diseased. i may
bleed to death. or
the many trees
my sight sees
will blur, my head
colliding against one.
the rush in leaving must
compete with the vitality
of the lived lengthy days,
of the seconds,
all of which were
much too short. like
the last leap before
taking the beats
away from throbbing.
throbbing warm
blood will flow from
where the words went in
and my hands will no
longer hold. and
the mind i minted
with great care
will meet a befitting
closure. Peace.


I owe this post to Ekom. Thank you:)

Easier said than done.

Someone dear asked me to blog about five things each that I like and dislike about myself. After many false starts and many months I got back to it. My attempt...

1. I fear. A lot of my time and abilities are consumed in the process of dealing with fears.

2. I rage. And I take immense effort to keep my temper under control. It’s like having to hold your head still to stop it from throbbing.

3. I miss people to a degree where my mind is paralyzed or frozen with that emotion.

4. I care. I can’t say no. It’s absurd. And it tires me.

5. I feel I’m somewhat…mildly…averse to everyone in some corner of my mind. It disturbs me.

On the other side…

1. The things mentioned above never mess with me to the extent that I’m left grappling visibly. I love my ability to compartmentalize and function. And I think it’s something that gets better the more you do it.

2. I’m committed. For people, who make me want to be there for them, I’ve unending reserves and limitless energy.

3. I love the way my mind synchronizes words, ideas and images in a matter of seconds for those rare lines. It’s hard to discern what goes on and it gives me the best of highs.

4. I care. It’s the one of the most rewarding parts of my life.

5. I laugh. And people laugh with me.

Easier said than done.

dear december

i tilt the tins of my mind

i scour the shelfs it contains

i turn out its pockets

i wish for whatever remains

oh stupidity!

when you speak
and I stir
sugar dissolves
and I seek
crystals still

a black dot
on a bright sun
renewed smiles

the Sisyphus in me has surrendered
his last breath rankling with realizations
his legacy a lone island

stretch
to give birth
stretch
to make love
stretch
to bridge the schism
stretch
to curb your rage
stretch
to reach out
stretch
to be patient
stretch
to prevent chaos
stretch
for nobody else will
stretch
all onus lies on you

for the predictable returns
and the unguarded gaze
for the endless eyebrows
for letting me in through the maze

for the cue behind the smile
and the dreams that race
for the amusing queries
and the full moon on my face

for the only rounded corner
and the bond well-browned
for the first waking moment
and the last moonlit sound

no thank you :)

Agony waters his roots
And yet, passion for fruits?

Leaves covered in dreary dust
And yet, shine, you must?

In the debris – dark and old
And yet, you found seeds of gold?

Wry nightly winds come fighting
And yet, you stand tall?

May you never stall


For a friend of mine who lends new meaning to every adjective I use for him.

with the circumference of a million thoughts
a circle with a moving centre
touching and touched by many others
but no other circle fits her

pulling the chords between hearts longer
or yanking that arc to a smile
watch the constant radius shorten
at the end of the endless mile

when the circle becomes a mangle
filling in the square of strife
what do you have on your sheets
perhaps it's the diagram of life

What I learnt on the Hyd trip…

1. The only thing that is sillier than an airhead is a tiara on an airhead.

2. A fool-proof method of ensuring your rival hotel’s bankruptcy is to take Archana to their buffet.

3. Sneha needs four hats to cover that head of hers; her hair, of course, beats the Amazon.

4. Huge junk food meals may cause *ahem* pants *ahem* to tear.

5. Ramya behaves like a baby in bed. Spring mattresses are Disney World for this twenty-two year old.

6. I rock at that game where you play act movie names.

7. We’re the only people who plan to gossip and then gossip and repeat the same bit of gossip for the bum who missed it all because of the ages she spent in the bathroom. By the way, this piece of gossip was 4 semesters old.

