Attic!
Normally used for storage.
Wednesday 3 June 2015
Saturday 7 December 2013
As a person, yes, I have changed. For one, the great
magnetic pull that I used to feel towards everything and nothing at the same
time, has disappeared. I was once Homer, my naked ears being tortured by the
sirens sweetly singing, and now, Now the thoughts don’t form words. Perhaps,
because there are no thoughts. I have
wanted to matter, for a really long time and now, perhaps, I do matter, only, it
doesn’t really matter to me. Like a tambourine, sniffing the whiffs of the
voodoo frills, wearing engulfing smiles that are drowning every gaze that an
ensnared eye would throw on them. Whether they’re themselves anymore, I do not know. If those
are Dave Mathews’ dreaming trees, the ones that I can see, the ones that a tiny
part of me wants to be, I wouldn’t know. They seem to be swaying, dancing to
melodious rhythms of what deafening sounds, but they don’t seem
to care. Yes, I want to be them. Swaying tall, swaying tall to the beat of
indifference. Perhaps, I am already one of them. Haze, ah! The one thing that
has been a constant in my life.
Thursday 30 May 2013
I dreamt a dream, some 7 years ago. The dream was simple. I
wanted to write a book. Haha I think it was longer than that that we dreamt
that dream where Gurleen and Me, decided to write a book about our ooh very
exciting lives, we were going to call it, “Biography and autobiography- by
Gurleen and Sumira”. I started writing it as well, but the chapters have now,
well, dissipated. Varun thought that I’d make it big one day and got me started
some 6 years ago. Wow! It has been six years since I’ve been writing, not all
that much, but yeah, my thoughts are being miraculously saved somewhere in this
world of the world wide web and attic as it is, one that I’d dust off the dirt
from there and find perhaps, beautiful antiques in some of them. And even if
they remain unlocked for centuries, I guess it would be okay, because today, if
I sit and reminisce all the years that have gone by, I know that there is
lovely melange of laughter, music, dancing, crazy dancing and magic there, even
if there was some pain there, even if there were some sad sad eyes, I know that
we still have a lot of laughter left in all of us. The bones, even if they
sound rustic, aren’t old. There is a lot of life left even if some of the
smiles are some of the eyes aren’t around anymore. There are a lot of days
lefts. That’s what we all live for, isn’t it? The smiles!
Saturday 18 May 2013
All it takes is that one moment. That tiny moment where in where the dots, by some unforeseen, unknown magic, connect and before you know it, it’s all squares marked with your initials.
Just like that.
So connected and yet so oblivious to the emptiness that envelops your very being. Living oxymorons, I shake a leg to the sad sad words. The regulars blind you with their sheen, all it is, is them, all that it seems to be, will be them. Everybody wants to be special here but the regulars over shine them by miles! Sipping the smiling words, I don’t know what they say, but it makes me smile.
I smile.
It’s all happening! It’s really happening, all the magic, right here before my eyes. I don’t know what happy is anymore, but neither do I know sad. Tis not needed, not anymore. I guess, this is it! Peace.
The strings, the chill, the grunge, the sweet sweet melody and I am drowning. I choose it now. I chose not to swim, not to breathe, not to strive so hard. I chose no words. Peace is all mine now and all it takes is that one moment.
Just like that.
So connected and yet so oblivious to the emptiness that envelops your very being. Living oxymorons, I shake a leg to the sad sad words. The regulars blind you with their sheen, all it is, is them, all that it seems to be, will be them. Everybody wants to be special here but the regulars over shine them by miles! Sipping the smiling words, I don’t know what they say, but it makes me smile.
I smile.
It’s all happening! It’s really happening, all the magic, right here before my eyes. I don’t know what happy is anymore, but neither do I know sad. Tis not needed, not anymore. I guess, this is it! Peace.
The strings, the chill, the grunge, the sweet sweet melody and I am drowning. I choose it now. I chose not to swim, not to breathe, not to strive so hard. I chose no words. Peace is all mine now and all it takes is that one moment.
