Saturday, July 28, 2007


Two tear drops escaped and fell.
The salty liquid disappeared on a cold facade.
She was to live while her soul lay under the gray stone.

Monday, July 23, 2007


City. It lights up the way mine does. The sounds are familiar and put me at ease. Am home and yet it is not an inch closer to my idea of belonging- I don’t belong to it and it doesn’t belong to me. She used to say that I will never find my place under the sun since it’s a sin to harbour affection for the cemented mob that surrounded me. But I did. And she laughed. The open throated cackle that puts me at ease.

People. Their eyes speak the way mine do and yet they look away. Their laughter reminds me of the warmth that used to spread in my body after umpteen high-fives and cups of coffee. She used to shake her head and remind me of futility of such indulgences. But I was high on the constant consumption of familiarity and similarity. She smirked and let me go with not even an after-taste.

Closure. I got none. She let go of my hand before I could latch on to my latest muse. I could not even bid her a pompous farewell. I wanted to but I didn’t. She used to say that I should leave in silence so that the journey back would be verbose with my experiences. But I left after declarations of my permanent alliance. She sighed and shook her head at my defiance.

Beginnings. Again. This is definitely one. Its grandiose is yet to wear off. The solution to this new maze is yet to be worked out. It has just started to accept my presence and work its way round my existence.

She refuses to say anything now because of absence of acknowledgment, which is of course, because I do not live as a part of her. I left my home, my city in search of a new haven. I intend to absolve myself of her magical hold on me. Maybe I will maybe I won't.



Thursday, July 19, 2007

"From my body I could show you a place god knows"

I walked in conscious of the love handles threatening to pop out from my wannabe Fergie black vest. Like every other Friday, it was another night set in its promiscuous character and seductive tunes. I never understood how and when this routine becomes a necessity of your otherwise rebellious life, spent criticising elitist pricks and wasteful indulgence. There were lectures meted out to shocked and bored friends or boyfriends, about the futility of it all and the escape being a trap behind glass walls erected below fake twinkling stars embellished on a dark ceiling. Till I finally knew why my addiction was rooted and where it emanated from.

The rhythm taking over my body, supplanting my senses with helplessness. The flickering sending bursts of energy to watery eyes, devoid of emotions. Certain hydrocarbons overpowering my neurons and surrendering me in the arms of unknown lovers, forgotten and forgiven in a moment of passion. Violence of manufactured talents screaming through the dark corners, trapping my movements in a natural pattern. Eccentric fellows entertaining with their misogynist rant seeped in hypocrisy, making me one all along. Thank you very much. Time to evaporate the vapours of lust and sleep in a backseat with the buzzing of a distant stream.

Sunday, July 15, 2007


Well, reading Hamlet online with a Simplified English Interpretation tailing each word, so that I may understand the real meaning of my favourite tragedy. So don't expect anything here.

I thought the absence of semi-genius ideas and pieces of notions which need to be documented and preserved on this blog for my future reference was nothing serious, but now it alarms me more than the ant family living on my bed, who will soon be evicted as the symbiotic relationship has transformed into a parasitic one and the rule remains -- no ants in my pants.

The only possible explanation is my own simplified interpretation of Hamlet's existential dilemma. My personal extinction won't be the answer to my fear of existence in this limitless and worthless reality. It won't be the annihilation of what I disapprove, but annihilation of the self with no significance.

The Simplified English Interpretation is that I can't accept the fact that PP has left town.
I know she will be back in 11 months, but unless I get myself pregnant and spend the next 11 months worrying about that (yea yea I am a hippopotamus... I will take 11 months if I want), I have no idea how to deal with this. Well, everybody is familiar with Anki's inability to deal rationally with distressing situations, but it only stems from the fact that she cannot allow herself to shed even a single tear over her loss. When Shelly left, this idea was internalised perfectly, but I still had PP to see me through. It is impossible to express why the situation is bad. Boyfriend, other friends, pets, parties, alcohol, driving in the rain, sleeping endlessley, movies, work or blogging cannot replace PP. I know she will find humor in this silly emotional outburst over a webpage, but it sucks.



I didn't go to the airport despite promises of enacting a dramatic sequence of me screaming her name through the thick glass partitions, and security officials physically restraining me from running inside the terminal. Finally, one soft-hearted official would pronounce, "yeh pyaar ka mamla hai", and I would rush to the airstrip, lost amongst the Indigos and Spices, while her plane takes off and I am reduced to a lonely figure, the tarmac drenched in my tears.

I didn't even meet her once since the day she told me she'll be leaving in 4 weeks. I didn't give her the customary farewell. I couldn't do the booze n hip-hop ritual, with me crying over her leaving all night through. The last farewell was actually mine and ironically I didn't even leave town. But, the experience taught me never to venture into farewell-land. It's a painful ride. So maybe, a welcome back party would be more fun and suited to my weak heart's beating.

We came together not because of an unexplained force that meant to foster a miraculous bond between us, but simply because we both took 'chartered buses' from two extremes of this city to find ourselves standing before the gates of enlightenment (read college) when the gatekeeper and cats were still stirring in their beds. So evetually, despite her plastic accessories, I warmed up to this moron over cups of cardmmom tea that she bought for me. And the minute we dicovered our love for Adam Levine, much before Billboard discovered him, our fate had been sealed. We made the gruelling years at this 'fuckin' journo course' a party to remember. It was an amazing trip. Boys, lack of sex, consequences of sex, J Lo steps, Jay Sean's hormones, frankie, UCB, ideology, career, fuck mans, doughnuts, pink bras, lovers, Raffle's vodka. I won't forget.

