Posts

what do you do?

what do you do when you dont want to do anything? what do you do when you want to howl and cry? only. what do you do when you know you are in the wrong and want to carry on that way? what do you do when there are things more important that just you are waiting for you to take charge and get done? what do you do when you ask yourself innumerable times whats wrong with me and get no answer? what do you do when exhaustion doesn't bring sleep? when you involuntarily lie awake in your bed thinking about things that you have no control over? what do you do when the past returns to address you?

Three poems

Aeroplane ------------------- I listen to their sound as they fly above me in the sky that my apartment building owns Listening hard for the noise of one that will bring you over a distance of about 3000 kms It is strange how we became friends over shared journeys Some on which I brought you along And others on which you took me with you Permission was not sought, granted or denied I smile at a certain memory here and At a shared anecdote there, as I look at the lights of the aeroplane That seem to mock at me As yet another flight has taken off some 3000 kms away and landed here Closer to me But you have chosen not to take it In that you have also chosen to stay afar, at a distance That I am unable scale Unable to reason with So that it would let me be with you In that you have chosen to go back to being a stranger And as has been between us Permission was not sought, granted or denied Netra ------------- I marvel at your small little body As you run with

sacrificial lamb post

I don’t know anything other than wriing. This is what I have been doing for the longest time ever. This is what I return to when everything else disappears, leaves me alone. This is what I have been trained to do. This is all I know. This is what I always wanted to do. But I ask myself often why haven’t been doing this if it matters to me so much. I haven’t written in a year or so. Made space for everything but this. Why? Did I not have enough time to do it? Did I not have enough things to write about or did I not care enough for my own self? I think the last one is somewhat true. I hardly ever do things for my own self. Why is it that then I complain? Have I been programmed (in modern day jargon) or destined (in ancient jargon) to comply? Why is it that every thought that I ever have is about another person rather than it being about me myself? And then someone calls me as portraying as the injured, devious. Really? I wanted to tell him good now that you have seen beyond the façade wh

boom boom

scraed of the boom in my own voice. i hve become loud. i hardly speak. rather i think i am shouting all the time, even when i am holding a normal conversation. alearned man says that ths agitation is the sign of me being unhappy with my own self. i agree something is exasperating me. driving me up the wall. can't put my finger on to it. but i thought i was at peace. a misgiving may be, now that i am showing signs of fraying at the edges. missing gym might have contributed to it. but i know its not entirely this or that. it is a bit of all the this and that. but what to do? some me-time should help. but i got lot of it this gone weekend owing to the fact that Friday was a holiday and S was saat samundar paar and dear darling daadi was available to look after chun. what is it then, that would heal me? a sumptuous lunch may be?

of new years

i love those times in a year when one can freely look back, sum up things and get retrospective. birthdays are one such occasion and the other one is the year enders. like this one. this year for me has been one that brought with it the joys of seeing netra turn in to a chatter box-motor-mouth kid who actually started to behave her age and the naughtiness quotient touched new heights. it has been remarkable in terms of the new things that netra has brought home in the form of never-ever-heard-before nursery rhymes and songs. and we are thankful for them because i can cope with them better than the cockroaches and big black ants, dead and at times alive, that she would often bring like the prized catch. the year has been a good one in terms of work as well. freelanced (still to get paid but what the heck) i hv managed to loose the grumpiness somewhat. managed an outing. a break from the usual suspects. watch a few movies that i had been wanting to see for a while (x-men origins: wolveri