When We Talk

Like, how icy fingers and sweet fatigue
We wake up with
(Did it rain in our dreams?)
Linger at our memories edge.
You look outside the window and the leaves are wet, the city cold.

Like, how fragrance of cut-grass
We walk past by
On a hot summer day
Cannot be remembered again.
The breeze shifts, and now brings you stories of crowded, hot towns.

Raining Rays

In the bus, a girl turned her head, the sunlight caught her nose-ring and made her the dazzling beauty in the whole world at that moment.

The little boy stood barefoot, his sandals nearby, his hands held in a prayer. He was facing the temple on the other side of the road, the sun beating down mercilessly.

Under the dim streetlight, a passerby whispered a long sentence. Sometimes not knowing the language is a boon.

Someone paced through the crowded cafe, cellphone to the ear, oblivious to the noise. He had a swimmer's body.

There is an S-curve in the lawn. A leading-line on the third floor towards the evening sun, a perfect-golden-red.

The neighbour's 2-year old imitated my 'haeyyy'. Her mother was wearing pearl drop earrings.

Time Travel

It is amazing how one road leads to another, and our hearts grow heavy with all the richness we go through, over the years.

Then, a blast from the past takes you back to a point in time, maybe, to where you are waiting for the bus, and the neighbourhood handsome who had lent you his books, asks you about your exams and his voice materializes real slowly in your brain and you are thinking 'WHEN was my exams?!'; it is fun, really, this blast to the past.

But it is fazing, when the person you encounter there, the real you, is completely different from the one you remember yourself to be then. You realize then that you have twisted your own story over time. You remember with passion not a hated past.

You remember yourself to be in good times, and sometimes it is all that matters.

Lovers Entwine

A glimpse of monsoon.

Journey On!

Travels add multiple dimensions to our personalities. Go places.

Vicious Cycle

Worlds are always this. Rebuild.

Hats Off To Life's Journeys!

I love journeys by trains. I love railway stations. I love the anticipation, the sound of numerous shuffling feet as the head of the train approaches the station I am waiting at, the (always) cold bars on the windows, the waving goodbyes.

My overnight journeys home are always cherished. The train reaches my station only at 6 am. However, I will be awake by 4:30 am, to catch lives waking up all along the way.
* The early morning breeze - intoxicating and in my hair!
* The green fields, cold, with morning dew
* The vehicles waiting at railway crossings, with their beaming eyes
* The sun rising slowly, casting long golden lines on trees and thatched roofs
* The newspaper boys and tea-coffee boys in the train


My best train moment was when I went to see-off my brother once. I was leaving the weekend after that and we wouldn't be seeing each other for another 2 years. After we found his seat, I put on my sister-cloak and asked him not to budge.
I walked back along the train, sad and wanting to hug him again. I was tempted to look back and when I did, there he was at the door, peering out. We have never waved so crazily like the way we did that night, oblivious to everyone in the whole wide world.

Do you have a train-moment to share?

Moss Man

City Lights

What is it about new cities that makes my heart sing? Sitting in an auto-rickshaw next to my best friend's girl, I sent my mind out to find.

The whirlwind and the hum, the fragrance of exotic food that I am yet to taste, the narrow alleys, the wide crowded roads, the endless hawkers, the children's parks...

I love the fact that this city doesn't know me. I stay only long enough to catch a glimpse and begin liking this city.

I am reminded of Cavafy's City. (Read one version here.) What had the poet wanted us to know?

My India

There are infinite moments like these, when you are hit by lightning and you stop, even as the universe continues to spin. Such a bolt took me to exotic sights, here in Chennai. I was on a re-discover-my-India journey.

One step inside VTI (Victoria Technical Institute on Anna Salai) and I felt the world around me transform. The arts and crafts centre had redefined beauty. Somewhere, someone, in his/her own way, was a Howard Roark.

On the way home, I came across artists painting stories of a bygone era on the Cosmopolitan Club's wall. I am humbled by their existence.

A wonderful Saturday!

A Long Journey

There are only a few places in my heart where my journeys can take me. I wonder how it is that we limit our souls - even when it is not our doing; how we open our eyes to the sunshine and yet feel so empty.

The road to oneself is the greatest distance one needs to traverse.
An unbearable distance of time when one is stuck with oneself.

Count Your Blessings

Lost ground has been regained. Battles are still being fought. Breathe.
What place would I want to open my eyes to? The rain forests of Africa. Afghanistan. Cambodia?

There are infinite paths to freedom. There are infinite borders to cross. Have a heart. Hold a hand. Be held. Guide another. Breathe. Open eyes. Open mind.
Echoing my friend Dale's words - Life is good, after all.