tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9197973155792101602024-02-21T03:24:18.737+05:30Reflections of a pisceanWhat the ears see,
The eyes speak,
The tongue reveals,
The skin absorbs,
The nose sighs,
The mind minds.To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-42849142236405554092013-01-22T01:41:00.001+05:302013-01-22T01:48:48.976+05:30Schematic of a depression <p>The fire near my left toe has been waxing and waning very  rapidly in the last hour. Pain came in repetatitve pulses, screaming attention in one moment, then spreading softly in another.</p>
<p>Lumbar disc prolapse, it has been said, when a nerve lets its anger known when two vertebrae keeps crunching it mildly, and then apologising, and repeating in the next. I got one, and then there was one more. 16 more days, or 384 hours, or atleast 230400 more of these. And each one knocks me out from deep sleep. Ouch.. 230399. Hm.</p>
<p>I have to get out of Raigarh, now. This being away, from truth, pain and meaningful connections is costing me dearly. The mask, I have to bid adieu. Sooner is better.</p>
<p>Why does it feel bad? It wasnt supposed to, in any way. Was it (in)security? Was it vested hope? I dont know myself, all over again.</p>
<p>And during this tide of doubts, my shores are lonesome, like me.</p>
<p>I feel so, INCOMPLETE.</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-29047679188257301062012-12-27T02:41:00.001+05:302012-12-27T02:42:25.189+05:30Some movies...<p>Whenever I watch Moulin Rouge and Finding Neverland, I cant help the tears. Its like emotions swell within me untill I can contain a tsunami of it any longer. And then, she goes.</p>
<p>There are things I so wanted to share, badly. The pure beauty of such movies score high amongst my list. Oh I forgot to throw Wall E, E.T., and Up in that list. But thing is, whenever I watch them, I feel very lonely at the sharing insufficiency. But then again,</p>
<p>"The greatest thing one can ever learn is to love and be loved in return."</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-34919124736516324842012-12-22T01:08:00.001+05:302012-12-22T01:08:00.580+05:30So there is a tomorrow after all..<p>Well, even for an over-imaginative me, this end of the world cry was futile and hokum. Glad that I didnt give into silly emotions and make any stupid calls here and there.</p>
<p>Then again, what if I made those calls?</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-37959054366992234772012-12-20T02:47:00.001+05:302012-12-20T02:47:48.731+05:30Freedom<p>What is freedom, really? No, I mean really! Is it a right, or is it a state of mind? Why does its definition change the deeper we sink into our thoughts? </p>
<p>Anthony Hopkins in INSTINCT makes you think this over and over again. Rightly so, till you have stripped down facts, figures and illusions... And you have either opened up your mind, or left halfway, increasingly scared while realizing that you comfort zone is an illusion you choose to live in. The worst part? Deep down, you realise everything we have been doing, is wrong from within.</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-3043039578829788632012-12-14T22:38:00.001+05:302012-12-14T22:38:26.212+05:30Bad day<p>Traditional bad day. Job screwed up on its own, things that could go wrong, went haywire... And stinging memories flooding with disturbing anger. Oh, and other RB issues.</p>
<p>Naah... Still have to make dinner, wash clothes and clean up the room. Its 10.30 pm now... Didnt notice when I had crossed over to Bad Night.</p>
<p>*RB - Retard of a Boss.</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-84644393616743257492012-12-13T01:58:00.001+05:302012-12-13T01:58:45.741+05:3012-12-2012<p>It now seems 12-12-2012 was about our loss of the Pandit. A loss to musiv, the country and the world.<br>
Pronaam.</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-37380270471146938882012-12-12T01:32:00.001+05:302012-12-12T01:32:17.094+05:30Meaninglessness in a hollow life<p>Kahlil Gibran once wrote, 'the greater that sorrow carves into your being, the greater joy you can contain.'<br>
Well he didnt mention what happens if sorrow carves and carves till it reaches the other end, leaving a hollow cylinder. Where even the greatest joy can only pass and not be held. If anyone has a clue or suggestion, my audience is on.</p>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-26209347963103981672012-12-10T23:57:00.001+05:302013-01-02T23:05:46.428+05:30It wont BE soon before long<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Its been a year and half, and a little bit more, since it closed. That warm feeling, which made all emotions sink like ink on blot paper... I can call it mine no more.<br />
And since then, LIFE hasnt been any smooth either. Its no surprise, given there's not an hour that dare pass when I dont think of her. Things feel like yesterday, and then a moment later its a scribble on a forgotten papyrus. Silly me, but true.<br />
I had tried some funny ideas trying to work my way around this hurdle life brought me. Or I brought upon myself, says the new me. But no amount of being busy came to assist. Neither did the trying to forget routine. Nor any other syntax.<br />
All it takes is one call on her part... Or even anyone asking, if things got better between us. They see hope where I know none exists. Silly them, this time.<br />
I need a way out. It.must come fast enough, because after reading my own diaries from the last few years, I realised this is ME all over the place, a person I would have been ashamed to know I would become one day, if I had known then.<br />
So dear blog, here I am, venting, hyperventilating... And in no less dire need OF a ventilator apparatus, which in this case, is an unfortunate you. I agree, I have to accept and move on, and dear blog, lets hope it works out for both of us. I want back some OF that old ME... The one that laughed so loud that someone's deaf grandpa would wake up and ask who's there... The one that would strumm the guitar once again to Ave Maria, Greensleeves, or Lovestory, and ek je chhilo raaja... The one to spin a poem to calm any emotional upheaval... And one that tried to hold on to the sweeter and curious bits of life through 3rd person humour and photography. Oh that, I miss so badly.</div>
To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-41100130870687555172010-06-17T22:59:00.001+05:302011-05-17T19:58:13.924+05:30<div>I dont know much about what is going on with my present life, to the extent that I must say, 'Enough, this void in me making the surface cringe with </div>To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-919797315579210160.post-47613233300734453032009-02-07T20:10:00.002+05:302011-05-17T20:41:37.369+05:30Fever and tears<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">A class is on the move.<br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Familiar symbols cast their long shadows on the white screen,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">They come and go</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">As he speaks on, making various gestures,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The listeners paint images on their own;</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">But this is not all.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The voices are just apologies to the tympanum,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Like the cries of a thousand hungry beggars</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Outside His Majesty's palatial gates.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">But the King listens only to a symphony,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Played in his heart from memory,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">A child prodigy played the castle's damp walls</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">into liveliness the night before,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The echoes have wound, or have they?</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Handel. And the Escapist.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Soon,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My mind drifts away,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My clock unwinds,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My feet retrace,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">And I am at the edge</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Of a familiar white bed.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">And I miss you again, </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Intensely,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Like Love Long Lost.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">I feel my feet against the cold floor,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The splash of a thousand golden drops</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Against the ever unstill surface,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">They come of the fountain </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">And plunge into the water </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Over and over again,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">For pleasure unknown.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Me too,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">For love's labours </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Are neither measurable nor expressible.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">I touch your soft skin again,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My lips caress the strawberry,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My stomach sinks</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">When your chocolate nails sank deeper,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">I wonder if I could taste them.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">My hand is disobedient,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Climbing down your back</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Strides on the waves.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Vice surges.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Loves potion instills further.</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The sweet poison is prepared,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">And it is hot,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">With steam dancing erotically all over the brew,</div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Lovemaking awaits.</div>To reality and backhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10618472272132745081noreply@blogger.com0