Thursday, April 28

The Dreamer


The sky was black. Not the black that leads you to despair, but the black that makes you want to lie back and gaze at it, and for some unknown reason count the glittering, luminous spheres of plasma spread over it generously. I was, however, too self-involved to even care.

Just last Sunday, in one of his restless, philosophizing mood, he had told me, 'I know my dream is to be the guy who has everything -immeasurable, insane amount of money, women , crazy, easy success and all of this without the side effects, of course. I want a peace too, you see.  ' After a moment's consideration, he adds, (his voice dipping, making him sound more sincere, less pretentious) ' You'd think having lived all this while shaping a dream this elaborate and to die young, before achieving it would be a tragedy but the catch is that you would have already achieved it in a way then. How? You would then become the person who had almost superhuman potentials a perfect entity, the guy-who-could-have-achieved-anything-he-put-his-mind-to. Your self-doubt, your moments of excruciating insecurities  and over-critical self-reflection would then vanish and would have existed in vain. For you, apparently, had what it took to be what you dreamt of.'' His eyes glued to the screen, not staring at anything in particular, just seemed to have forgotten my presence next to him. 

The next moment we are busy watching a mindless comedy and laughing our guts out just for the heck of it.  He had always been a little strange; 'eccentric', he liked to call himself. This is, probably, why he was the one guy whom I trusted since I was a kid. Maybe his was   a case of borderline neurosis, but he knew the line between being selfish and being a cold hearted betrayer and he had always respected it...until one day when he decided to betray my faith on his insanity and jump off the roof.

He just let me stand by and watch him die.
He may have meant it for me to be a part of his grand scheme, his master-plan to make sure he achieves everything he but I refuse not to feel betrayed just because he is dead.
I did not ask to be a part of this and be damned for ever.

Today as I saw the twilight hue fade to give way to the black sky, I noticed the sky and the ever-so-many twinkles from the beautiful explosions of gas, performing, as it seemed to me, specially for me. 
Picture credit: Xavier Photography

Sunday, April 24

The Fall


‘Today, I refuse to use my wings. Let’s just fall.’, mused the angel, standing at the edge, with an awkward grin.

‘I guess this is how He felt when he fell. Although, the whole falling part isn’t all that bad- it’s rather exciting- I am curious how the experience of landing was.’

Sudden realization: ‘Ouch!’ 

shared with G-man.

Every one have a kick-ass Easter and try not to fall without precautions, or you'll miss out on all the yum easter eggs. 

Friday, April 22

Summer Poetry (Guest post)

Finally she found that one fault that would lead to her final redemption. The exaltation in her cry ran deep, as did the moan that finally died within the dark pit in her body. The sense of geography was lost as the dislocation settled. She would finally leave his poetry, poetry that was for her, about her, was her- for she was 'Kobita'.As she found that one fault in him, she knew- so did he- that she was beyond his realm, and for forever.

This is a guest post written, graciously(under short notice and amidst exams), by one of my favourite bloggers, dearest beloveds and spunkiest punks Miss Pepper-Polo aka Paulami. Thank you. 

Wednesday, April 20

mea máxima culpa

It rained today. A lot. I sat in my room and got to thinking about the things I've done and the things I plan to do in the years ahead. Suddenly my thoughts were clouded by a memory, which now seems very distant, almost as if it never happened.

I killed Nadia Joseph. Calling the authorities will be pointless. They won't find anything. I've spent years thinking over every detail.

I can still see it vividly-  breathing her last few, painful, breaths. Her eyes look so un-Nadia- like. Cold, dim, fixed on a distant vision of the forgotten past-on a regret.

We were seven when we first met- Nadia and I. I knew then that one day she would die and that it would be me who would kill her. Her family had moved in into the next apartment. I was on the swing trying to touch the leaves of the low branch hanging over the swing with my feet.  Nadia, wearing a yellow bib dress and flip flops runs down with her locks flowing like a cape behind her. Without a word, she grabs my arm, pulls me off the swing, sits on the swing and swings higher and higher in a mysterious bliss, which I was not a part of. I stared at her, dumbfounded. She tossed back her hair, flashed the first of many gorgeous smiles I’d learn to loathe, and went higher with her toes stretched to touch the wet leaves I had set my eyes on.

