Saturday, June 23, 2007


And it beigns...the period of self loathing.

When all else feels like a dismal dream
the mind refuses to acknowledge
the pen's wielded, but the ink has flown out

and I've lost my music too. There no home.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Warped & Twisted - VI

I picked up my 1100, browsed my contacts, yearning for a cup of coffee...and then I kept browsing. ...
Looking for my window of hope.
Felt loneliness in this big, friendly town.
Have a feeling its a first of many more to come

I hope it pours soon

Monday, June 18, 2007

Just a thought...

There is nothing more tragic than the forced chains, we bind ourselves into. Our - the community's version of contorted realities....
Will there be no living????

Friday, June 15, 2007

Death in a bowl of sugar - II

She comes again. Only this time it’s a distilled image of a dear friend inched in torment and anguish. It’s a word called pain, the oh so familiar deviant friend that visits us often - the one that lurks behind shut doors, slings onto our backs along clustrophobic corridors, is a constant gardener who mans our seeds of growth. And she comes dressed in finesse whispering th chants of decay and pulling soul hearts all along.

She visited again today at 15.30 and took away someone.

Will we walk again tomorrow - like we day each day closer to the valley of death!!!!

Monday, June 11, 2007

Train of thought

It's been long... since the last and the first.
The last scribble and the first workplace.

Finally have it. My contract letter came in today. I'm now bound. No more freewheelin', no more trips on the wings of fancy to the ends of the World. A legitimate employee of some firm, with some designation and a credited journalist. Press(ed) for all things that were and will follow now on. So what should I write first. About the move? The first day at work? The first byline (again!) The first trainspotting ride (again!) The first gaylord orgy (a definite first view).

This'll read more like a journal, a record of everyday affair. Of course random ramblings including (can't separate the S or the Z from that. The cult of nothingness, a wisdom passed on from a fellow blogger who weaves great tales in dreams :-p)

So the wisdom of dreams culminates into reality and I find myself on a bustling lifeline trasport of Mumbai (the city where I now work in) - the train. The whole of last week, I travelled from M to C and got off the station to walk down to L, where my office resides. The walk takes me a good 30 minutes. The return was in the caring confines of my Uncles Opel Swing for Mum was still around. She left yesterday and today I attempted to take the train thing back home too, a first. The problem with the firsts in Mumbai is that though you may have done the routine many times before, it feels new each time you do it again - for new landmarks formulate as quick as they dissolve. Great transitions, no wonder the film industry resides here. Anyway, the train back home. The routine 30 minute walk after a cancelled coffee plan in the midst of humid sweat breaks, smells of fowl foal that will be someone's meal soon and the maddening traffic...all to the station where I shall finally board my ride home. The only thing separating me from the tarmac is the platform ticket. But where is the darned ticket counter? Where is it? Where is it? Out east? West? No? 'Oh no! It's on the North side Maam. Can't cross the platform. They'll catch you,' a stranger guides. 'And where is the Northern side,' a trying look. 'Near L, on the birdge of course,' guide points. Geography comes back to my head. Northern end of the platform is on the bridge that runs out onto the street adjacent to my workplace. And I walked each day last week to work in pearls of sweat, triumphant in spirit, when in fact it is just a 2 minute sprint across office. 'Brilliant!' I thought to myself. And I smiled, turned back and walked back to work, laughing and smiling all the way to the north end of the station, got myself the Rs4 ticket that would take me home. Got on with the rush hour wave and got off with the same wave
Reached home to David Gray, Garbage and Bridget Jones. And now sinful temptations of course. How I missed thee!!!