saying without words

saying without words (reprise)

Flying moments of a dying day

another something left behind forever

this bridge across forever

I am still looking for the answers

I am still searching for the key

Sometimes I wonder, if only,for days I could wander

I am on this road; curvy, broken, muddy, bending over this rugged mountain on a cool dusky evening; the last strands of orange in the sky are telling me that the sun is fast loosing its struggle to stay afloat in the vast open ocean of sky.

I am on this bend on the road, from where I can see the dirty mud stream a few hundred meters below, beyond where the root of the mountain is; the orange light from the struggling sun, the reddish brown color of the soil and the dark brown gray rocks.

I am on this strange plane; where conscious and unconscious mingle; where the road to lucidity meanders into a swamp of dreams; where sometimes one finds a few drops of solace for the thirsty soul.

I am on this unknown latitude; where topography alone is not strange; where thirst is every where around.

Staring blank into these moments, endless only if they would be. The darkness of the night seems to grow on me slow; like weed crawling slowly in the blood.

Lost I turn around and march, rev up the engine and head back to life.


(seen on the way to heaven)

Not all those who wander are lost

How often can you get a time in your life, when there is no objective for thoughts, no end in mind, no pressing depressions and more importantly you kind off relish such a period.

Such periods come seldom in one's life. these days I am in this perfect week or so to vegetate. I dont even need to think about any specifics, so I have conciously let go of my worry hat and future mongering. Result is that I am strolling at leisure through the labyrinths of what ever my sub concious pops into my mind.

I am completely enjoying it.

I have thought about my aspirations(mostly sky high in every aspect). But this is more of a time when I am tending to kind off come up with a score board of my present vis a vis my aspirations.

Needless to say, that the score is pathetic the statistics would have almost depressed me at most times, but that is where this period is so special. I dont really seem to take to heart anything, I am levitating, knowing the reality but neverthless not getting bogged down by it.

I am still not even close to contentment,but still I am not worried, guess it is in simple language called maturity? but you would understand my wonder, if you knew how thoroughly immature I am always at managing my aspirations.

But all this seeming stagnation in my movement towards my aspirations, hardly seem to bring the usual bout of restless depression.

May be I am just getting old and more and more reconciled to this stagnation, but the moment this thought comes in my mind, I know its incorrect, because I havent reconciled or given up at all. So what should I attribute my behavior too?

I think it is maturity; but that word itself terrifies me, 'cause hundreds of times I have been told I am immature by people who dont understand my aspirations. So to say that I am maturing is to in effect acquiesce to the fact that my aspirations are all anyways unrealistic. Which again is such an incorrect inference, that I almost typed incorrect in capital letters.

SO this is the quandry I am in, wonder wonder and wonder what is it that has changed in me as a person, something has for sure. But I cant really put a finger on it yet.

If you don't know where you are going, any road will take you there.

-----Soul beetle----

In what can only best be described, as a chance meeting; I ran into my soul beetle yesterday.

The doleful creature expectedly was flying drunk and numb around, I almost had to restrain my tongue from shouting; incarcerate that bug for drunken flying. But then logic got the better of me, after all in this dog eat dog world there ain't much chance of the air being crowded with soul beetles.

It happens between us, each time we have these chance encounters, we indulge in a lot of soul talk, about many things; destiny and karma; decadence and nirvana; and many more of these seemingly mystical 'things/words/concepts' we get to hear every now and then. Somehow each of these meeting's typically end on a mutually abusive and explicitly sarcastic note. Each accusing the other of 'pontification' or 'selling out'.

If I was Cinderella and this life was under that before midnight spell, me and my soul beetle might just have cohabited in peace.

---Questions---

What defines a man and the myriad thoughts, dreams and fantasies that our heart and mind conjure?
How do you put in words, these quintessential, albeit disparate longings that this heart is perpetually plagued with?
What do I call these seasons of hope interspersed with autumns of despair?
How do I define the ' search', the one that's always there like a subtle background color on my life's canvas?
Where do I head to, what do I turn to, from the crossroad?
Deliverance, is it you I seek?
Contentment, unto where shalt I pursue you?

