Thursday 17 November 2016

We haven't met yet.

The young night, dressed on with pale moonlight,
And the music is fine,
like the bubbling sparkling wine.
The evening's starry breathtaking gown,
holding hands in the towne.

~We danced through the night,
Darling, we lit up like starlight.
I heard you smile over my shoulder,
The shiver sparked a snow-white stone colder.
And in the moment, I forget you're older.

Walking home, evening shine.
Nervous touch,
Staying up, and waking up- hand in hand.
Summer breeze across the floor.
Candle reflections in the door.

~I knew I'm so in love with you
I want to stay with you,
Until we're grey and old.
I hope you know.




Friday 23 September 2016

Knots.

"In writing, habit seems to be a much stronger force than either willpower or inspiration."

.John Steinbeck-

Basking in the cold of the winter, sweetened by the warmth of morning sun- home is too far. There is an unattended pile of things to do; books to read, groceries to be bought, classes to be joined, places to be seen, friends to be called, family to be seen. Home is too far. 

Reminiscence is a part of the day to day chores. 
The smell of the roasting masalas. The pug marks on the edge of the bed. The little munchkin's chatter. Dad's bed-time tucks, just, making sure everyone got in okay. Mom's stories. 
Mindfulness, absentmindedly, clinging onto home. But home is too far.


Life in letters.
Change happens in little sniffles through the curtain of dawn. 
I'm abandoning and losing the idea of writing the 500 pages. Trying for that one page each day. At the finish of it, in the end, it's always a surprise. 



Monday 20 June 2016

Distractions.

“Until science can explain
How this world began,
You, me and everything else
Will be magic.”
“How are you?” I enact to myself in front of the bathroom mirror trying to mimic a real-time conversation. As I flip through the daily ‘to do’s of my diary, I realize how soon time passed by. All of past 6 months, could they have gone by, so soon. Maybe in the rush of familiar routine, everyday regime- of waking up, getting to work, working the chaotic undertones of work and friendships, filling in the loose gaps with recreations.
Earlier this week, when I actually started writing this article, it talked a lot about liqueurs and placid music tones. About beautiful blue bays, sunny soccer fields, picnic tables, and rainy runaways.  The magnetism and fascination catches on. I got distracted.

A few days have passed since; the irenic collective playing still has me preoccupied.


Glittering quicksilver.

Wednesday 8 June 2016

Suitcases.

"My dance is neither a philosophy nor a job; it is the way I am feeling emotionally. This is why I move."
- Olga Kuraeva.

It's awfully quiet nowadays. It gets dark sooner than usual.  When the sunshine breaks through the curtains, I'm still tired from the sleeplessness.

The flickering lights look beautiful at night from up so high. I should tell, my new current temp address is the 14th floor of a building. Facing the bay. With the Anzac bridge placed delicately over it. The crystal blue waters match the clear blue skies perfectly. Even the white floating yachts imitate the luscious clouds. It's scintillating, the view from here. The township on this side of the bay isn't too de rigueur. The paper mache browns of the buildings are well compensated by the greens and yellows of the winter season.
It's close to a scene out of a fairytale. 
In the current temp, it's still a little messy- the room, the luggage, the hair. The suitcases are all open. Yet to be unpacked. Don't know it's worth yet. The current temp validation is only until another day. And then the next one, for a week perhaps. Maybe a few juggles around, until.. until some time.

Learning the ways of nomadic fate. (living out of suitcases)

The stage never gives you second chance, so I prefer photos and videos. The camera is able to capture real and deep emotions. 


"It doesn't matter if I dance well or not- the most important thing is that it is real."

Sunday 24 April 2016

Work In Progress.

Probably the longest I've gone without blogging something. Not that I didn't scribble here and there from time to time, or at least I think.
Thinking if I should bother cooking up an excuse. Isn't it something we all look for in stories, 'answers'. I could probably talk about how I've been preoccupied with work (for 5 whole months, day in day out, what, are you kidding me!). Or maybe figuring a life plan, I am 24 after all, it is time I decide where to go here on, professionally, personally (could work, age beneficiary, and all of those 'what are you doing with your life' questions from ever concerned parents).

Honestly, I'd be shamming it. (epiphany post countless Friends and House MD episodes later)

I'm going to talk about how I was looking for some sort of of right kind of inspiration. (And that's my excuse of the millennium, you don't get you use it. Ha.)
Okay, 'nuff with the jokes.

For those of you who've missed out, I have made it to the news headlines. Look from afar, I have it all figured. I have the coolest job- working this awesome profile. Try topping that with getting to do your own room after a lifetime of planning. That's that. Let's see, job, house, I think I've covered it all. Almost.
Recent turn of randomness made me apply for masters. I started with Delhi...Mumbai maybe...considering other states, more cities, keep options open.

I won't bore you with the details. I am leaving soon. The continent. Barely 30 days to go.

All formalities done. Well, getting there.

Been super busy collecting stuff to take. I have a blue suitcase close by and a one-way ticket in hand. The pile of clothes to be packed in the corner of the room is a literal version of a mountain out of a molehill.

Suitcases and Jetplanes.



Ps. The need to write this one came while I was in a metro-train and found myself dancing to the music blaring in my headphones. I loved every bit it.