'Cause reveries are short-lived, but only the warmth lives on. As the morning heat brings with it the vibrancies of purity and newness, I'm lost in thought of the faces dimmed out and mazed out and doped out and out there for me to search, with a pain that silences the tears and beats at your chest.
And as the familiarity of the situation, the been-there-felt-it feeling dawns on you, in a not so happy way, with a despair that's as perpetual as the warming glow that lights my cheek in those moments of cold when warmth is an exciting thing to live with. If only for an instant.
"But you can make me happy, as only you can do"
I've had a confounding relationship with the colour yellow, with all its mysterious hues and dazes, it brings in loneliness that none but the lonely know. And as I hover about in the heat of the sunrise, only the unaccompanied hand tinges at the connecting veins, which go on to pull a plug at my mind, 'cause the heart only pumps blood, and I have shed the idiosyncrasies surrounding it, along with the childhood hopes.
And as I incessantly type with no cue of spaces, full stops and alterations or make-believes, I can only hope that these words flutter about in space and make a stop at your lips, the ones who's movement I was so accustomed to until yesterday. And all the while, I'll sit with a camera in my hand, trying to capture those hues of sunlight that come to me, staring at me in my face, desperately trying to convince me of conviction, and the irony of the credulousness will only make me shed a tear and move on.
P. S. My second last fantabulous february post! Sheds a silent tear.
Can check out Kanika's and the other posts here!
He was a sweet boy, with emotions seeping into his inner self, and resting mum on his lips.
He was considerate, in ways that deemed understanding improbable.
He was kind and innocent, with his innocence melting your heart enough to make you want to nurture it.
He loved, like a child, as ferociously and with unwavering passion.
Until, he grew up. Well, one could say there is nothing wrong with that. Growing up comes with its share of lessons, right?
But no, he grew up and outshone us all. Soon, we were small ants in his world of flickering lights, and ants are small, and are ignored.
Soon enough, he said the unexpected.
Soon enough, there was no more to hear of him again.
I've been thinking, that this blog has been emo for a really long time, and its been a while I did a casual post, so I thought I''ll put up my favourite pictures that I clicked at Kala Ghoda'12 this year. Honest criticism will be appreciated.
'cause life comes with its various facets.
That's Bidyut Mama. A friend's uncle, who stays at Shantiniketan, he had a stall of beautiful ceramic pottery. Such a beautiful face.
As she dazed into those open spaces, where human minds seldom visit, she quickly formulated questions of things given and things acquired. Clearly, there was enough disintegration between the two, and if not always, one must at least sometimes appreciate the care of the giver and the callousness of the taker.
As instances were noted down, and quietly acknowledged, lessons were taught to self.
As lessons had life altering implications, and must be recalled in life more than once, she did realise that jotting them down in a handbook would perhaps induce likeness, in every sense. Thus, notes were made.
But lessons were never learnt.
Years later, when questions would be reiterated over tears of solitude, and when the need for complacence and company would be intensely magnified, notes would never be consulted. Rather, pain shall be nurtured and cried over. Perhaps, she now rues, it was meant to work like that.
I lose you in the maze for outcasts,
and valiantly searching,
I embark onto a life utterly unknown,
that warrants wait
And in your masked-out utterances,
I search for the truth,
loosing myself in the mesh.
As the uncertain puzzles,
fail to fit in,
I find myself disoriented
in the times to come.
P. S. The picture has been clicked by me. What do you guys think?
As I sifted through the endless seams of nonchalant whispers, I was encapsulated by the beauty of your serenity. Your austerely handsome face creating ripples of desire in those void spaces of my mind. And as I see how vain my desire for you makes me, I smile, resting my head on those steps of composure, while my mind was ticking away counting the moments of solitude. For it is no one but you, that makes the world beautiful to look at. For it is you, who makes me feel beautiful thus. And as I search for your reflection in the naughty flow of water, I'm left to touch your absence, but the beauty of those simmering yellow lights, that soak into my deep seeping thoughts.
P. S. My post for Fantabulous February again!
Kanika's post here
And Soumi's here.
'Cause as everything seems to fall apart, happenings happen, and take a place in your heart.
Sang on stage in front of A R Rahman yesterday. And as my insides shivered with nervousness, and as I struggled to stand affront, with regular feelers of my throat drying up, and also forgetting the lyrics, and covering them up conveniently, I felt beautiful.
Closure is a funny conspiratorial word. And the human mind is a deceiving scumbag. It searches for contentment, albeit a temporary one in every sphere of life. Complacency of work, of friendship, and of love. And love comes with its own temporary illusions, and exciting perturbedness. "And as we tread the excluded lines, and as we fluster with fear, of what might be induced, that obstructed feeling, that we've tried being oblivious to. But then as we held hands tights, and mustered incoherent words of amour, we knew the world just comprised, of us two."
And then, we concluded, the world was pretty small, after all.
It isn't an overbearing grief,
well, it just tugs at your pillow,
when you're fighting sleep.
Not much to fret over,
just insides crying,
and resisting restraint.
I think I can overcome
this manipulation of affliction,
just some colours of rue,
that will soon disintegrate
I think I can,
while trying to forget your crimson lips,
and all your tribulation that came with it.
In the momentary pain that followed,
smiles were discovered
in the treasuries one holds to heart.
So, unearthing papers of doom,
I just chose to scribble,
hard determined words of wisdom.
and then chose to open up,
to a sunlight of deep contentment.
I knew I could.
P. S. This article is for Kanika's Fantabulous February series.
I love that girl. I love her BLOG more.
Do check it out. Also, I suggest you guys join Fantabulous February, just click here and butt in.