Questions, profound and abstruse, hang in this very air I breathe.

adding sunshine

Something just made me smile and wonder, if I am actually just a sulking, morose human trying to disguise my blatant pessimism as a profound take on life and behaving (rather writing) as if I have seen it all and been there before them all.

Life is a lesson we all claim to learn but never really even begin to learn, I know I am pretentious at times, pretentious and ostentatious about my cynicism for life :)
but amidst all the tall words and 'I give two hoots about' attitude to life , is actually a very simple man, who just seeks contentment of heart and mind.

And the day I find it, the pinks and yellows shall blossom in my writing, after all my writing definitely does come straight from my heart ;)

rantings on a looney afternoon

I am looking for something to believe in
the gods?
the occult?
the philosophers?
the preachers?
me?
guess I need a new something to believe in


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Saw the dream yesterday again
the dream i used to see awake
came back in sleep
Saw the angel
in all its glory
and saw the beast that beat the angel
the bruised angel shall never tread
the path again
the beast will wait
with watery eyes on the path
never would this world comprehend
there were two loves
one angelic and perfect
the other beastic and cruel
but both were loves nevertheless


------------------------------------------------------------------------
can i touch it
i wonder
can it feel my touch
i wonder
is there a way to reach the unreachable
is there a way to cross the chasm between
oh dreams, re-enforce my helplessness
oh dreams, re-kindle my rancor
oh dreams, re-wind the same old dream
why do i dream so many dreams

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if only life could be lived the way you want
i would have long renounced everything
and got lost searching for myself
in some far away land
i wish there was peace
i wish i was content
i wish i was a saint
i wish i was lucky
i wish i was a savant
i wish i was a stoic
i wish i was heartless
i wish..

......__.......

Time flies away, it was almost 15 months ago that I started to scribble down my thoughts, it was a means to let out a lot of things that till then had been confined within and also it was a certain 'growing up' I observed in my own thoughts and feelings, I felt at ease with myself, was finally not expecting/judging/questioning myself endlessly.
That I feel was an outcome of me getting drawn more and more into nature and its beauty. I suddenly found that while I was roaming alone somewhere, instead of feeling alone or morose, an inner me was feeling joyous, thoughtful and relaxed. This I guess triggered me to write, after a few months of sribbling on paper, I was afraid that all the things I was thinking , feeling and trying to put into words would get lost with time. So the next thing was to put up a blog and transfer my thoughts here, however still the blog was more of a personal diary, out of bounds for anyone, not to be shared, not to be discussed. Over the last year, every once in a while I wrote something or the other here.
Now, as I read my own posts, I am touched just by knowing and being reminded of what I felt at a particular moment an year ago in my life. Needless to say it also reminds of physical things that triggered the thoughts in the first place.
This blog shall remain personal always, but ya I think I would share it with some now, people who know me well and would not judge or form opinions about it, because that is the whole objective of this blog, a personal scrap board of thoughts, neither to be judged nor to be made fun of, neither a life's story nor a frustration release valve, neither reflecting actual incidences nor factual in any way.Its just imagination and feelings at play, as sudden and experiential as say a sudden breeze, when you are basking in the yellow sun on a cold winter morning.

warm sparkle

Amidst the mediocrity of everyday life, there are some people who so touch you by an un-obvious sparkle that for a few moments as you bask in the brilliance of their light; the beauty of life itself becomes apparent. Even if for a moment, but the glimpse of this beauty, converts one into a believer.

Since this is such an effervescent experience, before we know, the traces of such moments disappear and only an after glow lingers.
Sometimes the aftermath of such an encounter/experience is complete despondence, a feeling of never being able to feel that warm sparkle again, of knowing that life is forever a drudgery and sometimes it is Utopian optimism, making us believe that in this maze of life, you can once again without warning encounter that warm sparkle, maybe in a different form, but again.

And so often, it is this mystery of life, these unknown possibilities, this experiential upliftment into a realm where you for once believe in the ultimate ethereal beauty of life, that is the ambrosia of our soul.

