No idea

Funny how many words I have typed till now and then pressed Shift+Home and Delete after that! There's confusion. There's contrast. And then there's madness.
But no spelling mistakes. Never. There's aggression. There's pride. There's confidence.
And still I try to find myself. There have been stages where I felt the light.
The light so bright I could feel it diffusing through my nerves. But they were followed by deep elements of darkness and filth. So deep, so roughened that I could barely breath. It was almost like I lost my senses. Back to square one of confusion.
There must a pull back mechanism which brings me back to the mess.
Now how many times have I thought I know myself deep down clearly as if I have touched the ocean bed! But hell no! It is not persistent. I still keep bumping into façades. One after the other. There is no reality. There's only madness, a confused madness. And boy this is worse than the physical pains! These mental structures are rusted and they scratch my skin, my innocent skin. And they shoot through my spine down to my knees and ankles. It hurts. It hurts badly.
There is pain. Pain. Head bursts.

We sat under the dim light, he and I.
The music could be heard from the other room.
Sometimes strong, sometimes soft,
Sometimes emotional, sometimes deep.
He was silent.
I was relaxed.
He kept his gaze on me.
And I...
...I cried.

Flames

When I was a kid I had lit up a countless flames inside.
And every day I dreamed with my heart burning with aspirations.
And every night I screamed with my sounds deafening my own ears.
Those were so close. So true. Right in my womb.
I could feel those kicks inside my body.
And every day I walked on those grounds of fantasy,
of my utopian world. It was thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.
Each pulse lived the dream. Each inch craved for it.
Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, I lived a dream,
thinking one day it would be a reality.
But some of the flames died out over the time. I couldn't judge the direction of wind.
Now I am out of my house. I see those broken windows. I see those creaking doors. I stroll around my neighbourhood. Guess what? The landscape has changed.
But the epicentre was my own.
I'm striving hard. I cannot behold these dilapidated structures. I have to rebuild from the debris. 
While some of the lamps are still alive, I'm refuelling them with fierce energies.
I want to feel. I want to cry my heart out. I want to exhaust myself to those inaudible beats.
I want to be alive. Again. With hope. With lots of it. I'm struggling. Struggling my heart out.

I bleed every night.
And in the morning I find myself
among the brown stains.
I am supposed to be shameful,
but I am not.

"Why aboli?"
"Because you are not the screen.
You are the projector."

It was a huge mental effort, to strip down, bare my heart and stand with shame and vulnerability as my only armours.

When she returned at the twilight, she found him engrossed in his work and then she loved him even more.

There are just as many wrongs as there are the rights.
A turn is both a left and right. Depends on which direction you are coming from.

Four letters

There has to be a feel. An emotion. A drama. Love.
There has to be a story. Characters. And a hero.
There has to be a reason. Decisions. May be a tragedy too.
Only then the four letters will come alive.
l.i.f.e.

Intimacy

When you do something, you belong somewhere, to some clan. When you change, you change your clan. The sense of belonging keeps moulding. There is perhaps no intimacy. No privacy. Nothing of your own shades. No true reflections. Yet you keep matching. Greys with greys. It becomes exhausting. And when you are exhausted with the world, you crave for intimacy. Then you take respite in womb of literature. And the more you read, the more beautiful you feel. The more beautiful you feel, the more peaceful you are. The more peaceful you are, the more intimate you become. With peace. With beauty. With a thought. And with that thought you try again the next day to do something. To belong somewhere. What a fool! You don't realise you'll lose it again. 

Foolish

It was a foolish talk.
A foolish expectation.
A foolish fakeness.
A game of fools.
And guess what....I won.

Solitude

an exquisite surrender...
like a tear drop under the spell of gravity...

My nails

I asked them if they want to be grown.
Came the reply: We have no purpose.
So I slaughtered and buried them under the old banyan tree.

You do, I do not.

It didn't seem nice
I wouldn't have done that
But my heart won't allow me the sin
So I'll forgive and try to forget
And write you a beautiful poem instead.

Sometimes the shadows of anonymity are much more interesting than the resplendence of familiarity.

Unreachable

When you read to me that night, you touched me deep inside without letting your hands off that yellow paper. It was slow and gradual, like wine diffusing in my senses. The warmth of your words comforted my skin. My cheeks felt the tears rolling down your cheeks. I could not lift my arms. I could not hold you. You seemed unreachable in your own world. Yet you touched me as if through a different dimension. The piano next to you played a familiar tune. I remember it was what I had asked for, to be played, at my funeral. I loved every note the piano was playing. I was drenched in fragrance of white flowers placed next to my bed. Candles and letters, they were all for me. I saw everything and felt everything yet couldn't reach anything. I looked at you. Your eyes were swollen and you were whimpering soft words of the first poem you had written for me. I looked beautiful in the white. I knew you loved me. And I loved you too. But how could I have told you? You seemed unreachable. 

Mode: Switch off.

I love going out alone, eating alone, sometimes talking to strangers or feeding the street dogs, watching kids play in the park and the elders do yoga in temple. Evenings are pretty. Much prettier are the mornings when I notice the nascent flowers, dewy leaves, gigantic trees and sometimes, if I'm lucky I get to spot pretty birds as well. I love the sounds squirrels make all through out the day as much as I am scared of the sounds which bats make at midnights. I like kites sitting high on some antenna. They look so majestic even from such distance. Those creatures! I love walking down the unknown streets staring at the pretty houses. I wish there were more cafés around which gave a comfortable feel of solitude, where you could cozy up in a sufficiently lit place for reading Leonard Cohen's poetry, order a cup a coffee and have a lovely sandwich. I love being just so slow with nothing significant running through my mind. There are streets I haven't yet walked. I feel like stepping out and exploring in every direction. I so love making mental notes of what is where. I love to guide people. I love to interact with kids playing on streets or just wave them with a smile. Sometimes while walking I just stop and stare for long at something which I haven't seen before. There's a lot to observe and take in. But surprisingly I don't do anything consciously. The walks and the observations are so luxuriously spaced with nothingness. I do not think actively. I call it 'the switched off mode', when I am so empty and that emptiness is comforting. I do not really know how I enter this mode. My generally troubled mind gets an off on such days. The world moves before my eyes. But I step aside to observe as if I have eternity to do that. Well the switched off state is eternity!

And oh! I love the rides too, in the car, or on the bike as a pillion rider. Back in university, I always had a strange feeling about the stillness of the nights there. I always said, a place should change face. It should not be so static. No wonder I love the motion of the place when I am in the car or on the bike. I always feel that it should last a longer. The cool air hitting on my skin and that feeling of temporary perpetual-ness! Haaaahhh! I love that! Much lovelier are my bike rides, when I just decide to go out with no specific destination in my mind. That perpetual motion is what I crave for! :'( That blankness, those trouble free experiences I miss. I never think so lightly about anything. The processor is off and I am just taking in through all my senses and letting those those inputs disappear in the maze of my mind. 

At such times, I don't feel vulnerable. I am not afraid that the dog will bite me or someone might think I am crazy to stop in the middle and stare above in the sky. I do not care if the other gender is noticing me. I am not protective of my belongings. I walk super leisurely at the crossings looking at the vehicles, with a strange awareness -- they know I am at peace.

Peaceful and detached. 

May be tomorrow I'll dance,
to the tunes which never played.
But today I need to wait. Patiently.

For once, I need to start loving myself
DO what I feel
And believe in the powers of healing
For once. At once.

When you move to a new place

You fall for the beauty.
You fall for the ideal.
Then you decide to journey on,
to the unknowns,
leaving everything behind,
except a stone in your heart.