Here she comes
tiptoeing on the dry land
leaving the warm comfort
of dark clouds
engulfing all other odors
filling the air
with its sweet muddy scent.
The clouds roar
in pain of separation.
Striking lightning
and thunder on nature.
The soaked earth
bears their wrath
without a flinch.
tiny big droplets
in its bosom.
She looks up
at her sad lover,
with a wry smile,
on her moon face.
As if,
concealing some
last secret,
to him.
The earth consoles her,
with a warm hug,
and wise words,
Sometimes to reach
the zenith
you need to pass
through the hell.

PS: The city has been showered with its first rain of the season, subsiding the scorching heat of the summer. And I couldn’t resist my temptation to roll down my words on the piece of parchment.


The Crossover

Sneaking from behind,
the fallen branches,
I saw a beautiful golden deer.
Standing on the other side,
of the old wooden bridge.
A deja-vu moment,
luring me to fall,
in the trap,
of pursuing the stag.
I followed,
in haze,
The deer scent.
The walk,
to heaven,
is what I felt.
Holding the beam,
I crossed,
to the other side.

The other side

I lost myself,
in the beauty,
of that rare deer.
The time,
passed by,
And I heard my name,
from the other side,
I knew,
someone was looking,
for me,
on the other side.
The charm got broken,
when I lifted my eyes,
the deer was gone.
I stood there,
at this side.
I tried turning back,
but an unknown force,
kept me,
glued to the place.
One more time,
I heard my name,
from the other side.
I knew,
I have to go back,
to that side.
With heavy feet,
I dragged my limp body,
to the bridge.
But the walk,
wasn’t the same.
The bridge,
was tangled in algae,
I slip and slip,
bruising my dampen body.
Tell me,
Oh, deer,
How on earth,
do I cross,
from this side,
of dreamy heaven,
to the other side,
of real life.
How do,
I do,
this crossover.


Datsuzoku is a Japanese origin word which means escape from daily routine or monotony of life. You can read more about this word here.
Yesterday while browsing through my social networking sites I came upon this word, and it struck me. As you might have noticed from my recent posts that I am not doing so well emotionally, a bit of low phase where I feel like I am drowning in the sea of my emotions. But what choice do we have other than keep swimming until we reach the deck. To break this chain of monotony, I have decided to do one new thing each day. The motive is to find happiness and light within.

As Pablo Neruda said in his poem:
“Let’s try and avoid death in small doses,
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing. “

Here I was breaking my morning routine of eating cereal in breakfast. Instead, I decided to go and fetch Upama from a street shop. I have tasted it once before from this same shop, and I loved it then, but every time I landed up at that shop to get it, somehow I always returned empty handed. So today, I decided to go way before the time. And in fact, I was so before the time that the cook was still doing the preparation. I kept watching him while he cooked, and I realized that it’s so long that I haven’t seen anyone prepare food before me. When I was a kid, I used to sit on the kitchen slab while my mother used to cook food. I loved watching her cook, and I feel that’s how my subconscious mind grasped the gist of cooking. There is something very therapeutic about the act of cooking, you just may be the watcher, but somehow it calms you down. I was so immersed in watching him cook that I didn’t even realize how long I was standing there until someone poked me. In fifteen minutes it was ready to go into my tummy. I got it packed and ate at my office desk. Each bite that I took got melted in my mouth, giving me the joy that only good food can provide. Adding to this benefit of a scrumptious meal, I got to know the secret ingredient of this man’s recipe. As they say, each day brings something new with it. Monotony is not all bad, but sometimes it can become a vicious cycle and there comes the need to break it.

Quoting Simone Weil :
“Monotony is the most beautiful or the most atrocious thing. The most beautiful if it is a reflection of eternity–the most atrocious if it is the sign of unvarying perpetuity. It is time surpassed or time sterilized.”

PS: Happy Midweek guys, the weekend is almost here so cheer up 😀

March Madness

March you made me feel seventeen again.
The month started with the trepidation of upcoming days,
Just like then where I feared about my last exams of school life,
This time the fear was different, but the jitters were the same,
I was seventeen again.
This March had tears too,
Just like then where I cried for the end of my school life.
The melody of life was jumbled up, and the future looked blurred,
I felt like a fool for being seventeen again.

