'Maybe she wanted to be alone...
Or maybe she didn’t like me anymore...
I never would want to give it a thought..'
Dear You,
Let us forget and forgive...
Others & ourselves respectively...
Love Me
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Catching colors…
Bits of papers and some dark colors on it. Torn! Colors and papers! It was difficult to look for that piece. Every day is a start like this. A new start for an old search. A search for torn pieces of an unknown destiny. Ha! Not just pieces but that piece. Luck may help if I grab few. Right?
And who knows about the colors? Do you? Everything starts so beautiful. Like a new beginning. Like a day! Any day! Even today! But we all know new beginnings have old endings. Like what I told you before. Remember?
And so I stood watching the bits of my paper flying with the wind that was never there. There where I was. Like a dream! Like I am always! Like what I wish to be! Like all what no one could see. In my world there is only that. See there! Can you?
Even the colors where not colors if you could see. Black was red and white was blue for me. A strange grouping of anger & lust. Good on their own. But not together.
It was better to let go I thought then. Let the colors remain only in the same dream where I left it once, wishing never to see it again. But I did. And I know I will.
Like always…
And who knows about the colors? Do you? Everything starts so beautiful. Like a new beginning. Like a day! Any day! Even today! But we all know new beginnings have old endings. Like what I told you before. Remember?
And so I stood watching the bits of my paper flying with the wind that was never there. There where I was. Like a dream! Like I am always! Like what I wish to be! Like all what no one could see. In my world there is only that. See there! Can you?
Even the colors where not colors if you could see. Black was red and white was blue for me. A strange grouping of anger & lust. Good on their own. But not together.
It was better to let go I thought then. Let the colors remain only in the same dream where I left it once, wishing never to see it again. But I did. And I know I will.
Like always…
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Through those windows....
it still rains…
The monsoon has been here for long. Too long precisely. When it is raining and cold the minutes are short. Too short precisely.
The table beside my favorite window and my books on it. The lonely cup of tea and some thoughts in their usual disorder. It always makes me feel uneasy. The thoughts in disorder I mean. I moved from one window to the other. The rusted iron bars of the old window left the smell of yesterday on my palms. Those summer vacations of early 90’s, when my world was small and my hair was not long. There are stories but let that be.
What was I looking for indeed? Each window had a different view. And different thoughts. Tiny wild yellow flowers that I saw, I wonder, did they ever have a name? Touch-me-nots, I wonder, did they ever know how good it feels to be touched?
I felt the humid air inside my room. It made my skin moist and my cotton clothe damp. I wanted to free myself. From a lot of things. But forget! For then it was getting worse. Unbroken minutes of breathing one’s own breath over and over again in a closed room of memories. Windows were many. But ........ The very moment I only wished to run into the rainy open sky. Breathe the wet soil & feel the raindrops on my face.
Finally I opened the door and walked out.
There was no rain, no wild yellow flowers, and no touch-me-nots. Why was it there through the windows and not there then? Why did it all look so beautiful through the windows? Why did it pull me out from where I was?
Maybe this was what I was searching for. Vague beauties of my imaginations that never could survive in reality. And will never.
The monsoon yellow flowers that withered away….nameless…forever…
The monsoon has been here for long. Too long precisely. When it is raining and cold the minutes are short. Too short precisely.
The table beside my favorite window and my books on it. The lonely cup of tea and some thoughts in their usual disorder. It always makes me feel uneasy. The thoughts in disorder I mean. I moved from one window to the other. The rusted iron bars of the old window left the smell of yesterday on my palms. Those summer vacations of early 90’s, when my world was small and my hair was not long. There are stories but let that be.
What was I looking for indeed? Each window had a different view. And different thoughts. Tiny wild yellow flowers that I saw, I wonder, did they ever have a name? Touch-me-nots, I wonder, did they ever know how good it feels to be touched?
I felt the humid air inside my room. It made my skin moist and my cotton clothe damp. I wanted to free myself. From a lot of things. But forget! For then it was getting worse. Unbroken minutes of breathing one’s own breath over and over again in a closed room of memories. Windows were many. But ........ The very moment I only wished to run into the rainy open sky. Breathe the wet soil & feel the raindrops on my face.
Finally I opened the door and walked out.
There was no rain, no wild yellow flowers, and no touch-me-nots. Why was it there through the windows and not there then? Why did it all look so beautiful through the windows? Why did it pull me out from where I was?