8. Ramya’s torch is always at it;)

9. Ramya’s toothbrush missed the Hyd trip because she packed with too much care to take it along.

10. Pooja spends her first waking moments giving people repeated detailed accounts of how well she slept. She’s too sleepy to notice whether you respond or not.

11. I don’t let people sleep. The man with his head between his hands because he was stuck with the noisy bunch of girls was my biggest success to date.

12. Journeys are as much fun as we can make them.

13. Archana lends new meaning to the round-the-clock concept.

14. Archana’s hot halter leads to a lot of Charchana.

15. Discs leave Sneha delirious. With her hair loose, the overall effect is quite dramatic.

16. Never order desserts in Paradise.

Part 2 of this post if I remember some more things at some point of time…

I’d the best of days… Thank you, you guys:)

light a flame
come build a fire
make a choice
don't light a pyre

plant a seed
watch it grow green
make a choice
don't suck a leaf lean

add new colours
finish the stroke
make a choice
don't let the canvas choke

Hmmm. I'm writing a post about colds...catching a cold, to be more specific. This, of course, sounds crazy to you. Assume that my mind's full of phlegm. Now I don't like this cold. I don't like coughing my guts out.I don't like my strawberry-nose. I don't like my voice sounding like my grandpa's. But I do like the endless cups of coffee and tea and dals and soups that I down with my Mum because of this cold. I do like the conversations that stem from these times. I like where they take me. Yeah. A lot of can happen over coffee. And colds.

a grasp to match your grasp
a finger to tease your touch
a faith carefully rubbed and polished
a friend i am such

i go there often
an ever changing place
where walls melt into mirrors
and i see your face

i go there often
where happiness plays her cards
to know what smoothness is
first i learn to feel the shards

i go there often
knowing you're not quite there
after everything i see hear and despair
when back in bed
i feel us in the night air
i feel you in my hair

i go there often
in your presence and absence
within the ends lies some truth
and it just never makes sense

The only thing to be given is "a damn." The only thing.

I wonder what it feels like to be a football

Black and white
Inanimate
Being kicked around
And not wanted beyond those "kicks"

Come as you are
As you were
As I’ve known you to be…

I was listening to it numbly and then it made sense and then I wrote…

The youngest of boys are my best buddies. And the fanatic zeal about the upcoming Durga Pooja means I get to meet my 2-4-6-8 year old buddies every weekend on account of the eating-meetings that go on. `One of them is particularly special - an eight year old almost visibly grappling with his parents’ abrupt untidy divorce. I’m not judging the parents; I know them to be nice people but watching this child breaks you for those few hours. A few years back he was one of those kids who’d just walk onto the stage while a speech was on, buy as many balloons as the people around were willing to give him and talked incessantly. The toning down that has happened in him is immense. The custody settlements allow him to come over just on alternate weekends and even among forty people he was so popular with then, he seems so unsure of everything. Unsure because of many reasons I guess. Kids know when they’re being talked about, kids know when people pat them out of love or otherwise, kids just know. Since I often feel equally out of place at these gatherings for reasons of my own, we’ve reasons to bond. Those reasons also include making crazy rhymes, drawing crazy figures on the computer and talking about his crazy girl benchmate in class who is “not nice” because “she’s a girl and she brings idlis for lunch – everyday!.” Hehe.

Why I was writing about him is hard to figure out for me even. So, it’s my birthday. When I was a baby I’m sure I wondered what the extra fuss was about on my birthdays. Till around four, I always slept with the firmest possible grip on my mum’s hair-like everything else was uncertain. I remember being unsure of whether the yelling I got at the end of my eight birthday was a part of the ritual. It wasn’t. I remember being so sure that the mike will crash on me or I will stumble on my tenth birthday when all I’d do was say thank you onstage. Nothing like that happened. I remember worrying if all the toffees will get over before I managed to offer them to everyone (despite knowing I’d lots extra) in seventh grade.They didn't. I remember worrying if my friends will turn up for my birthday treat in ninth. They did. I remember sensing that the people around me weren’t really around me on a later birthday. Maybe these were normal concerns at the respective stages or maybe I am a nervous person. I rarely am at ease completely. But this night, good or bad, right or wrong, I see myself less prone to evaluate myself in terms of what people around me say or do. Attachment, entrapment, co-dependence - all get quite ugly beyond a point. I no longer look for people to fill the space. I build the space and gaze at what’s around.