Of course Levine induced orgasms would be interrupted by debates about 'the other', 'the mother', 'the Dolce',
'the Chomsky', 'the gabbana', 'the Kissinger' and 'the revolution', but we decided we will save the world at a later date.

Maybe we will.
We taught ourselves well.
We are going our own ways.
But we won't stop loving.

Monday, July 02, 2007


She forgot to write the rest of the script.
Maybe she will see his naked back and a cloud of smoke before he leaves.
Maybe she will kiss his forehead and watch the red bruises turn purple.

She shifts uncomfortably on the metallic seat of the tram. The Lycra camisole is good at ignoring friction. She keeps slipping a few millimeters every minute. There are only two things she can do, stare at the grey and yellow buildings whiz by behind the window across her or stare at the greasy metallic floor. He won’t be arriving for another hour. She wasn’t sure if he will come at all? She pulls at her skirt riding up the thighs. She holds the black briefcase with her notebook inside, close to her knees to cover a scar.

A few people dotted the Victory Square. The overcast sky could be blamed for such a poor turn-out on a Saturday. She walked down to her favourite café and took a seat outside. She would wait for the rain. The coffee was thick and tasted like burnt hair. The croissant was delicious but they refused to serve her ketchup with it. She gave up as the waiter was in no mood to decipher the sign-language and her disparate English words. The change in her bag was not enough to pay for the food and she hoped he comes soon.

She had arrived the previous night and was surprised to not find him home. She had called repeatedly and he had not picked up. He never took calls during rehearsals. She had woken up in the morning to find a text message asking her to meet him at the café at noon. The bed-sheet was crumpled and the pillow looked like it had been slept on. She found her breakfast laid out on the kitchen counter. The glass of juice was still cold.

this moment she's been waiting for… the angel opens her eyes… pale blue colored iris

He had made everything perfect, like he alway did. Her stomach felt heavy and strange. Her throat seemed to be clogged and she couldn’t swallow her own spit. She sat down and ate the sandwiches. As the refrain approached, she could feel the tears swell. She couldn’t hear another word. She ran towards the blinking lights and pressed the power button. Her sobbing filled the silent room. She couldn’t hear her fist punching against the floor. Her footsteps were lost on the new carpet.

She took a shower hoping the water running down her body will take the tears away from her. Down the drain pipes, along the underground tunnels of ancient sewers, into the Bega, reaching the Danube and pouring into the Black Sea. The clouds will be carried back by the winds. His hair will catch the wind and he will run for shelter with the first raindrop touching his nose. He will open the tap and fill a glass of water. Pure, transparent, filled with her tears. She slouched down watching the water form tiny whirlpools before disappearing through the holes in the metallic plate leading to the drain pipes. Even though her body was shaking uncontrollably, she could feel her back go numb against the cold tiles.

She looks up, distracted by some kids screaming as they rode by on their bicycles. She recognizes Uri walking towards the café at a little distance. The girl with him is slim and has red extensions hiding in the curly tangles of her black hair.

“When did you come back?,” he kisses her cheek and smiles warmly. There was something distant about him. Why was Uri not happy to see her? Why had Uri's best friend not woken her up last night? Not even in the morning. All that mattered was that she was back. He knew she was coming back. Why had he not told Uri she was coming back?

Uri started talking about the weather, the sold-out shows at Gilmani and Rockster, his mother getting better with each chemo-session, and Andrei breaking his wrist. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth waiting for a mention of his name.

She runs out of patience and finally asks him.

“What has happened to him?’

“Well, I don’t know. I wanted to ask you this.”

She catches a glimpse of him. It is him. He sits next to her and holds her hand. She can see his eyes, so brutally arrogant, believing in the beauty around.

We could be. He could be......yes........ there is so much that I want him to know...and I can tell him........ If only I could steal him and watch his every move, every line of his body........the movement of his fingers and the shuffling of his feet. The way sunshine falls on his face or the snow twirling around in the air and then gently settling on the nape of his neck.....his lips curling into a devilish smile........and his eyes looking into a void called life......

A cold drop falls on her cheek. He was busy talking to Uri in a language she could not understand. She realises it was not the moment she was waiting for.

We will meet on a strange street in a strange land on a strange moonless night. And I will kiss him. Run my finger-tips over his tears. Feel the pale white skin and smell the cigarette smoke as it engulfs the air around him. Once again, we will be.

“I will come to you and I will run around with my tongue sticking out, catching the falling snow flakes. I will watch every single breath of yours and I will talk to you. I will tell u everything.” she said and gets up to leave

He sips his coffee and watches her walk away. The rain is almost invisible, but the needles of water are stinging his eyes. Uri runs after her, screaming at her to come back. He looks away. Her skirt turns black as it slowly gets drenched. He will wait for the winters.

Sunday, July 01, 2007


I want to swim. Swim out into the deep blue. Drenched in a pale liquid, my eyes and everything disappears. My feelings come back. I swim so far away. I can't feel time. I can't come back. I swim against the crashing of the moment.

I want to cry. Like I cried years ago. It was real. Everything inside me comes out spreading around the dark floor. I cried and it broke your soul. Black stripes running along the white marble changed their course. I stared. Saw you melt away in a kitschy whirlpool of colours turning grey.

I want to laugh. Loud as the centre of my heart. We used to. Throats tickling. Eyes wide open with disbelief. Laughter was always unusual. Never explained and uninvited. Surprised me and never belonged to anyone. It is rolling back again. Asking me to smile.

I want to scream. From the force of another life, at another life of me. Shy but running through the white corridors, screaming till my lungs can feel it again. They can feel.

When I can feel again.