Aria

"It was during that sorrow that
love came to me!
A voice filled with harmony
That said...
Lie still, I am Life!"

"I am the god that descends
From the heavens to the earth
To make of the earth
A heaven!"

"I am Oblivion!
I am Glory!
I am Love, Love, Love!"

untitled

No, nothing at all, I regret nothing at all
Not the good, nor the bad. It is all the same.
No, nothing at all, I have no regrets about anything.
It is paid, wiped away, forgotten.
I am not concerned with the past, with my memories.
I set fire to my pains and pleasures,
I don’t need them anymore.
I have wiped away my loves, and my troubles.
Swept them all away.
I am starting again from zero.

No, nothing at all, I have no regrets
Because from today, my life, my happiness, everything,
Starts with you!

You.

I make the stupidest remarks in your presence

me. who is like a ribboned rock.

carefully planned so as not to be late.

me. who is out of synchronisation

like forgotten people of the jungles.

I write in grand fury those complete letters

so you would read and smile to yourself

all your tears I wish I were.
so beside you I shall flow, down your cheek, and

know your woes,

I would roll, watchfully, make no eye contact lest you see me there

watching

and caress you as I go

even inadvertently

helplessly enchanted by wit by folly by elements put

to make that love I have for you.

untitled.

at night
i sat by and watched you sleep
dreaming of dreams making you smile
and when you got up and told
me you were dreaming of
me kissing you
you were beautiful.

Keep Breathing

The storm is coming but i don't mind.
People are dying, i close my blinds.
All that i know is i'm breathing now.
I want to change the world...instead i sleep.
I want to believe in more than you and me.
But all that i know is i'm breathing.
All i can do is keep breathing.
All we can do is keep breathing now.
All that i know is i'm breathing.
All i can do is keep breathing.
All we can do is keep breathing now.
All we can do is keep breathing

A. For you.

I don't know anyone who isn't haunted by something...or someone. And whether we try to slice the pain away with a scalpel or shove it in the back of a closet, our efforts usually fail.

So the only way we can clear out the cobwebs is to turn a new page...
Or put an old story to rest...
Finally. Finally to rest.

Ashes to Ashes. Dust to dust.

Bombay

A week in the city that never sleeps. Long late night walks by the sea. I still have sand in my shoes. Squashed between cars on the road from suburbs to town. Glamour and celebrities who are no longer just celebrities but almost friends. A book. And a book deal. Cafe Mondegar. Leopold. Ferry on the muddy brown sea. Heritage buildings and decaying facades. Kalaghoda. Jazzy taxis. Poison. Juhu. Mocha. Alcohol. Sex. Cosmopolitan. Sweet breeze. Siddhivinayak. Filmcity. Groovy music. Freaky people. Matted long tresses. Anorexic women. Haute couture. Jimmy Choo. Versace. Big office. White walls. Black hearts. Jealousy. Cold vibes. Ego's colder than ice.

Am tired.

As I stepped off the plane with my bag in my hand, the first gust of cold wind on my face made me realise that I didn't like the city of dreams. I was just so happy to be home. To be in my own bed. To just be here. Yes I know if I go back, I could be 'someone', but for now I think I can wait a little. I think I can just be myself and wait for it to come to me in its own due time.

What will be. Will be. Afterall.

...

"The truth is, I probably don't want to be too happy or content, 'cause then what? I actually like the quest, the search. That's the fun. The more lost you are, the more you have to look forward to. What do you know? I'm having a great time and I don't even know it."

Mistakes

In life, only one thing is certain...apart from death and taxes...no matter how hard you try, no matter how good your intentions, you are going to make mistakes. You're going to hurt people. You're going to get hurt.

Truth and nothing but the truth.

Writers give back so many things. We give fantasy, we give advice. And most of the time, we give our undivided attention. But by far the hardest thing we can possibly give someone is the hard truth. The truth is hard. The truth is .... akward. And very often truth...hurts. I mean people sat that they want the truth. But do they really?