I began to plot her death.  I thought it noble and poetic to use my own bare hands, the very ones she grabbed that day and fixed the venue in the park by the swing. It was months later when I actually made an attempt. It was late evening and we were playing in the park. She was excitedly talking about the presents she got for her birthday last night. I could not bear the ring in her voice, the aura around her and that wretched incredible smile. 

Without much conscious efforts, I pushed her hard from the back. She fell, face down. I ran quickly and smothered her face harder into the soil. Her socked feet  flailing, and hands trying to grab on to something- maybe to life- encouraged me. A few moments passed, she went limp. I turned her around. She lay there with her dress muddy and her face smeared with dirt.  I cleaned her face. It was beautiful. Ran my fingers over her brows and kissed her forehead.

I could have sworn she smiled.

Monday, April 18


Thanking Jingle for the award
You move into a new city.
Away from the madness and the past.
You find a new job and with it, independence.
First day at work, your eyes spot him in the crowd.

He is incredibly handsome;
Incredibly out of your league.
But for some strange reason he spots you too.
And he'd like to fuck you!

He steals you away from the loaded work-table,
And takes you to an unmade, well-slept in bed.

Your head screams out all the things you saw in the mirror each day-
hideous, unattractive, rejected and always unwanted.
Before you question him-
'why do you want me?'

-He pretends that your curves are delectable 
and your scars sexy. 
His voice sounds like soft silken touch 
as he moans your name gently into your ears.

And you ...
You shut out your screaming head,
Close your eyes tight, 

And pretend he didn't talk to other girls like that.

shared with poetry potluck. and Thursday Poets' Rally#42.

Friday, April 15



The dawn felt like the warm something she felt while spreading a good helping of nutella over bread for her mid-night snack. It had been over 2 days now. She knew she just had to keep awake for a few more hours and someone would come and pull her out of this hell.

Sunday, April 10

Value added Services

Dear The One,
I haven't met you yet; or maybe I have and  am unaware. This is to let you know that you are being thought of very fondly this moment.

Sincerely, Me
Image credit: Aby Abraham

p.s: shared with Monkey Man as a Sunday 160.
Like to text? Say what you want to in 160 characters, including spaces.
If you're brave enough
give it a go - it's not as easy as it looks!

Friday, April 8

Favourited Vol. IX ('To read and to fuck')

Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite; it surpasses our own deaths, our fears, our hopes for peace.” 
2666, Roberto Bolaño

Thursday, April 7

In the mood for some rose today.

thanks Jingle
for the award. I'd like to nominate Haggishead 


In the mood for some prose today;
Some Chat from Chaupati, Bombay.

In the mood for some prose today;
A favourite playlist put on replay.

In the mood for some prose today;
 To look at you in slumber sitting by where you lay.

In the mood for some prose today
A bookmark on a page, crying over its overstay.

In the mood for some prose today;
Lazy blinks glued to liquid crystal TV display.

In the mood for some prose today.

(the morning after)

I cracked a joke and laughed myself.'At least that's 50% of the crowd.'

I looked into my eyes and complimented.'At least I still find a mystery in them.'

I made some pancakes and had it myself. 'At least someone likes what I cook.'

I read a book and smiled to myself. 'At least The book knows I smiled.'

I looked at you and turned to my side. 'At least someone's not lying next to a beloved-dead(*checks her own heart beat*)'

Monday, April 4

Rainbow chicken

pick any color for just Indian Rupee ₹3 each.
I've seen the best minds of my time, lost in finals, Facebook & fornication.
Liberated within the walls of over-accomplishments
Garbed in their colored sameness.

p.s: shared with Monkey Man as a Sunday 160.
Say what you want to in 160 characters, including spaces.
It's probably all that texting across the classroom that inspired the idea.If you're brave enough
give it a go - it's not as easy as it looks!