we did not leave our names behind, not even dug prints of our paws on the walls.

you said we needn't claim everything.

that those sheltered caves needn't love me back.

it was a chanced discovery that led to what they call a life altering experience. As you and i stood there, for a moment i saw the whole universe.

And as you pulled me along and we walked away turning our backs... i glanced at the caves once..

i think never in life again will i be yearning..as much as i was in that moment to say... " I was here" and hold something by it.

Dear Firefly,

it is the Autumn that makes all of Autumn vain. when you lie on your back underneath the sun

the breeze stirs you up and reminds you of wilderness.

Your in Love... and you will stop at nothing. You will not reason, you will not see... you will not do anything that makes your love a little less Incredible.

it is night and as i speak of a purple... you talk about violet.

You have lost your mind... and i have too.. both on different things.

The ghost of my deceased grandfather who's socks i once tore up just to annoy him, had visited me few nights ago and taken away everything. turned all my thoughts into ghosts like him who touch no ground because they have no feet.

we cant trace those who stay afloat. thus, i hadn't written a word ever since.

i feel majorly unoccupied now, having nothing to do besides the telly or the phone.

the thoughts have run and the words too... but everything else remains

isolation, solitude, the nights and the dim.

If only i could convince myself that i am slightly delusional then maybe i'd be a lot more hopeful.

:(

The one who used to clench his fists to soften his hard heart ..

i knew him well

and his poor, unobtrusive heart which flowed in ebs, noiselessly...

and he always compared it to the fossils or a rattling car.

and thought he's lived his whole life in the absense of it.

Sometimes it's difficult to make out if there is someone on the otherside of the phone at all, i barely talk back or respond.. but maa goes on and on... if she sniffs disappointment or anxiety in my voice. The most pointless and irrelevant detail is brought up, little scraps from here and there.... which mostly end up in me saying.." Maa, stop bothering me ... not in a mood"

I remember, as a kid.. i flocked behind her all day whenever i sensed that she was upset. she would be unattentive doing her chores.. but would somehow feel my empathy.

and I always thought that my mother and I were completely different people...

When i was a child, i used to say that trees didnt speak because they were caught up in deep thinking all the time. I carried on with this imagery for so long, and even now maybe it still remains some where in my mind. The other day, i drew out a fresh green plant as a symbol for myself and my imaginary person seems to be quite much... some day maybe i'd wind up in a house by myself.. as my thoughts shall leave no room for others to visit or stay...all kith and kin shall be dead..nd all lovers left... so that they lead happier lives with others..

memories, i will store in pickel jars... nd thoughts shall flow with white linen curtains as sunlight filters in through them...

Someone i hardly know remarked: you know, for your own kind.. you think too much, are unusually suspicious, tend to talk a lot but go write short little poems instead". i chukled.

i am alarmed at how gooey i have got off late since the monsoons.. perpetually fluttering eyes and dream mushing even in sticky, patchy bus rides.
these days i can manage to de-annoy myself, to be a little distracted from this squarish life and act like an anthropologist living amidst the village within myself and meticulously documenting humanity ...

p.s :)