So is this warm sparkle really a person specific experience, to me the warm sparkle transcends individuals, it is a feeling which theoretically may be experienced upon meeting any person any time. Though in life as we know it, these warm sparkles happen precious few times, may be once, twice or may be never. May be it happened already, may be its around the corner, maybe its happening right now, this I guess is the eternal mystery and the edge of life.

even as the moonlight sleeps on the leaves of trees
and the languid wind caresses the dark night;
i am lost in the light of a warm sparkle
that comes through my memory;
the heart is blithe & the thoughts are warm
i marvel about this road of life
full of wonders and sights;
like a mystic in search of the unknown
as i walk down i know;
some where again i will find
on a turn unbeknownst ;
that warm sparkle again

time's i want to fly away

some evenings, as i twiddle my thumbs
in the yellow black cab
the sun, it takes a one last yawn
before settling to sleep in the sea of clouds
for a moment the world turns red and the wind picks up
and I want to spread my arms and fly away

years ago, when the train rumbled on in the coal black night
with me standing, on the door ajar
some times it would come, a lonely river
in midst of the grumble of bridge meeting its old friend train
the river it would smile on me, with moonlit eyes
in those moments of eternal peace
I wanted to spread my arms and fly away

Some nights alone
when I watch for stars
and a distant crooning rings in my ears
its gilmour wondering 'do they still meet there by the cut'
I just want to spread my arms and fly away

No.. not this time either

do i smile once more on your naivety my dream
or do i grimace at this melancholy

do i stare unblinking into the sun
or do i pretend its the moon instead

do i look into your eyes deep and accept how near yet how far
or do i just close my eyes and dream on

do i let myself feel the warmth of your presence
or do i let the cold of life make me shiver

all imaginary questions i know, my oasis
but you won't ever know how it feels
these endless years in the desert
only to find my oasis was just a mirage

confessions

even though in my waking hours I will always deny, I know I am ashamed of how old how soon I have become.
I hide , I lie  and I do it so many times , that the lie becomes a truth to me. Sweet lord, I wish a honest life I could lead, a truthful tale that I could tell , and not become a man who fears the image in his mirror. Alas I become the same each passing day.

saying without words

serenity..i saw you

..roads to nowhere lead to me

may be this time

this evening i felt the breeze
i saw the beauty of the setting sun
i saw the world in its orange light
i felt the warmth of my own true smile

i stood still and my heart orbited the distant moon
fluttering its wings & gliding into the greying blue sky

i saw myself beside the road
without a care for the rushing world
a glint in the eye and arms open wide
smiling back at me, for no reason or rhyme

i felt the moments come and stop
each second was a lifetimes worth
as the sky grew dark
i saw the sun moon and stars

frozen in time i fear the thaw
sure as winter follows the summer
so will these moments soon go by
like sand it slips from my very hand
can i not hold on to a single grain?

or maybe this time
oh maybe this time

ode to an oasis

This poison i drink
like sweet wine
a half promise
more than half sometimes
...stranger i thank your lonely glance

neither is this about finding nor is it about loosing, just a fragrant breeze in life. This oasis i stumble upon, as my parched eyes begin to droop from the weight of those infinite, endless, ravenous searches; across the horizon, for that far away dreamed of verdant land.
an ode i struggle to write for my beautiful oasis, for words they fail to describe the sight that beholds the vagabond's eye.
another crossroad in life, another bend on the road uphill, which makes me want to stay forever in its virginal warmth.

soak in the moments while they last
no desire, no despair, no longing, no greed
just the thirsty me & my serendipitous oasis

A close observation of my own reactions to people/situations has revealed that I am growing up, little by little every day.

another year bites the dust

Its that time of the year again, the time when the usual resolutions are to be made, the time when they roll the calender by one. Each year this time comes and then follows a long series of highs and lows, of laughs and sighs... and the new year simply seems to be a punctuation in this series of series. A punctuation mankind would like us to believe is a full stop(or rather an exclamation mark really, looking at the hype ) and then a fresh paragraph would begin. But is it really punctuation? I don't think so, in life's script there ain't any punctuations only an endless nothing, much like plotting a sinusoidal wave in vacuum. You can plot its one cycle or plot it to infinity, there will only be one pattern and endless repetition of that one pattern.
So stop celebrating new years, cause there ain't anything 'new' coming really, all you are doing is helping smart marketeers furtively pull out bills from your wallet, all in the name of this 'farcical new'!

tale about a tale

The last time I sat to write in the middle of the day was in the december of last year. Typically I always tend to do this when I am kind of flustered, not necessarily in a bad way though. Today, my heart seems to be shifting inside, one moment here the other there, happily chugging along, as if singing to a tune in its ears.
It is a good feeling, 'cause days like these for one, dont come to often do they?

