Sepia Snaps

There is something about Sepia Snaps that makes me cry.

Dear Struggle,

Dear Struggle,

You, are always there with me.

People walk in and then they walk out. Times, money, places, opportunities, happiness, youth, sadness all come and go.

But you? No. You will never walk out on me. I know. You are like my shadow, my closest ally, my most known feeling. You are always there for me, aint you?

With you I am something. Without you, nothing. You define me, complete me. You have grown on me, and now I have actually started liking you.

So stay.

Sometimes, I may fight with you. Ask you to leave. Go away. But I know you will come back. After all, you too cant live without me.

If it wasnt for you, there would be just existence. The wins over you are what give me happiness, joy and ecstasy. So thank you.

Yours,
Ginger

Intoxication

A showering of blue, a lounge of white,
An escape from reality, a shimmering night,
Music on the run, hands hammering the drum,
A heady cocktail of coconut and dark rum.
A stroke of inspiration, a splash of strawberry
Flavored sugar rim instead of salt, hinting of cherry.
Intoxication in the air, hiding behind what I can see,
Is it the drink mixed with you, or is it just me?

I waited

I waited in the rain
I ignored the pain
I waited for you
To drive me insane

My way

And sometimes I pretend
I dont care what you say
For if I admitted I did
I would also want to have my way.

Reserved

When your eyes are not looking at me,
I kiss you from far, because you can’t see
Reserve the touch for only my memory
Creating no bonds, leaving both of us free.

If I could

If I could go back in time,
And change one thing that I did,
I would probably just fearlessly
Say everything that I ever hid

Oscillating

Oscillating between happy and sad
Is kind of driving me mad

Masked

So we still have our layered conversations.
Two at a time.
Thought as prose,
Masked as a rhyme.

Distant or Near

Separated by distance, you read my words,
And you wonder what do I want to say,
Let me assure you, even if you were near,
You would still be left wondering all day.

Wisps of Smoke

Sometimes you just dissipate and simply fade away
‘Just thinking something else’ is all you say,
Sometimes you are just increasingly dense,
And when asked, you just call yourself intense.

Around me, yet I can’t touch, you are still but wisps of smoke
Smoldering away inside you and me, the ashes of our love choke.

O’ Stranger

O’ Stranger, it’s so easy to open up everything to you
I can pour my heart and not care about being judged too

He said….

“ Its difficult to have a simple conversation with you”

Really?

He said, I learn. Too fast. Only half.

That’s Dangerous

Whats good?

Is it that you can’t decide what’s good for you
When you want it and don’t want it too.

Communication

So fucking important.

Misused.
Underused.
Abused.

Misunderstood.

Needed.
Sought.
Forced.

Attempted.
Avoided.
Ignored.

Builds.
Breaks.

Throttles.
Eases.

Solves.

Underestimated.
Over-sold

Universal.
Individual.

So fucking important.

‘Whatevered’ so often

(Feel Free to add your own adjectives)

Meaning of Meaning.

After a long tiring day at work… in one of those dull-momentary-lapse-of-energy-I-cannot-work-anymore-Lemmegoyoualldickheads-phewwww moments I looked at R and A who sit behind me and genereally mused “Do you guys think there is any meaning in what we are doing? Do you think there is any meaning to our lives?” with all the existensial angst I could possibly muster.

R, drowning in a days work of factor analysis, regression co-efficients and multivariate correlations, staring at the screen with unblinking red eyes, had not even registered what I said,when her tongue shot out ” Meaning? What is that? What is the meaning of meaning?”

Lol.

She didnt see the irony in that statement. Poor R. I think she is dying.

Me but not me.

You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till I’m sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
Theres someone in my head but its not me.

- Pink Floyd

Wheeeeee…

Wheeeeeeee !

I going. Drinking. and Dancing. and movie also.

dum dum.

happy weekend everybody…

In the end…

I missed you.
I miss you too.
You still don’t listen.
You have stopped listening.
Doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter?
Didn’t matter!
Does matter.
To you.
To you too.
You wish!
I do.
It doesn’t
It does.
Not anymore.
But not any less.
Always late
I thought you would wait.
I didn’t.
I wish you had

Silly

I am cranky and in this silly lyrical mood
Maybe coz I am hungry and have no food
O.k. that was the worst rhyme ever
And I thought I could write something clever.
If you don’t like it, close the page dude!

Undo

And some come along to undo what you have defined
While others just come along to simply fuck up your mind.