I was reading Harry Potter then too,
And I read Harry Potter in this March also,
Cause I was reliving my seventeenth year unbeknownst to myself.

I was trying hard to conceal the darkness inside me
Shoving away the lurking shadows in the boxes of my concealed past.

This March I laughed a bit too, at silly things,
the funny cats and dog memes,

It was the night that brought with it, the stillness of my life.
I craved some moments to last forever,
Even though I knew there is nothing like forever,
But what can I say, after all, I was seventeen again.
The beauty of seventeen is, it has hope packed with layers of disappointment,
Whereas now, I need to search for light within.
This march I felt seventeen again,
With highs as high as hurricane high,
Lows as low as Mariana Trench.
The only difference,
Between then and now is,
The intensity of emotions,
The Mt Kilimanjaro of then became Mt Everest of now.
So this how my march begin,
and will end,
by being seventeen again.


I have this unknown feeling
rising inside my pit,
I know not,
whether its a person,
or a place,
that I constantly miss now.
But I have this feeling for long,
long enough,
to turn my inside,
upside down.
I know not,
how long will it last,
but I know,
that it’s tearing me apart.
This feeling,
takes me to dark places,
of my own heart,
breaking me into
a million pieces of mosaic art.
I wish at times,
I knew what,
this missing,
is all about,
but I know not,
except that,
this saudade,
tears me up,
From moments to moments.
Leaving my soul,
into two halves.

Saudade is used to explain the feeling of missing something or someone.
It is used to tell about something that you used to have (and liked) but don’t have anymore.
But literally, it goes deeper. Its a beautiful word of Portuguese origin, evokes a sense of loneliness and incompleteness. In a whole bunch of clumsy English words, Saudade means “the love that remains” after someone is gone. It’s the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It describes a deep nostalgic longing. It brings sad and happy feelings all at once;

Fading Memories

I recently read A Strangeness in My Mind by Orhan Pamuk. While I was reading the book, a strange feeling struck me hard inside my gut. I always boast about having an excellent memory, especially of people and places which hold special meaning to me. But it hit me that however good I may be, there will come a time that the memories I hold so dearly inside my heart right now will fade if I no longer share it with the person with whom I made those memories.

How do I reach this point, I will elaborate it now with the story of the book.
Mevlut is the protagonist of the novel, he is a boza seller(a Turkish drink), and he falls in love with a girl whom he met at his cousin’s wedding. The only thing that struck him hard about the girl was her big deep beautiful black eyes. He starts writing love letters to this girl and keep writing to her for the next three years during his military period. One day he realizes that if he wants to marry this girl he needs to elope with her, so he makes a plan with his cousin for this elopement. The idea is to pick up the girl from the garden at night and then walk towards some distance where his cousin has parked his van. He holds the girl’s hand and walks towards the parked car without seeing her face. And when he sees the face inside the vehicle, it hits him that she is not the same girl to whom he has been writing the letters. Now that they have made the mistake of running together, he accepts fate and marries the girl. And when he meets the girl Samiha( to whom he has fallen in love), in his marriage reception, he didn’t even recognize her.

Is this true that time makes us forget all the people whom we have lost to fate and destiny? Is it true that one day I will not recognize the person who meant so many things to me at some point in time? And suddenly I had this thought in my mind, which I wrote on my Instagram page too.

I have a fear that I will lose the tiny threads of my memories someday, like I will not able to recall some people who mattered to me at some point of time, I will forget the moments I have spent with them, the small talks we had or their faces, I have started losing some of them already. I fear I will lose more of it if I don’t store it somewhere. Hence I feel the need to write about all those trivial things that matter to me, the memories that impacted me as a person. Do you ever fear losing people or moments from your memory?”

Some people replied saying that they too have this fear of losing fragments of themselves. Hence they also write memoirs or write fiction to hold parts or pieces of their memories of people, who have long gone from their life but left them as a changed person. I feel a bit relieved now that there are people like me who hold their memories as close as me and they too store them in their words in open or in secret diaries or journals. And may be I am also fading or have faded from the memories of the people for whom I meant something at some point of time. Then I wrote these last lines for them.

“There will come a day, where you will need to clear the dust from your memories in order to catch the fading fragments of me.”