The truth is painful... Deep down nobody wants to hear it, especially when it hits home. But sometimes we give the truth, because the truth is all we have to give. And sometimes we tell the truth, because we need to hear it out loud just for ourselves. And then are times when we need to tell the truth because we just cant help ourselves.

And then there are times when we must tell the truth, because we owe everyone atleast that much.

Untitled

"Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?"

I hope you know what you are doing

"I love it!" he said. "I just love it!"
And then we kissed our first kiss soon after that. He tasted of salted sunflower seeds (his secret weakness, as we would learn later). His tongue was thin and pointy and intelligent. I didn't remember leading him to the bedroom, only that we were there already, lying on the crumpled blue bedcover, his fingers, my fingers, the small hollow inside his elbow and the vein pulsing in it. I thought I could see a faint radiation of heat where our skins touched. Did his hair smell of lemons? In my hurry I tore a loose button off his shirt. (Later we would laugh about that.) The back of his ear-stud rasped my hand, raising a weal. He brought it to his mouth and licked it. The small mirrors embroidered into the bedcover pressed their cool disks against his bare back, then against mine. His nipples were brown and hard as apple seeds in my mouth.

Then his hands were on mine, tight, stopping me as I tugged on his zipper.

"Don't. It isn't safe. I didn't expect this. I don't have anything with me. And I take it you don't either…."

The blood rocked so hard in the hollows of my body, I feared I'd break open. He had to repeat himself before I could understand the words. I shook my head vaguely, not caring. I wouldn't let go. My body, thwarted so long, had seized on wildness like a birthright. A part of me cried, You're insane. I pushed my face against him, his chest hairs wiry against my tongue, until finally his hands were gone. I could feel fingers, their drowning grip on my hair. I heard him say something. The words were too close, out of focus.

Later I would think we had started with God. As in God I hope you know what you're doing.

Dreams

I understood.

Will it hurt? I whispered.

Will it hurt a great deal?

He lashed his tail. The air was the color of old telegraph wire.

Will it at least be quick? His scales winked yes. From somewhere smoke rolled in to cover him. Or was the smoke part of what is to come? Will it happen soon?

A small irritation in the glint from his eyes. In the world he inhabited, soon had little meaning. Once again I'd asked the wrong question. He began to undulate away.

His tongue was a thin pink whip. I had the absurd desire to touch it. Wait! How can I prepare? He swiveled the flat oval of his head toward me. I put out my hand. His tongue--why, it wasn't whiplike at all but soft and sorrowful, as though made from old silk.

I think he said, There is no preparation other than understanding. What must I understand?

Death ends things, but it can be a beginning, too.

A chance to gain back what you'd botched.
Can you even remember what that was? I tried to think backward.
It was like peering through a frosted window.

He was fading. A thought flowed over my skin like a breath.

But only if you seize the moment.

Only if-- Then he was gone.

Last night the snake came in my dreams again.

All my life I could do anything. I could do anything, really. Except the one thing I wanted.

Untitled

Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street. Did it matter that she must inevitably cease, completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? It is possible to die. It is possible to die.

White Nights

"But that I should feel any resentment against you, that I should cast a dark shadow over your bright, serene happiness!...That I should crush a single one of those delicate blooms which you will wear in your dark hair when you walk with him! Oh no- never, never! May your sky be always clear, may your dear smile be always bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart...Good Lord, only a moment of bliss? Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of a man's life?"

Untitled

'I love you so, because you haven't fallen in love with me.'

Change

Change. we don't like it, we fear it. But we can't stop it from coming. We either adapt to change, or we get left behind. It hurts to grow. Anybody who tells you it doesn't is lying. But here's the truth. sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same. And sometimes...oh sometimes change is good.

Sometimes...change is everything.

Message from a Zen master.

You are missing the rea life. Use more energy. Then fresh energies will flow. Just don't be a miser. Use them today; let today be complete unto itself, tomorrow will take care of itself, don't be worried about tomorrow. The worry, the anxiety, the problem, all simply show one thing: that you are not living right, that your life is not yet a celebration, a dance, a festivity. Hence, all the problems in your life.