why not

Heard her voice
Drowned in melancholy and seclusion
Thought she would and should be happy after all
Then why ….why not

I long for her happiness …..
I long for her peace…..

hold on

Mosaic of emotions
Scared, blemished, cryptic
Veiled in the little corner of my flickering mind
Want to hold them as long as I can…before they wreck
My artificially sweetened life….
Something inside seems bursting out……….hold on…

home

home..
wonder where is it......
in the quaint old town ....were my folks live and love
or in this mad house were i run after and from my facets....
amongst old deodars , mango trees and ashokas,.....
or between dust ,cement and rotten grass
150 crazy cacti..park double the size of my nest.
or 150 books ....and my mattress....
do i luv the old Victorian high ceilings with roshan dans ...
or the new space crunched rooms....and balcony
the chai,,,,newspaper and jenny
or slim milk....worldspace and my bai......
with my folks ...who are a generation ,,,,ahead....
or with my loneliness....

hmm

hmm
havent written for quite some time...
i guess i am numb
there is pain but i cant feel the pinch
there is joy but i can feel the tickle...
there is hope but no positivity
there is light but its too dark to see it
i have gone through the highest high and swimmed through the lowest low
right now....i guess i am in search
in search of well another new me
this time around....a lill less of everything////
gud night god bless

newyork angel

An almost stranger from the past waiting

An unfamiliar, unexplainable anxiety which was shadowed by the steeping excitement

Busy hotel lobby bursting with rain drenched travelers and I try and read every face which seems pretty and her

And their i see her scanning every face to find a reflection of me...

She stands pretty and tall on the steps with her oh I am so tired look

We walk across to the café, its raining thoughts, perspectives, emotions, illusions, and madness

Corner café at a busy Manhattan street, Italian food , goo goo dolls in the background….

We share a little that we had in common, the weak stitch from the past and little which was unknown, unspoken …stitching us together forever or so it seemed

Her views, her perspectives, she was like my alter ego

The best lunch in the past 12 months and the happiest entry in this blog

I am disillusioned

Buried in mystification

Crossing paths with inconsequentiality

It looks trivial….shallow…..

Where is….what I am looking for……

What was once mine ,eternally …

Have I lost it….are am I lost…..

Perspectives seem unstable

Sunday

Solitary Sunday

Wet eyes

Heavy breath

Morbid visions

Dark shadows

Numbness

An atheist prays

Dying optimism

Birth of a cynic

Desperate affection

Contemptuous imagination

Scornful dreams

Self mocking

Forced acceptance

In that order