my own

To float on water and wallow
To look up to a grey-blue sky
To feel the waves curling under a surrendered body and know they will hit a shore… eventually
To dip as the water bullets pelt harder

To be pushed around like a lone branch carried by the wind
To surrender to drowning, breathlessness, injury on rocks and more
On Faith
The Faith burning a hot cold white at the core, ‘You will survive’
When all else you think has faded, You will survive the voice whispers
You are not your body
You are not your face
You are not your memory
So surrender

There is no question of the match fighting a flame
You are one in the same

11/08/10

Resolution

In spite of all evidence to the contrary, I will still believe in Goodness.

समय के साथ बदलना आवश्यक है

हम अब हिंदी में ही बात करेंगे ब्लौग पर। बस, हमने समझ लिया है की ब्रीटिश नें हमारा कितना फायदा केवल अंग्रेजी के सहारे ही उठाया है। पूरी बात बाद में ही बता देंगे।
अब हमसे और नहीं सहा जाएगा।

हो सके तो अभी भी पढ़ते रहना।

नमस्कारम
जय हिंद

:D

Practice makes perfect, right?
*shoo hindi accent, I'll show you non-believers!*

bouquets and brickbats

Iwillcallyou
Youwillcallme

Iwillloveyou
Youwillloveme

Illgetangry
Youllgetmad

Togetherhappy
Togethersad?

The interesting thing about intersections is..we tread on them temporarily
but for that minute there is a meeting of tracks..where you can choose your roads..
once again..
roll that dice
consult that map
and pick the best path forward.. or even back home again.
to try soon later.
when the traffic is slower
when you're up for a dry ride

because the roads go on
as long as hands have laid them down
painstakingly
uninterestingly
forever unacknowledged
on on steadily on
bumpy-ily on
on and on..

we can meet on that intersection
where concrete melts paths

smile.
and if
if
if its meant to be
I'll jump into your car
or you into mine

because belief in destiny still thuds deep
between folds of realistic endings

Tripping

There are days when I forget why it meant as much as it did.
what made me pick this side of the street? memory fails me occasionally and the words spill out contrived. old. Said once by someone old who meant them, repeated by me because thats how I used to feel.

But then again, there are these moments when I can write
"Because its like stepping into two worlds and choosing with each breath.. Which you prefer to stay in more. Will I know someone who understands?"

And thats what keeps me a-walking-down-this-street.. Not turning back to those old crossroads.
Not selling my soul..because briefly i realize..this street kept my soul alive.

Glorious moonshine

Before every big transition there is a strange lull.
where in the yellow desert the hot wind rises and sings a song never before heard.
a new tune each time to curl around the changing dunes.

when hope is fierce like the scorching sun.
and little grains of memories flow
as if they have places to go.


when that first step is over with.
and the brown ankle firm.
I know the wind will simmer down.
the heat will accept defeat.
glory of days gone by will shine.
and I will reap the benefits of my past.

I don't want life to re-wind. I just want a fresh tape.