"i don't have tea!!!"

really???


"don't I???"

i have to ask this question to myself now. i am not very fond of it but i have it nonetheless. i choose it over coffee at times. just because someone is having it or because it is better at the galla. but i do. and it is not about that coffee anymore it is about sticking to the identity i had carved for myself or maybe people had carved for me.

i know i write after ages but i dare to write this. i don't care if people read it and frankly even if it is not. or do i??? why is it on a blog?? because as anand says its safer!!! or because it is out there??? i don't know, maybe i am too struck by the virus...! the one i have been probing into...thanx to milan kundera and his work..!

Ah! I love coffee. Why did Swathi have to choose this moment to make filter coffee!!!!!! the smell is addictive for me. now i know why i love it. i crave for it at times...and at this moment i cant but hold my breath as a whiff of it reaches me across my room...wow!!! i know why i love it i do...!!

but it is not the only thing i have...i have to be honest...in my own way...i have to may be heed to farzan's words...in my own way...maybe i will...is it so much about my own way again...?? may be not...but i have convinced myself...

can it be happening to me...can i be questioning my own thought to an extent that i am unsure of every belief i have had...have i actually had any belief... has it been just about an identity so far...has it been imitation to form a self or has it been a self which is nothing but replicated in various forms...!!!

can a book really make u think so much...!!! do words really have that power...???

and i a "book lover" as i presumed says this...!!!

i just looked on and on...!!!!

the hug was a story of the past.
it had washed away the fears i had lived in, there were things i had long forgotten. the love burst in a frenzy as the pixels knit themselves to a form. my heart bled with the colour of life.
i held death with awe as he had once conveyed to me.
the thought of a goodbye smaller than the thought of meeting again.
he believed in the word being truer than the self and my destiny was to use them to believe my own.
a day would not have passed with a happy smile, a day gone by with the thought of pain. up, up and away it went; flying like a kite all the way.
the strings attached were severed. i knew not whom to please. my eyes were sore from crying. i waited but in vain. a plant grew under my care. i nurtured it like my own flesh. i hurt it all the same.
as i would have my flesh. i shed blood. it poured out of my eyes. the colour seemed darkened by my thoughts.
he invited me over but my thoughts discarded his vigil. always wanting to look back and change my fate...! knowing not that my luck was beheld by those whom i had ignored.
four hearts met to fill the gap left by one. my life was a lucky cauldron, filled to the brim with memories of love. a pint of devotion dipped in the vial of happiness. solitude my hope and togetherness my desire. the lava of my spirit surging. the nucleons now met.
the hug was no more a story of the past.

a day in the RAIN

a day in the rain, I wet my hair.
a day in the rain, I lost a tear.
a day in the rain, I lost my way.
a day in the rain, my umbrella flew away.

a day in the rain, I wept alone.
a day in the rain, I missed home.
a day in the rain, I fell asleep.
a day in the rain, my stick withdrew.

a day in the rain, I walked away.
a day in the rain, my footsteps tumble.
a day in the rain, I was cold.
a day in the rain, the clouds part.

"the lilies"

an early morning wake up call...
the smell of lilies fill the room
the lilies though not yet in full bloom.

half open eyes and a tilted neck,
trying to spy on the yellow buds;
the green against the blue wall.

a smile curled the dry matte lips,
slowly the smoke screens diverge
a leap within, and out of bed.

saying:
"Happy Mother's Day!!"

Coppice of demise.

A stitch of pain streaked down her curve.
A groan failed to escape her dead lips.
She had stepped into the coppice of demise;
that of truth, that if pain,
that not of love
but, more so of loss and  of game.

The dice showed a seven.

A miracle of times unknown.
A clandestine sword hung down her throat.
The nexus held by the last bit.
The snap but a twinkling away.
Light years were then a myth.