Just another Love Story - I

He waited under the clock in that cold, damp railway station. The ticking seemed to grow louder and louder, until the very seconds seemed to boom in his head like a hundred-gun salute. The hands slowly climbed to the appointed hour, when once more the love of his life would be in his arms. Suddenly a movement down the platform caught his eye, the next minute he was rushing towards her, not wanting to miss one second of being with her again. They met, fingers touched, lips trying to find a matching pair, searching finding and remembering.

They slowly separated, and started to move down the platform to the exit, their steps matching the rhythm of their hearts. Both knew that time was passing them by, and all too soon, they must part, both knew that every second together was theirs to be enjoyed and enveloped in their love. They gave in the train ticket not even noticing the look from the inspector, each eye filled the other’s visage, hands never wanting to leave the safety of the each other’s clasp.

He remembered the last time as they had to say goodbye. The train slowly starting to move out of the station as the life blood seemed to slowly slip from his view with the movement of the carriage further and further along the platform. The face etched in his mind becoming a blur then a faint spot in the distance. He’d stood, not wanting to move, still feeling the warmth of her kiss on his lips, and his face still wet, whether for her tears or his own.

But that was last time, this was now.

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Part - II at 10.34hrs. tomorrow

A quaint little note

Dear Readers,

Kush, Nothingman, Sam, Rajdeep, Merisa, Niraj, Anand, Anon ...
We are very happy to be with you and haviing been nurtured by you all this while ...

Today, we feel blessed on turning another year ...
Your words, your intonations, your love, your spite have left me nurtured, loved, grown and more learned ...

Please feel free to keep dropping by ...

Worded

He always asks me
Could
You
Not
Instead
Care?

***

How do I explain
People
Really
Interrogate
Concern and
Kill...

Wut haepnd?

maa phrets

herr chilren

aar veri pooar

inspell ings.

all

becoz auf

sms.

ones there woz a tee chur.

wid a redpen.

who

un-de-r the laaine

rong

spell ings.

naao there iz a maikrosoft.

worhd.

wid a redpen.

who

sum taimes

un-de-r the laaine

rite

spell ings

olso.

colour, neighbour, realise

Where is the person who tells you what is right?

Where is the person you believe?

Where is the person?

That rational human being.

That amorfuss work of art.

Post-it

Januray 2007

(The coast of Hanko. June 2006)

Today...

Rock to tumble

Crash to sustain

Water to kill

Current to flow

Foam to cover

Dive to risk

Swim to live

Tomorrow?... backwaters

Jest a moment

Plastic...stones...plaster...rock...brick

Me

In recap

It's been long... Long since I loggd on... long since I typed in any food for thought (besides the mindless badgerings that keeps the keyboard/outpour mechanism busy). So today what shall we talk about...

The year of the Nines that got Beethoven his sound waves and symphonies and me my music (wishful thinking)
Or how Marx found his theory?
Or the day Gus found Idaho, Elephant and Cobain all in one night?
What...what...should I narrate.

Or should I talk of the valley of hope of which I am a frequent visitor.. the deep gorge that makes a poet, a writer, a story-teller, a movie-maker, a lifer out of me...

Maybe I'll recap on my year...

the One with the big 8.
the One which started with travel and endend on a not-so-distant hilltop.
the One that made me face my biggest fears and embered my sweetest passions,
the One that made me an outcast and a contemporary of fashion.
Should I mention the frivolty a new city with its big glass office that January got
or the Betrayal and the whip lash that the town in February brought.
My visit to the Parliament house, the urge to be an Indian
Or the ghastly theory of relativity that 'close family' called fun
Oh what shall I mention and talk of that I learnt
that Movie Making is a splendid game that arrests me on all fronts.
the Documentary that I hated to make but did anyway
or The short movie that gave me a voice and a recognised say.
Would you want to know about the one whom I betrayed
or How by not betraying I would have myself been dismayed.
the People who walked in and out, filling me with strife
or the trips, the assignments, the stories, the shots that instilled in me LiFe.
What should I talk of that would make those lessons learnt real
that life metes out things and people, even if they were'nt part of your deal.
the New office,
the new work,
the new class,
the new state,
the new hair,
the new discoveries,
the new places,
the new men,
the new women,
the new b'E'ings,
the new investigation... I lived it all in one whole year...