And to what, rather to those who are around, I feel like saying thank you.

I’d been pretty uncertain about my writing for a good while till people came up and told me consistently that they felt that I could write stuff that could be read. I needed it immensely at that point and since what I do with words is a vital part of my well-being, Ramya, Vinod and HP, you guys make me very happy:)

To Pooja, Archana and Sneha for all the showtime that Sho gets. I love the attention:P

To the seven friends who turned up on that birthday treat and still would (no treats happening though). Varun will get one just for spreading the laughs:) And Vivek and Jassi can accost some first grade kid on his birthday for toffees:P:)

To my sister, who’s been burning with her “secret” birthday present for me. She’s practically told me everything about it. And my Dad, who’s willing to take me to the Moon if there were good restaurants there. What a pity that his daughter asks only for dosas and apple juice. And my Gran; she’s also “secretly” making kheer for me when I know she does this every single year. It’s not sweet because of the sugar:)

To my Mum, for transmitting some of herself to me in the genes…if it’s showing by the time I’m twenty, things will only get better.

To Atto, who’s currently getting bugged and giving me the why-can’t-you-shut-the-damn-thing-down-and-sleep-bum looks. I’m as human as he can make me want to be:)

To my three first second third cousin(s), for the pink cards I get every year. Maybe they look for girlie-sisterly-pamperly cards for me:)

To Neeraj, for the stable normal warm buddyhood we have. To Zulfiqaar, my doc, for the daily rants that keep my mind alive. To Anupam, because he’ll come alive from a missing persons list to call on my birthday. To Sampad, because we’ve come a long way.

To Chhavi, for guarding my dreams with fragile hands. I do understand. Love you:)

And to my eight year old buddy, I benefit from talking to him more than he does from the constant company he seeks and gets from me in those two hours of forced socializing. I hope someday he begins to feel at home with himself.

Verbatim is a fun word. Here’s why.


Prof in RVCE…

Wait here for one minute, I’ll be back in two minutes.

I want to marry my daughter and study my son.

You maad baaays, why’re you upping down the stairs?

He will take the jig-jag blade and rub it erotically. (erratically)

With one hand you write the answer, with another mouth you give the attendance.

Imagine a ship flying in the Arabian sea.

I will throw you out of the window.



Saving the best for last…

Put yours inside, if I see yours again I will scratch it. (This is to do with some guy writing his record in class)



My math teacher in middle school…

You children are all behaving like rakshasas.

Children, that sum is wrong. (This she said practically each time she couldn’t work a sum)



And this takes the cake and the bloody bakery, bakers, confectioners everything…

Why children, why are you telling kos-chun 17 kos-chun 17 when this yex-ercise has only 10 kos-chuns?



And in dear old MCC…

Girls you can’t have half half men can you? (This was while explaining why the sample size sort of thing couldn’t be 22.5 and was 225)

I can’t say like that no…If I say doing Rostow is enough and Nurkse comes… (This was when someone asked her what theories could be skipped)

And my favourite…

Girls don’t worry we will have more interesting fathers in the next sessions. (This is regarding an excruciatingly boring Bible Scriptures class two dear and unfortunate friends of mine attended…the first class was held by a “boring father” so to speak)


And so, verbatim is a fun word. ROTFL! This post is near completely compiled by Varun:) Also, inputs from Pooja-Archana:)

PS: The comments on this post continue to get better...

Not so long ago, a door I didn't know of opened. I drew the curtains aside and light flooded in. As it rains and storms I hold on tighter to the light-present but suffering. But light can't be held...light is loved but free, the fruit and the tree.

And the moon doesn't knock on one's door twice.