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Planning to write a book, propelled by the prophecy of a Nadi practitioner, who had foreseen that I'll write one... But the fact is that I just do not seem to be able to get a hang of my own thoughts. Trying to stay positive and time and again return to the idea. .. hoping fiercely that I begin.
Its 4 years hence, and I guess I am doing it again. A lot has passed. Changed location, got married, had a baby. Planning to write a book and restarting this. This blog. Take 2. Let's see how this pans out. Will it flourish or confirm my doubts of having it in me.. that if at all i'm meant to write.

A Heart Touched Again...

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Vowed to never let another in Close, seal and put away I did But naive was I proved When time and tide moved When his pain sailed in Whose dearness I realized When I drank the pain in his eyes.  

When you leave behind a life…

When you leave behind a life There can only be fear, to mask which you fake excitement for the unknown future. Moments hence forward will measure “Have you made it?” Sorting the real from the lies becomes tougher with each passing moment Returning doesn’t seem to be an option Constructions of an alternate reality promises momentary respite Longing for the known…the simpler nooks and crannies can be an experience you’d wish for none

A Fleeting Glimpse of “Lunacy”

A woman she is or so she would have like to be categorized as, had she been aware of it. But she wasn’t. It was yet another mundane ride to office. Having said that, a fresh new day, does manage to get me all perked up, for no apparent reason what-so-ever. So there I sat in that bus, at my favourite window seat, self-absorbed and snug on a winter morning, as it approached a regular stop on its daily route. Peering out, a glimpse shook me out of my smugness. A woman disarrayed in literally every sense of the word – unclothed, ‘disoriented’ and in absolute mess, squatted on the pedestrian path. Strake naked, without a shred of cloth on her dirt-coated back (stirring clear of further description), she sat trying to figure out the reason for the furor around her, as the passers-by and the bystanders gaped at her and passed lewd comments on her obliviousness. All of a sudden the world seemed interested in her. Smiling under a confused expression, she seemed to be delighted at the ruck

No. Not explaining or analysing anything. It’s just a broken string of reflections.

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I feel this moment… this very one. It’s good. Peaceful…one with myself, I am at rest . It’s devoid of pain and fear… I am me for now. I lay down my pretension, let go of my inhibitions and give myself up to the time and the moment. I hear my thoughts…it’s been long since we met. A million hopes fly by- my wishes and fantasies…to fulfill which, I run. Have lost count of how many they were. But for now, they are not bound to me. This moment in time …. It’s me. We no longer let ourselves be. The race is on…day in and day out. And on the way all that’s left to show for it are the people we hurt, the tears we didn’t see, nameless faces, the words unspoken, the help not lent, the moments lost, thoughts unexplored…this rut that we call life, has left us numbed. There is no denying the remorse that we live with. But then weren’t these the compromises that we drew to make this life, a little more bearable, as we run to feel it all, see it all and live it all? And even when the finishing line i

His self-esteem chose to eat out of a waste bin than to hold out his hands and beg…

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I stood there waiting for my friend to arrive. I was getting annoyed as he had taken too long and it had been a tiring day for me. Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, shielding my eyes from the glaring sun, I peered to gaze as far as possible, hoping to see him hurrying towards me, but to no avail. He was nowhere in sight. Having nothing else to do, while I waited, I started watching the people passing by and the ladies selling ethnic Indian artifacts on the floor. There were shops all around me - three big names in the fast food chain, a famous shop selling milk shakes, a man selling cold drinks and mineral water from his cycle cart, a beggar girl selling roses and a corner shop selling imported perfumes and other toiletries. The workers at an excavation site, just a stone’s throw away from where I stood, were creating a racket with their power drills and other tools. Everyone was busy. People were walking by rather purposefully… all had some dead line to meet...a bus to b