I will anyways write

He wrote and posted for his own sake,
An identity, neither true nor a fake
An aching episode in a masked story
An ideal proclaimed in its own glory
He wrote with his own unknown intention
Neither for memory nor anyone’s retention
Composed on his own individual belief
Sometimes just as a break or relief
Sometimes just his own little point of view
An idea that spurted in his mind and grew
Based in his own thoughts and situations
Open to everyone’s subjective interpretations
Now if she read it and she thought
That to tell her something, he actually sought
Without him asking her to read it
She read and identified, because it nicely fit
With what she wanted. Drew her own conclusions
Decided to live under her own delusions
Went ahead and altered her life
Caused some heartache and no less strife
And he stopped writing, went about feeling guilty
I ask you, is it his responsibility?
And that left him with a bitter taste
Feeling that posting on the net, was a waste
On ambiguous posts like the one you are reading, there should be a block.
No one should be allowed to generally blog
About things that can be interpreted in another way
Only things that are specific should be allowed to say
A post open to meanings is a dangerous game
What was written and understood may not be the same
And in that exactly is what I see the mystery
Of different imaginations coloring history
In their own different worlds they fit the word
And for once, each one thinks for his own and not as a herd
And there goes on this pro-and-against blog fight
And while it goes on, on this blog, I will anyways write

Under the influence of God…

God definitely was mighty drunk and full of glee,
In that crazy moment, when he decided to make me.

And surely a hangover must have been pissing him off too,
When irritably, and cursing loudly, he had to make you.

Coming Back to Life

O.K.

I have fallen in love.
Yeah..agreed its just 40 years too late. But nevertheless I have. It’s O.K.

But they say the voice is half the love (some old iranian/persian/i dont know which culture had this belief). I agree now.

The object of my sudden affection – then and now.

Veiled

And he for whom, I was the world, hoped he knew all my secrets.
And he, who thought he was my world, thought he knew all my secrets.
And he, for whom he himself was the world, didn’t wonder if I had any secrets.
And he, who hoped to become my world, asked me if I had any secrets.

And me?

Well… I will let that remain a secret.

Hole in my soul

And sometimes I was the wheel
That drove you along the road
And sometimes I was the lever
That helped you to cope with the load
And sometimes I was the mint with the hole
That freshened your life everyday
And you called me your sweet doughnut
When all the bitterness, I took away.
And I was your CD that sang your song,
Be it the blues, jazz or rock n roll
And in all those times I never realized,
That you could leave me with a hole in my soul.

Only for a little while…

And while you hide my flaws,
Will you also hide my tears,
Its only for a little while that I need your help,
Just until I drown in the beers.

Paradox of Matrimony

And I logged in into gtalk….. broke into a smile on seeing him online (I missed him..not seeing him for so many months!) and instantly said a hi! (just that…one hi!)

And he blasted….

cool
tu bata
the world is filled with hypocrites
and there is never a true love
man as a creature chooses to be unhappy by choice
choice fuckin spoils him
hence i will only get married to the girl my mom finds for me cuz then i wont have a choice
i will blindly let my self believe she is choosing the best chick out there
and i agree here to I am making a choice which i knw i
will regret but i have negated the paradox of choice by not choosing and thus put the burden of suffering it on my folks
what a load of crap
i can finally breathe

I love you dude!

(Non?) Fiction no more

He wrote through his different Alter Egos.

Quoted Garden State, masqueraded as the smoker boy, proclaimed himself to be a fan of Jack. Daniels of course.

He sang like Rafferty, read Vikram Seth and played with forty four words.

She wrote about him and waited for his clues.

After all he was a man-who-scrypted stories.

The Rainbow beneath my feet

And sometimes we try to find the rainbow in our sky,
And forget to see the riot of colors that stains
The very ground on which our feet lie

I hoped

Sometimes I hoped you existed somewhere, against all of my reasoning.

Dream

I saw a dream I was afraid to see.

And then I didn’t want to wake up
for I was afraid again of a different fear.

A little bit of Ginger

She floats along on the web and reads
Sees them and smiles at the realization
A little bit of everyone in Ginger.
A little bit of Ginger in everyone.

Wanting to love

I look into your eyes
And I want to love
But guess I am struggling
To gather the nerve

What do you want me to be?

If I was the change, you wanted me to be,
then would that be you really knowing me?

Again

I am killed by your words
And scorched by your silence
But yet again and again
I submit to your violence

Candles

Once, he promised to light the candles with the light in her eyes….

…Now she lights the candles with the tears in her eyes.

Afraid

For fear of being read, he is afraid to write.

Escape

And we are each other’s escape…
…Is it from ourselves or from the world?

