On one such highly romantic evenings
I will be walking down the most romantic street
Singing my favourite love song

Old Joe’s, the karaoke bar, the brothels, the cemetery
Walking past all the places made famous for love..
Walk until I reach the river edge

I shall dip my legs in the water, sit there for a while
Thinking of you as you live in another continent
Picture you, stooping over books or moving from one room to another.

And as the city lights fade,
My romance will come to a close
And i shall see sparks in heaven..
And I have been waking up every morning with a feeling that
This world would come to an end. that all would be lost and gone.
It’s distressing at bang though but things change, things pick up as the day picks up.
Once I met a girl who said she was a rock star. Said she put on black pants and black paint and wore her black wonder bra in each of her rock concerts
Although blue was her favourite colour. Although black she thought made her sexy.
Then she spent the next half hour and also the only half hour of us knowing each other in convincing that she was for real.
The other day at an art gallery with ‘abstract art’ on exhibit... i wondered.
I saw those bold, inexplicable colours, brush strokes, hand paintings... and i wondered that even if it didn’t need meaning, how does the artist decide where to begin and where to end.
With things that are solely beautiful and meaningless otherwise, how does one begin and end with these things.
And then I equated Art with Love. Found them both absurd and rash.

And these are random thoughts thought at various times of the day or may be the week.
Sometimes I wish that i didn’t try so hard. that I came out of this spell of constant sense, reasoning and defending. That I lost my mind once in a way so I cant remember any. Not even my name.
Then I think how ridiculous you are, and how ridiculous I am in loving you.
And it’s something that I find oddly and darkly comic.


This silence which fills this room, this house and me
Is not the wretched or the mourning kind
It’s a quite life, an animal with soft paws.

There’s so much of you to think of, so much to remember and keep remembering
That these walls, the air and me…meditate
be still, without movement
So that you come afloat and stir within us…


If I ever crack what love is….
I will run looking for you… once when I find you… I will tell you all about it.
You will be busy doing your regular chores of the day…
I will flock behind you like a trail suspended in god’s space.
And I will tell you all about it. all day long, all night long...
My eyes will roll, I will lift my hands up in the air,
Go on and on with shrill pitches in my voice.
You may listen to me, respond to me in the beginning
And later on ask me to stop with mild resignation,
But I will talk, trailing behind you, watching you do your chores
and my eyes will roll, my hands raised in the air….


Like the smell of cinnamon
Or the smell of home grown mangoes spread underneath the bed for ripening.
like the calm settling and the dust settling at dusk.
the game of Ikir-Mikir.
like the first knowledge of Boy love Girl stories.
a collection of New Year and Birthday greetings.
Like a picture of deep, sleeping fishes of the aquarium which never sink.

I want to feel some real beauty. I want to write some real pleasure.