Maybe this was what I was searching for. Vague beauties of my imaginations that never could survive in reality. And will never.
The monsoon yellow flowers that withered away….nameless…forever…
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Chocolaty days & the then emerald desire
It’s been a year since I have started blogging….
It’s been years since all that happened….
I sat in solitude thinking of that garden. It had a few bamboo chairs which often spoke our secrets to other people, surrounded by wooden fences painted white. Peaches & passion fruits hung everywhere in sight. A wonderful garden which once witnessed our love.
She had beautiful earrings that day, the first that came to my mind when I thought. Emerald drops. Lovely green. Foggy morning. Wet grass carpet. Chirping birds. Two cups of black tea. And the sweet-smelling flowers printed on her frock.
All in a go, in the same order flashed under my closed eyelids.
Lying on our back, we tried to look at the sky. It was indeed a difficult try. The tall trees of Ooty were really tall. And thick. The branches would just not let the sky see us. See her green drops maybe….I didn’t want either!
Did I tell you that she used to make delicious chocolate mousses those days? She still makes it I believe or rather like to, but these days are not those days. Rich, yummy, dark, bitter-sweet mousses. I loved it and she loved making it for me. Time would just flee faster at moments like these…when we smile at each other in understanding of very own silly thoughts.
Happy stomach and happy all at the end we would sleep cuddling.
Like an evergreen dream I thought of it all..
Of those chilly nights that still smelt of roasted cocoa beans in memories.
It’s been years since all that happened….
I sat in solitude thinking of that garden. It had a few bamboo chairs which often spoke our secrets to other people, surrounded by wooden fences painted white. Peaches & passion fruits hung everywhere in sight. A wonderful garden which once witnessed our love.
She had beautiful earrings that day, the first that came to my mind when I thought. Emerald drops. Lovely green. Foggy morning. Wet grass carpet. Chirping birds. Two cups of black tea. And the sweet-smelling flowers printed on her frock.
All in a go, in the same order flashed under my closed eyelids.
Lying on our back, we tried to look at the sky. It was indeed a difficult try. The tall trees of Ooty were really tall. And thick. The branches would just not let the sky see us. See her green drops maybe….I didn’t want either!
Did I tell you that she used to make delicious chocolate mousses those days? She still makes it I believe or rather like to, but these days are not those days. Rich, yummy, dark, bitter-sweet mousses. I loved it and she loved making it for me. Time would just flee faster at moments like these…when we smile at each other in understanding of very own silly thoughts.
Happy stomach and happy all at the end we would sleep cuddling.
Like an evergreen dream I thought of it all..
Of those chilly nights that still smelt of roasted cocoa beans in memories.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Californian colitas and….
........country guitars.
How they dance in the courtyard;
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget.
One who has heard it knows how sweet the summer sweat is. Summer sweat! Sweet only in the courtyard. Only when you dance. And only if you dance to forget. Dance to remember and you know the summer is not summer, the sweat is not sweet.
How tempting it is. Isn’t it? The devil’s path. It’s just so tempting like the dancing beauties in courtyard. Pink champagne and ceilings made of mirrors and all that. All, all that.
Fresh, bright, thick, rust smelling blood on the mind. And yummy cuts on the flesh. Melting ice and sultry night. Vacant hotel rooms and cigarette smelling couches. Long canines and soft lips. Mysterious eyes and wet hair. A lot of them. Prayers or whispers? But many!
So very tempting. All, all that. Isn’t it? I would never bother to even check-out.
Would you?
How they dance in the courtyard;
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget.
One who has heard it knows how sweet the summer sweat is. Summer sweat! Sweet only in the courtyard. Only when you dance. And only if you dance to forget. Dance to remember and you know the summer is not summer, the sweat is not sweet.
How tempting it is. Isn’t it? The devil’s path. It’s just so tempting like the dancing beauties in courtyard. Pink champagne and ceilings made of mirrors and all that. All, all that.
Fresh, bright, thick, rust smelling blood on the mind. And yummy cuts on the flesh. Melting ice and sultry night. Vacant hotel rooms and cigarette smelling couches. Long canines and soft lips. Mysterious eyes and wet hair. A lot of them. Prayers or whispers? But many!
So very tempting. All, all that. Isn’t it? I would never bother to even check-out.
Would you?
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