Monday 25 June 2012
Ladies and Gents (certainly not Gentlemen! That is a
dinosaur and we are now living in the age of the ‘cool’). What was I saying again?
Yes!
Ladies and Gents and as I say/write it down, I imagine myself
stood, high up on a podium with millions of eyes (your eyes) mesmerized by the
words that flow out of my mouth. Only these words like tiny people in a
helicopter, that flows over your head and from the inside of these copters,
these people wave at you but don’ see them. All it is, is the copter flying
with some magic dust. The machinery, oh so magnificent, oh so grand and oh! it flies!! Peaople? Which people?
There was this one time when I was sipping my cup of tea (yes! These days I drink tea, daily-ish) I thought about that little girl who jumped out of the window, a helicopter in her own way, a helicopter that crash landed! The pain! The remorse! The rubbish!
There was this one time when I was sipping my cup of tea (yes! These days I drink tea, daily-ish) I thought about that little girl who jumped out of the window, a helicopter in her own way, a helicopter that crash landed! The pain! The remorse! The rubbish!
Tuesday 5 June 2012
Rain has changed sides, au jourd'hui. It's brought me this happy feeling evening.Actuality, a word I discovered, I really liked. I like it because, it makes me believe like something is happening. Always happening . Like machinery, even though I don't like machines too much, but TODAY, it fascinates me. I imagine the hinges, the dials moving about in constant zigzags, horizontals, verticals, and circles, never ending, all so very geometrical. Fascinating indeed.All of it so musical. It's very musical, all of it, in my head. Besides, I always like it when there is music in my head. I had seemed to have lost it for a while but TODAY, I can hear it little whispers. Very distant but it is there and it's comforting. Had you asked me two days back, I would've said that the whisper would die into nothingness but TODAY, I am sure it snow down into a blizzard, a musical blizzard. I like blizzards, A twisty twirly burst of snow and right in the middle of all the confusion there is you. THERE IS YOU!!!!!! and INDEED it is ALL very very beautiful.A voice in my head, very misleading, lost itself, but set out to guide me to the deserts of Azure. A real wild child gone astray, rolled into a cigarette and smoked into whiffs of several dying hearts, out to change the world they didn't believe in. A million strings of wonder, maniacal geniuses who ended at 28 but the whispers never stopped, like machinery, mechanically, chemically, thermally, electrically powered and frequently motorized. A following the word of the lizard king himself, even I shall turn of the lights when the music's over. Yeah.
Saturday 24 March 2012
While trying to keep
up with the ticking hands, I have left so much baggage behind. Probably, it was
never needed but every now and then, like teeny tiny time machines, little
blasts from the pasts, flash before my possibly blinding eyes. Watching from a
distance was becoming boring and my calf muscles forever complaining for some
exercise. Without a thought, just like that, I am now running along side with
them. I didn’t belong, I still don’t. Probably.
And maybe it’s just on the outside it is me as them, on the inside, I mock what
have now become, my foolish ways. Somehow, it’s all better this way. If the
pretty white doves are mine now, I wouldn’t know, for sometimes, I still sit up
and hope with my all might that this clock would somehow stop ticking. A
thought that must must not be voiced for so many reasons. He screams when I do.
Nerds that once rocked had met my lips, now, it’s all brinjals. I used to be
pretty, now, I am all ugly. I can not lie, not on a piece of paper, there is NO
guilt. Why? It IS wrong.
That monster, who I’d sit and watch is now becoming me. Oh! Mirror
mirror on the wall, who is it that speaks to me from within you. All those
screams, oh! so faint, what do they say? Oh! The pain clouds his face again.
And the same old promise that is broken each day is made, once again. A stale
beginning has been anchored to the very same point. How can it all be so
different and yet feel so familiar?
After all that I have done, why do I still dream of swimming
in murky waters? Where does it all end? Why doesn’t it all end?
A change in that punctuation mark, is it asking too much?
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