Only a matter of time.

Until I fall too.


I have traveled a long way. But I'm still where I began.

To 7 hours n a moonlit sky...

She had a seven hour journey up ahead. Not the routine ones. Not those with laptop & iPods for company. They were there too; uncared for this time.. She preferred her new found acquaintances - apprehension, excitement & love.

She sat there on the seat longing for an arm that could support more than just her weight. She stared on at the immatures up ahead working on a kiss in the moonlit sky. She looked away briefly at the window. Blushed at her own reflection. Stretched a bit and shrunk back in her seat. Coiled. Curved. Expectant & dreamy.

Even her watch felt overworked today for the number of times he had been looked at. He could help very little for 'day light savings' kept her waiting an extra hour.

The wait was probably worth it. For afterall she was heading back home.

To home
Where her heart belongs
To dad
With arms wide open
To Him
Who never was
To herself
Who always will be!

Well yes!
She did fall in love.
Too soon.

With herself for a change.

Cold Gray Mornings

They say that there is light up ahead.... May be there is too little to be seen. Or may be... Am just blind.

Yes. I woke up to yet another cold and gray morning. I am left with empty visions of a world where silent whisperers scream into thin air. I suffer from memories of a time, so long ago. I miss simplicity. I fear those eyes... scornful eyes - dripping with contempt and disdain. I long for warmth. I run and hide behind invisible walls. I faint and fall off to wake up briefly before I hit the ground. Again.. my eyes open to a cold and gray morning.

Letting Go...

Its hard enough to remember things that you miss a lot.

I just realized its harder when you miss things you don't remember anymore.

... of neon lights and lonely streets


I know I want to write more than this title.

I know it every morning, when I wake up before the sun does. I say it to myself as I win over my alarm clock. I know it while I walk to work. I know it while I wait for my cup of cappuccino. I know it while I reply to one mail after another. I recall it while the coin trickles down the vending machine.

I see it in so many eyes. I feel it within.
This is the story... of neon lights and lonely streets.

Let Go

Another sad song. Another fiction. Inspired by 3 doors down.

Someday you would want to remember me
And that day I would never know
Seems like, these are mere stories
Oh, let it be, for I don wanna know.

Night and day, for all these years…now
I spent my life for you.
In this world there is real and make believe
Where do you want to be?

I love you but I don know who I am
I have lost my face - space; and all I ever had
I love you, but I don know who I am
So let me go. Let me go.

No one knows what I go through
No, no please don’t claim you do.
Fearless smiles with no questioning
Are all I ever asked you for…

Night and day, for all these years…now
I spent my life for you.
In this world there is real and make believe
Where do you want to be?

I love you but I don know who I am
I have lost my face - space; and all I ever had
I love you, but I don know who I am
So let me go. Just Let me go.

Let me go.

And no matter how hard I try
There’s lil to do, and lot to hide
I know - you know
When all the pieces fall apart
And you look at me standing out

You know… you know you jus ought to let me go.

Shadows in doubt

The entire lane was laid with fallen flowers. Crushed, desolate and crowded together.

I loved those flowers, in petals of white and pink. Or may be I loved it so much because I can still remember the crisp sound of our shy footsteps on them. While the white of the petals shone bright on his face, and the pink - on my cheeks we walked that very path, every evening of every spring.

I also remember that ‘certain’ period, when I was far from young and innocent. But I loved the game of pretext. I lived like a kid. Screamed into the sky… walked backwards… whispered in his ears – half lies and full truth.

Not to forget, the stories we made pointing to our lean shadows on the long winding road. How I blushed at the shadows inching closer… How I grew out of the girl I no longer was into a woman I so longed to be. So many secrets, so many more images…!

.......of mere flowers, shadows and a love that never was.

The lane is still laid with fallen flowers, I hear......Crushed, desolate and wet with tears.

To Aditya

They say, you can tell from the person’s eye if he/she is lying or not. What do I tell from this one? Read on.

Promises have always been on the list of all things with faint belief. More often than not, they just serve as some fancy seasoning on top of a not so good dish. When life remains simple, and thoughts stagnate atop more thoughts, there is little to do and the brain enjoys the inertness around – you can surely bet there is a rude awakening that lies ahead. This is one such episode, a very recent one at that.

I was at the local school, doing some routine blind reading classes. I usually handle science for class 3 but this time it was spoken English for Aditya and Dharini. I went through their lessons to brief myself about what has been covered in the past and I realized that Aditya had an incomplete homework. When asked ‘why?’ all he said was that he was sorry.

Pissed as I was, I was bent upon getting the reason out. Having asked him around 10 times already, I gave up. I took a moment’s deep breath. Let out all the heat and told Aditya (gripping him firmly by his wrist) “Promise, that you will finish it by next week!”

Aditya kept silent.


He kept silent again. I had given up a second time by then.

Just as I began to loosen my grip around his arm, and was going to let him go – he held mine. Looked faintly in my direction…. Blinked a couple of times with uneasiness and then with a sort of conviction I haven’t seen in even physically able people – he said to me

“Why do you want a promise when I am telling you the truth? Does honesty require re-enforcement? I will finish it. Please trust me. “

Small truth.
Big lessons.

A lil too short

There are so many things I wish to write about.

I could write about the silly stories one makes up in the wee hours of the morning, to break the monotony of silence.

Or may be about the tiny moment you want to steal between elevator levels to give an incomplete hug.

About sitting on the plane and looking into the infinite sky..

About driving real fast on your new car with the perfect gang of friends and let the loud music communicate.

About jamming sessions, about self tried recipes, about night outs, about unfinished books, power cuts and what not.

BUT no. I won’t.
I’ll let this empty space do the talking. For in my mind, it is in its most beautiful form,

Familiar Strangers

‘My Life is just a slow train Crawling up a hill’

Its just a short and simple equation, this thing that we call life. Isn’t it? Endless nights after countless mornings, all I do is walk around and observe. I tend to believe am the only one observing. But am being watched too. By who? or Why? Doesn’t really matter anymore. In a land of strangers, we are all alone together. The people I see, the eyes I meet, the voice I hear, the smiles that console; are not necessarily from people I’ve known for long. It just comes from the ones I see everyday. Most times I don’t even know their names. But we wait together for a common cause. At the bus stop. At the hotel counter. At ATMs. At a million other places.

It’s a comforting experience. The familiar face, and the expected smile.
Familiar Strangers.

Scenes from a Memory

Sometimes I wish I could just flip through the pages of my life. Skip through the ones bookmarked by tears and regrets. Relive moments when random co incidences cause a smile or two. I wished again. Today.

I used to like feeling unique. I liked to race with the rain line, I still like to cry when no one’s watching. I secretly enjoy the rhythm in everything around me.. like when the old lady walks to the beat on my ear plugs.

Oh! That reminds me. I also like times when am no different from the girl next door. The man with the head phones; the loner making a fashion statement !?!

Ah! How strangely similar we all are!

Misused mistakes.
Reluctant panic.
Convenient silence.


Last Night upon the stair,
I saw a man who wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there again today,
Oh! I wish to God he’d go away!

As a kid, there was plenty of innocence left for me to nurture. The big outside world with its people fighting to get a life was strangely fascinating. But little did I know, that more they grab of life, more are the pieces they lose of themselves. And with time I began to look at life a lot differently. My impressions were constantly molded by what I saw happen around me and in a way I grew from outside of it. Emotions made decisions, wants lost to practicality, and power redefined integrity.

My learning from all of this was a simple truth.

After a game, the king and the pawn are back inside the same box

"When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence" - Ansel Adams

In this space you will find images and words. It is upto you to weave 'em together and see what I see.