakes will hurt. Herself and others. And its not like its the only choice. In fact its not even the only choice she wants to make. When she steps out and looks within, she comes up with a 100 other choices she'd want to make.
And then she steps right back in, and nothings changed.
Its really not that difficult to not make mistakes they say.She disagrees.
.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Silence
Noise is a very funny thing. Somehow when its the noisiest outside is when its the quietest inside and when there isn't a sound around, all she hears are screams. Her own.
Ready to explode her head. She already scared someone might hear them, the screams, and get scarred forever by the terrifying visions in them.
Wonder why they say balance is beautiful, cos it just isn't.
If silence both ways is just not happening she'd rather drown her screams inside with those outside.
.
Ready to explode her head. She already scared someone might hear them, the screams, and get scarred forever by the terrifying visions in them.
Wonder why they say balance is beautiful, cos it just isn't.
If silence both ways is just not happening she'd rather drown her screams inside with those outside.
.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Charades
Its really all a game one plays with oneself. The endless thinking, talking, running, feeling, laughing , stopping suddenly and gazing at the beautiful windswept wilderness all around , and then getting back to the grind.
Maybe someday it'll all stop. Maybe not. Maybe she doesn't want it to stop.
But one thing is definite now. She'll be looking over her shoulder when the game's being played. You see, its not only her looking at the windswept wilderness. She's part of the wilderness too.
Maybe someday it'll all stop. Maybe not. Maybe she doesn't want it to stop.
But one thing is definite now. She'll be looking over her shoulder when the game's being played. You see, its not only her looking at the windswept wilderness. She's part of the wilderness too.
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