Wisps.

These smoke screens.
Our comfort
Hidden by what we claim to know
What we claim to be
Hiding what we are
Who we want to be
We hold on to these wisps
Grasping, searching, hoping,
for a hold in the ephemeral.
But it goes on,
The continuous sublimation
the constant lack of stability
of belonging.
Until we stop,
grasping, searching, hoping.
And just let the smoke envelop us.
Cover us, hiding us again.
Lost in what it claims to be -
until we ourselves don't seem to exist anymore

becoming exactly that,
What we were hoping to avoid,
Insubstantial.
Smoke.Screens.

So it turned out just the same as everyone else

After the initial spurt of enthusiasm that creating a new blog brought on, it was pretty much banished to the recesses of my mind. The initial few weeks were all about putting things up, finding things to put, making things that were put up pretty and all that jazz.

Then the boredom set in. The blog, became a blog, just another outlet of mine in this crazy crazy world. Things went up as and when splotches of colour came up on the gray horizon, chronicling the rainbows in my life.

Even later, the blog became a chronicle of just the gray. My shoulder to lean on. My place to vent about things I couldn't say. And soon enough it assumed a character so whiny and morose, I felt like stabbing it in the eye myself.

And then today, I blew the dust off my keypad, and decided, enough was enough. This thing used to be my baby. I need to go back to taking care of it. Here I am hoping that this second burst of enthusiasm will keep this alive this time around, that the second coming will be for real.

Friends around me are actively getting off their asses and getting things done. This is just a blog right?

Piece of cake.

Blog 2.0

Here I come.

Those Days.

Today is one those days.

You know those days by the way your toes feel on the ground in the morning, searching for your slippers in the cold.

By the way your alarm rings, earlier than its supposed to, too late to go back to sleep.

By the way the sky looks, blue but not bright, cloudy but not overcast.

By the way it threatens to rain, like your tears threatening to fall.

But nothing happens.

Its just one of those days.

The coffee is too sweet.

The water all cold.

You can't find the clothes you wanted to wear.

Those memories you want to hold.

Forgotten phones, missed call dramas,

Chocolate cake ice cream cravings.

The beach just too far away.

You can't catch their eyes,

conversations just flow by.

Its a sloth kind of day.

The kind where you want to smile, can't find the energy to.

The kind where you want to laugh, can't find a reason to.

The kind where you want to cry, can't find the tears to.

The kind where nothing's wrong, but nothings right either.

Its just an in between day.

Average.

Drained. Coping.

Surrendering.

Beyond caring.

Homecoming.

The rain drums a steady beat on the outside patio
Steam rises from the tea in my hands
I hold on to the cup, savouring its warmth,
scrutinising my reflection in its brown depths,
its sweetness dissolving on my tongue.

An errant mosquito strays in my direction,
ends up a maroon spat on my stinging, swelling skin.
A lizard silently watches the proceeding from the wall.
Tongue out, tongue in, contemplations of a meal lost perhaps.

Inhale, exhale, the smell of old books,
dust and musty furniture mingles,
triggering nostalgia, tickling old memories
languishing in long forgotten corners of my brain.

In the next room, a pot gurgles, a kettle whistles, wood crackles.
My eyes sting from the smoke of the fire.
My nose finds a thread of smell, a familiar flavour.
A smile, a childhood favourite.

A sip of tea, warm happiness, a muffled radio plays,
pages of a book rustle, flapping in the breeze, sitting forgotten, on my lap.
A babble of conversation, loud laughter. I giggle.
The inside joke, a feeling of inclusion, of belonging. Family.

At my grandmother's once again,
at home after all these years.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

-Kahlil Gibran.

Exam Haiku

Ten, Twelve, Two, Four.
Studying, cramming. Tension.
Sleep?? Alarm! Coffee.

Mugged hard? Remember
battles and growth and Freud and trade.
Damn. Give me my book.

Spell check. Time check. Neat?
Invigilator stares. Cripes.
Four questions down. Help.

Exams at an end.
Entrances begin now. Boo.
Oh God, kill me now.

Fates Amusement

They say the strongest emotion in the world is love. I beg to disagree. To me it isn't.
Amusement is. You may wonder what I find so amusing...A lot of things actually.

It amuses me that I notice the littlest things about you – the way your eyebrows furrow when you are irritated, the way you bite your lips when you're indecisive, the way your eyes light up when you laugh.

It amuses me that I know that you prefer beige to cream and yet I don't know the difference myself.

It amuses me that I know you almost better than myself –I can predict almost every reaction of yours-so myriad in their extent.

It amuses me that I think you are the second most beautiful person on earth (the first being my mother) and yet you try the damned hardest to fade into the brickwork.

It amuses me that you think you know me at all – the person you see isn't who I am in reality. It's funnier that you judge me on the precious little you know of me.

It amuses me that you claim we are poles apart –essentially we aren't that different –we're both looking for happiness.

It amuses me the way you treat me like a piece of particularly musty furniture.

It amuses me that we cant spend more than ten minutes together without rising tempers and flying insults. It probably doesn't help that I turn into a blithering idiot every time I see you.

It amuses me that I have developed a resistance to hurt you insults give me –because I enjoy your stolen moments of companionship too much.

It amuses me that most of the time you hurt me without meaning to –like when you giggle at that idiot unnecessarily.

It amuses me that tomorrow if I die, my last thought would probably be of you.

But most of all, it amuses me that the only thing I love –hates me with an equaled intensity.


He finally stopped typing and stared at the glowing screen in front of him, the only light in the darkness of the room. He took of his spectacles and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was supposed to be making a list. Ironically, now he couldn't remember what the list was about. He sighed and supposed it would have to wait till the morning. He turned to face the open window near by and sat there staring at inky darkness of the night, blank. He let out another deep, wistful sigh, suddenly feeling oddly relieved. He put his glasses on and sat in his chair alone, the glowing laptop his only company. After a few more minutes, he got up and silently made his way to his bed room. He had never looked so weary before.


Her determined stride was clearing a path for her. No one wanted to be in her way. She was furious, annoyed and mildly paranoid, and everyone knew better than to stand in her way. She reached him and patted him on the back with a vehemence not thought possible of her.

“What exactly is this?” she asked waving a piece paper with some text on it, rather hysterically, if you looked at it from an objective point of view. He merely cocked his head to one side and continued watching her placidly.

“You know what amuses me?” her voice rising a few octaves. She continued and answered her own question, oblivious to the fact that she had attracted a rather amused audience. “It amuses me that you feel anything for me beyond an urge to complete a challenge. It amuses me that you chose to write this down instead of telling me. It amuses me that you think that I would compare you to piece of furniture” She paused and took a look around before continuing “It might be crediting you with too much” Her voice almost a hiss. He continued watching her, his face blank, his eyes betraying the interest he showed in her. The crowd erupted with gasps and a few mutters erupted across the varied tables.

At that moment, as the crowd watched the two wrapped up in a hug that seemed to convey everything, they knew that this would never end. As she leaned over and kissed his forehead, they knew too.
They were fated to be together, everyone knew that. And now, fate was having the last laugh.

That New Year Resolution

Someday, you will find me,
sitting on a marshmallow
of my own happiness.

Someday, you will find me,
swimming in a punch,
of my own sorrow.

Someday you will find me,
quivering like jelly
in my own excitement.

Someday, you will find me,
all whipped up like cream
in my own anger.

Someday you will find me
spooning comforting little pudding cups.

Someday, soon, maybe today.
I'll decide on that diet.