Sunset

Peach, purple,

Pale mauve and dip

Into the sea

And behind those

Distant hills.

Colours left
Lingering on the palette

Of the sky until,

Until the brush strokes,

Ignited by the fire

From the embers

Can no longer paint.

But fade out

Into the inky blackness

Of tonight…

Breaking free...

I need to go somewhere, I need to break free. I need to feel the wind in my hair, feel speed, dance in the wind… I need to fly, once again, I need to feel free, not be tied down by the shackles and bondage of this life, this barren everyday life. It is sapping me of life and leaving me dry. I need to weave through space and merge time according to my whims and my caprice. I need to stand atop someplace high and scream…


Take me away,
Through sun and space
Where the rushing waves
And the ebbing sands
Shall melt into me.

Take me away
And lead me to a
Cosmic ball-room
Where the stars shall
Dance with me.

Come, lets weave scarlet magic tonight…

To Your Eyes

In your large, brown eyes,


I have seen infinity,

Stretching far beyond visible horizons

Continuing into your thoughts

Unconnected, mysterious.

I have read in them,

A lyric, composed for timeless wonders

That I can never touch.

In your large, brown eyes,

I have felt faith.

It just exists, not knowing where

It will be mirrored; so far

Having stumbled upon but broken glass.

I have found peace,

That you have not found yourself.

In your large, brown eyes,

A concoction of tears and love,

Of ennui and passion,

Of hope and yonder…

Hair-Raising

A nugget of truth: most people aren’t happy with their hair. They’d rather have it in a different cut, texture, colour or not have it at all! I have met people with all sorts of hair; long, silky, curled, horribly curled, rough, smooth… and it would be a unanimous vote to them being unmanageable. On the very day you want your hair to settle down, they’ll come up in spikes. It’s almost as if the moment one goes to sleep, their hair decides to play on their heads. The result: an agony filled morning looking at oneself in the mirror wondering why on earth all hair is standing on one end. Then there are the gels, the hair-brushes, curlers, straighteners, oil, shampoo, softener, conditioners, strengtheners yada-yada-yada… they will not listen, they will not conform. You shall be doomed to facing peoples’ looks. But fear not, it stems from their insecurity. Have faith, for they’d rather have hair like yours! All hair has become followers of Medusa…

Dread

When you shall


Make your uphill climb

Solitary, alone

When there shall

Be none to break

Your fall…

Its to me you’ll turn

Lost and jaded

Me who you spurned

Aeons ago

And I shall take

A candle flame

And burn your heart

As you burnt mine…

This is one of the most shocking pictures I've seen.

I was five then, which would approximately be this girl's age... and I know people (notice how I say people, and not a someone) who heap their plates with food they aren't sure of, or don't like.

It's wrong, to say the least. If you do it, STOP.

On crying

I just got back from the washroom a couple of minutes ago. As I walked into a stall, I heard a sniffle from the adjacent stall. Slowly it turned into sobbing and then a violent outburst of tears that the girl (it could’ve been a lady, but she sounded young) kept trying to stifle. I felt so terrible and helpless… what does one do in situations like this? I am a strong believer of the fact that a person cries only when the pain is too great. The human heart has an immense ability to stand pain, the limit is almost astonishing. So when one is driven to tears, it is the person’s last ditch attempt at holding on to sanity.
As I stood there debating if I should call out and ask her if she was alright, I realised that each of us, at some point in time or the other, has felt lost and despondent. Would she wish for company? Would she wish to be asked? I didn’t say a word; I didn’t know how to handle it. But I was moved. It has been quite a while since I encountered anyone crying like that, as if her world was falling apart. And at a point where I feel, my world too is just a house-of-cards, I hope she’ll pick up the pieces too, as I have been doing…

Parting

(to the one that left)

Blue…
Your eyes, lingering,
Like your voice in my head.
Random moments flit past,
Images, half-hidden
From view, like stars
On cloudy nights.
Pale…
Your serene face,
As I left you, solitary
In a bustling world. Your smile, your hair;
Stations in time,
Fabricated colours.
Void…
My days, strange and
Surreal in wait.
In anger and pain.
Void – your first look to me,
My last look to you…