i loved u since september

i know it all started suddenly and i know we rushed in ...
i know i made mistakes and did the wrongs in the very beginning...

i cant forget the coldplays...the wines and the dance...
getting late , making excuses and innumerable promises
those months i was in some kinda trance...

do u remember the night at blues...when u said it all...
it still sounds as if it was just yesterday..

the morning drives to office...the sun on ur face..
and the sparkle in ur eyes which grew with every passing day

how i hated to part and how i wanted u to be their every single day
couldn't change it at all..just that now i want u every split second

u bought me love when i had started hating the very word..
u held on to me when the winds from past tried to blew my life...

the sunday lunches, the tc nights and the jams at dj's ...
dont remember the life before u and cant think of one without u...

the trips to the jungle ,the urge to fight the world..
wish it was still around...wish u were still around...

i know u might never read this..
even if u read ,,,u might not believe this..

i am in love with u ....since i remember...
i have fallen in love with u every single day since that September

Sometimes the where becomes more predominant then the what….
When the where is the only constant and what becomes variable…

Though the what will always be more defining then the where….
I thought of writing of the where rather then the what…

Strange but my last three life changing what’s happened at the same were…

Goa and me have established some sort of a karmic connection.


Walked on the beach with some one and with no one

Danced in the water in the day and in the night

Counted the stars and the rain drops

Saw the sun sets and the depressions

Saw the sun rises and the ray of hopes

Got drunk on port wine and life

Ate omelets and goan pork sausages

Read Che and Morrison

Rode in to the dawn and walked in to darkness

Smoked with nudists and the layered

Heard everyone and myself

The dead me , the dying me , the young ,me and the newborn me danced to the trance…

Questioned god and his very existence

Got convinced and let go

Luved ,hated , felt , shaired , caught , met ,,,life here …

self reflection and shit

you know how it is to go through your phone book every evening....
wondering whom to call ....
hoping some one will listen...will agree to go out for dinner or may be a harmless coffee...
wanting to spend time with someone ...anyone ...not alone it is killing me now...(Jesus this is desperation)

went through my phonebook yet again....wondered .....called but well how lucky could i get,,,,
another lonely evening,,,,decided not to get bogged down,,,,ordered my pepperoni pizza...went for a shot drive,,,,,grabbed a frappe....smoked 3 ...tripped sitting in front of ccd...watchin ....luvin hating,,,,ppl moving around....and guess what Beatles played live for me...

the problem is that i am experiencing this for the first time in my lifetime...,never felt so lonely...so helpless...guess i have chosen this for me,,,,its like getting to know the real me...self reflection and shit, or rather forced self reflection..iam not exactly enjoying it...but ya its different then whateve i have been doing...ok enough iam loosing the plot,,,

this aint me

just read all what i wrote..and shit i realised what a deppresed fuck i am..
the reality is i am an extreme optimist.
used to be really happy as well..
wonder what happned...
i think its just that i write when i am sad..
is it like that allways...
we become more expressive when we are sad....
or is that there are a lot of thoes fogies around when ur happy...
well i guess need to start writing when i am happy ....cause i hate this shit...

sunday morning

Sunday mornings….start with dizziness….its like a struggle
a struggle to stay in the bed…asleep
a struggle to complete my dreams from the week gone
a struggle to interpret what I couldn’t the day before
a struggle to see the signs I couldn’t see
a struggle to read the love in her eyes
a struggle to hear deceit in her voice
a struggle to search nothing of everything and everything of nothing hidden in the corners of my struggling soul

Its like a collating a jigsaw.
to view my ghosts,
to view my disturbed soul….
to view the one who let go
to view who didn’t
to view those I left behind
and those who did that to me..


And then the dizziness gives way to fear

the fear of what has gone wrong going wrong again
the fear of the blasts from the past
the fear of listening the screams from the past
the fear of voices so cold ,cutting through me again
the fear of missing the bus again and yet again
the fear to loose her and everyone yet again


Cant take no more…the light pierces me deep down…
How I used to love my Sunday mornings …well not anymore..dono why…

Well still love one thing about my Sunday…my masala chai…
Life is not that bad…or it is…dono…fuck it ,,tea is great though..

the biker me in goa.....

with wind hitting on my face .........metallica jarring in my ears here i am on the road again here i am upon the stage ...turn the page....every day i took this ride on my not so overwhelming 180 cc ....from parvorim to brittos ,,,and hell i luved it....

the 20 minute ride through green pastures that define green ....churches that defy time and religion....was not just a ride but a new journey ...a new journey every day...it was me and the one within me....a series of questions ,,,,a number of confessions,,,,,couple of answers ....and a single reality.

reality bytes ....but hell it sustains itself....its the sole truth....we are born alone ...well most of us...and die alone ...all of us....and surprisingly we live alone most of our life's,,,,,at least i do...or i am forced to....

but i think the only time i have been glad to be alone is during these bike rides....no one to talk...no one to pasture....no one to crib,,,,no one to care for....no one to judge.....no one to betray ,,,,...its the good old me,,,,,my ride.....who only asks for a lill over 50 bucks for 3 km....and my music....

probably the only reasons ill go back to goa alone would be these journeys....the self reflective....self abusing.,,,,self destructive....self confiding....self confessing....bike rides which go down my memory lanes as iconic journeys....

she

she thinks too much yet she reaches no conclusion
she seeks reality yet love living in this illusion

she is high on life and through all she rows
she is a sucker for love and that shows

she cries ,she laughs ,she sulks ,she snaps
she cribs , she shouts , she loves ,she taps

she is cheek , she is voguish , shes loves bling
she is casual ,shes ghetto , shes always the in thing

she surprises me amazes me all at the same time
she is dreamer shes a philosopher of of some kind

she nudges ,she judges , she critiques ,she share
she lights , she fights ,she bites but she cares

she designs , she redefines and she regenerates
she is flawless , shes raw and is carved to create

she is giving ,shes forgiving and hell she dares
to forget ,to experiment , to restart ,shes always there

she found love , she lost love and fuck she doesn't care
she is strong , she is phenomenal and god dam rare.

her day is dreamy and night is divine
her life is enviable but she knows to draw her line.

her eyes are dreamy brown and her mane shiny black
her hands are pretty and feet can make me a jack

she loves to be loved and hates to be hated
she waits to get for all that she waited

i can keep on writing for i know her so
ill can never hold her but just cant let her go

she will look around ,find love and wedding bells she will hear
if not , not to worry ,ill always be there..........