Every emotion we experience seems to be a deja vu, events in life keep changing there faces but the feelings(which are a reaction to life's events)keep repeating. Aint then this life and each small thing that makes up this life actually just a circle, each time around the circle you see new things, but the underlying remains the same.
Life keeps coming in full circles in every aspect, together life is nothing but an endless ring of these circles, each at its own degree of completing its circle and in the process overlapping here and then there. In this complex labyrinth of rotating circles of all the spheres of ones life are we, lost somewhere trying to make sense of all that is coming in a moment and passing in a moment too. A moment passes and then its nowhere to be found again, all that is left behind is a tale.

Aint life itself a tale, we talk about experiences of past as if they are forever a part of our being, but somehow the only truth seems to be the effervescence of this life, a moment comes and goes and all that is left behind is a tale, nothing tangible. Nothing is a part of us, this life, my life, your life, everyones life is just a tale and progressively with each passing moment it will continue to be a tale.

The future is always only a second away from becoming a tale, and still we struggle, we plan, we strive for future, the present is going..going and ya becoming just a tale.
Oh how much i dream, i work, i plan ..when all this life is going to leave behind is a tale.

A blah question

What if I tell you, that I love you?

Would it break your heart, or make you furious?

when words can feel just right

sometimes the faucet of creativity is so switched off, that even though you feel like saying so much, the words and means to express the myriad emotions welling up inside is next to impossible. I sat down to write , but the flow of thoughts today is like being stuck in mumbai traffic, you are desperate to make progress but the entire surroundings are so chaotic that you hardly move an inch in an hour! today my mind seems to be in one such traffic jam of thoughts..
I have always found solace in others writings when my own are hard to come by..so i just start googling randomnly, trying to find some long forgotten musings i faintly remember having read at some point of time..well this one..i heard i guess long back..the song has got just the zing which appeals to me no matter how many, when and in what mood i listen to it..thats in a large part because of the guitar work and psychedelic feel this song carries..but neverthless what is a good tune without lyrics to match..

Last night your shadow fell upon my lonely room
I touched your golden hair and tasted your perfume
Your eyes were filled with love the way they used to be
Your gentle hand reached out to comfort me
Then came the dawn
And you were gone
You were gone, gone, gone
I had too much to dream last night
Too much to dream
I'm not ready to face the light
I had too much to dream
Last night

The room was empty as I staggered from my bed
I could not bear the image racing through my head
You were so real that I could feel your eagerness
And when you raised your lips for me to kiss
Came the dawn
And you were gone

Oh, too much to dream
Too much to dream last night

'too much to dream last night' what an awesome line..so singularly honest, funny and addictive.. all at the same time..

and then i stumble upon this absolute gem of artistic work..'raven'..edgar allen poe's pen pours out an imagery so profound, that i have always been able to 'see' a haggard man in a dimly lit room..struggling to keep sane and fighting the demons of his memories..a fight which is so full of paranoia and symbolism..that no lesser a soul than poe could hav put it into words..'never more'! the way this 'long' poem enfolds its story and you begin to see the darkness in which the narrator is caught.. that it almost leaves the feel of a cold hand on your heart when it ends by saying..

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

i had the opinion of lewis caroll being a writer of children fantasies, until i rediscovered an altogether different perspective of his writings..an extremely profound, poignant and imagery inducing blend of verses, which would mean differently to whoever happens to read..

A Boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear --

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden dream --
Life, what is it but a dream?

isnt it almost like a lullaby..lying alone on a lonely boat, rocking slowly on a sleepy brook , even as the evening closes in and you feel the chill of the cold wind..and think about life..i only wish i also had the gift to put those fleeting feelings into words so beautifully..