Here's a toast to the year of the nines...that gave Beethoven his sound waves and symphonies.
Will it give me my music too???

Secret Santa

... and they don't know it's from me.

Spirit of the Season

This... just this...

An era of sulking of literal self confinement ends.

A glass of port, some strawberries and chocolate, this window, Frank Sinatra's christmas songs (Oh! and there's Tenacious D telling me the 12 drugs of Christmas as well, Hail Jack Black)... Papa's Birthday has brought me the sanity I have been window -shopping in cafes, restaurants and shoes shops for.. (shopping gives me comfort. Doesn't it to all girls).

I can go on jabbering on me in my space. I can write an epic on it this moment. There is this rush of profound divinity. I have so much to share. But just this once, I want to keep it to myself, nestle it in my heart, feel safe and warm in its cocooned embrace.

Yes! I'm happy and I don't want to part with it, not just yet. Not today. Today, there is no work, no phone calls, no pending assignments, no class to attend, no notebooks to fill, no smiles to show (shallow and deep, both)

But excuse my ostentatious lines just this once.....

"Life is an Aphrodisiac... Let me get high today!"

*Merry Christmas!*

Please Excuse

How predicatble am I? In these moments of fierce frustraiton...turning to the one window I am escaping...

Always loved to be well read, but today suddenly don't want to be heard, seen, viewed... A mockery of pubic imagery, psychologically challekneged, cynically enraged....I am a God-Damn f*&#ing idealist. Yet I can't even bring myself to write down the F-word... When did I become to closely conditioned. This world was never mine and certainly not for me. Why have things started to matter? Or do they matter???? Can't seem to figure out...

Always checked mail to see comments, but today I don't want any. Wanted to change the world, but today I just wanna disappear. I always thought happiness comes and shouldn't be chased. But the only times I've really smiled with glee is when I have commanded it. Aleways had words floating in space, ready to put together in sentences at any given time. But today, the need is strong...yet the words are amiss!

Can't justify. Don't want to. Don't need to...

Just don't want to BE....

The only one who did matter, is not here anymore....Happy Birthday Nana! wherever you are.....Still miss you....

ME

Psychopath...Psychopath...Psychopath
Psychopath...Psychopath...Psychopath

My Con of Chaos

Convulated! Just that . . . that one word. The chaos in my mind. . . the drum rolls in my head. The constant irking and foreplay with stimulating fantasies ... dreams ... ideas ... thoughts.

Thoughts! Just that . . . that one word. The solemn solitude I romance every now and then. My partner-in-crime, at my aid and destruction always. The consistent ticking of words ... sentences ... phrases ... an outpour of feelings.

Feelings! Just that . . . that one word. The times I've spent in quite contemplation of the things that have hurt me, touched me, raped me, seduced me. Exhausted ... I've been subect to the naked attack of word-less emotions, always at my beck and call always. Always ...

Always! Just that . . . that one word. Always the need to bigger than myself. Will I rise above? Will I stay afloat and not sink? Will I ever find out?

Whispers of Immortality

The thought has been growing for sometime now. I begin my story on a rainy, spring afternoon which quickly changes to summer, the boredom of autumn and a procrastinating winter ...

If only time was not to be chased. More time...always.

To always live like there was no tomorrow..

To nurse hopes of a profound reality.

To always live....

How selfish the con of man??? Yes....guilty on all counts

of never being one with the soil

of never wanting the sun to set

of always being embraced with

life

of always being surrounded in

hope of love

Can't we live forever....Can't those around us too live forever...

I commit sin....of never wanting to see the glory of Heaven

of wanting to always feel skin and warmth of a Humanity.

Nemesis

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek at daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies,
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear,
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek at daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

HP Lovercraft

Found this rhyme on a drowsy early morn. Think I should go back to sleep and try to live those moments that inspired such drudgery in words. My Nemesis...

Where's the party yaar?

For the past 24 hours, I've been sitting in front of this dabba looking for stuff to do...

oh and blogs were just this crappy diessertation topic till now, but now is a directoral thesis....sounds like a big deal no??

Oh and I need Flvours too....finally making that movie...got camera and boy....and nope,,, doing this all alone. lets see...time for a disappearing act soon...

But most of all I just need to party man!!!! organsie one and call me....

Warped & Twisted-IV

No inspiration. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing...

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead...

Nothing could be duller than this wobbly mass of consistent monotony and sheer boredom...

The Mirth of Jest...perhaps

Diwali day has many blessings hidden in its fold. Like a curse, maybe. But no. It would be wrong to blame
curses on such pious days. It would be wrong to think of anything unholy, defiling, dark or walk amidst dark auras. Not today of all days...

Yet today of all days, I have time to think. And when the prospect invites such idleness to spare thoughts to tears welling up for years, its difficult not to comply. So here is yet another nonsensical post. Can't call it an outpour. Random thoughts? Maybe, perhaps, yes. Unsure? completely. But to wet paper with pen I must. Scared of release, these words are taking more time this day to come. Suppressed for so long, maybe the pigeon is not sure is she wants to fly today.

Happens...happens when you push constraints of your self behind curtains put up while chasing what I think are my dreams. Class by morning, work by evening...have I forgotten myself?
Where is she? What does she look like now? Has she grown...grown wiser, more kiddish, more sane, more wired or she still the same?

Does she still dream of the Greek Coast, the rocky edged cliffs, the open green fields, the glass house,
the white space and the book in hand?
I can't peer deep enough.... Have I lost my inspiration, my muse, my Diwali!

Maybe I need to pause for a while. Take a break, remap where I'm headed, retrace my path a bit.

But will I still find my Wizard? Will I still reach Oz? What would Dorothy have done?

Did she pause to think?

Funny how the most important things in life have moved beyond this stagnant mass. Met my best friend the other day (hope she still is). Happiest moment...she's becoming a mom. Couldn't contain the feeling. Seeing her aglow with the gift of life nursing in her ripe womb and reflecting on the cheeks and the affection filled satsifaction oozing from her gaze...
"These have been the best months of my life," her tone hinted a complete feeling. She was full.

My heart skipped a beat. She's happy. He's been kind. Life's been kind. The most elated feeling in the world. I sensed her calm and shed a tear. Drank it in, didn't let her see. Profound happiness. Those two hours, listening to her jounrey this far, were the best moments of my life.

Still living it. . .

Maybe, maybe now I can stop searching for those smells in the office, all in a satiable search of a few seconds of guilty pleasures. They'll always be guilty.

All constructs of festivity

cold morning nose
breath balm on the nape
:
sunshine breakfast
on alpenglow grass

:

in a corner in a forgotten library
hidden behind world stories
:
erratica writes
fake pearls & real pretenses

:
longing for the schoolgirl blues
love poetry for distant odds
:
a subterranean script
raises its hood
:

resign and uncap the pen...

:

and then echelons of zillion lights adorn

and echoes of triumph and thunder swarm

:

sudden jerks and calls ... "Sherry, Bachhe neeche aao. Diye jalao"

shrug all slumber, romantic disposition and the ever-running thinking mind

:

between noise from the dholaki wala outside and guitar from Aseem

Oh yeah! It's just Diwali....I could be merry today!

:

Why not!

Why not?

I will leave words too and be
A gunrunner, keep a boy to thrash
When he's lazy or stupid or because
I feel like it.
Give up cigarettes, take up
Opium instead ... because, you know,
it sends us dreams.
I'm packing my things.
The sun can't be much brighter there
Than here ... but ... anyway.

We all like to feel so special.