You wish I was

I am less complicated than you think I am but not as simple as you wish I was.

Even if you were half as simple as you say you are, you would still be more complicated than I wish you were.

That would be too simple for my taste and still be too complicated for yours.

A simpler you would be easier to understand.

But maybe my complications are my defense. And also my weapon.

A defense against what? And a weapon against what?

That’s for you to figure out. If I told you everything, I would not stay complicated.

Will you be my bath tub?

Will you let me sink in into you.

Will you let me feel you all around me?

Will you warm me and pamper me?

Will you be there when I return home at the end of a long weary tiresome day.

Will you let me quietly lie and read my favorite book or listen to my music without being forced to talk and still feel nice about being with you?

Will you be my bath tub?

Will I ever?

And sometimes I wonder, will I ever hold your hand again.

Will I ever look into your eyes again and see what you are not saying.

Will I ever see that familiar strut at the end of the street and know it’s you without seeing you.
Will I ever listen to the phone ring inside my bag, knowing it’s you calling,

Will I ever again, wait for you to ask, knowing you will not, yet hope against what I know.

Will I ever again smile the smile that you didn’t see, while you lifted my bag as we walked out of the restaurant, opened the door for me when we walked in and ordered for both of us.

Will I ever sit with you again on the sand and look out at the sea and not talk the entire evening knowing it’s not necessary.
Will I ever again shiver thinking that you are touching me, when you were actually leaning to take the pillow from behind me.

Will I ever be taken out for a cup of cutting chai again.
Will I ever take you out for a cup of cutting chai again.

Will I ever be dropped home, freezing in an auto rickshaw on a cold winter night.
Will I ever pose for funny pictures again, which you click and we laugh at them?

Will I ever call her again to talk about you?

Will I ever hold you again?

Maybe, Meant to be

Meant to be

They said believing was the solution,
And that it was all about one resolution,
But to me, it was not about anything else
As much as it was about absolution.

Finally.

You and Eye

A longing for his dreams, in her eyes
In his open sky, her desire flies,
A scarred wish, in their silent sighs,
In the violent struggle, their resistance dies.

Willingly or Unwillingly

And I live believing my life is me and what is mine,
Though just sometimes I concede.
Willingly or unwillingly ,
I bask in the glory of your eternal sunshine.

And I fight to cement my beliefs that falter,
But you just don’t let me succeed.
Unwillingly or willingly,
To fit your mould, my soul I alter.

Wearing memories.

Memories come flooding back in the weirdest of places. With the weirdest of things.

The other day I was ironing my clothes. And suddenly with every garment that I picked up, at least two stories popped into my mind.

Events that had happened when I was wearing that particular garment.

Like the orange full sleeve top.
The first thing that popped into my mind was when I made A wait for me near the garden while I walked upto A in my hair all wet and askew at 6.30 p.m. on Sunday and started profusely apologizing for being late. And A looked at me so calmly and said “ Its ok. I don’t mind spending a little time with myself”
That orange T-shirt stands for so many other moments.
For an old palace. For strawberry ice cream. For dancing in the car park.

The Black collared t-shirt.
Absolute flood. For Carter Road on a rainy afternoon in August 2006. Breakfast and NCPA on August 16th discussing Shantaram.
For the only picture of D and me, that has come out nice. We almost look like a nice couple. (D would freak if I tell him this)
For the walks on a red jogging track with M. Discussing life, careers, friends. My farewell date with M.

The Green round collared t-shirt.
R gifted it to me. In Goa. In December 2005. At the end of four days of being in paradise. It said “The universe revolves around me”. The indulgent look in R’s eyes.
Sitting with D at a sunset viewing gallery in Bali. Drinking coconut water from a coconut the size of a football. The smiles faltering soon after. The disconnect.
Walking with A at carter road for the first time. The ice cream thereafter. The start of it all.

The red tshirt with the black collar.
Sitting with K at Barista. Corner table (as usual). The look in K’s eyes, like he found a diamond. The sheepish smile. The combined laugh with K on the similar histories of my red tshirt and his grey one.
Shopping for that t-shirt with M. Lifestyle in Malad. The indulgent look in M’s eyes. The smiles. The consolation “No no, you are not fat”.
The injured pout outside National college in Bandra.

The brown short sleeve t-shirt.
Laughing our heads off at Barista. K, A and I. As usual, the three mad musketeers. The guy with the weird accent. The repeated requests for pictures. The mad mad mad laughter. Shopping for that t-shirt with M. Again the request for help, “ Do I look fat?” Prat comes the practiced “No”

The short formal shirt.
The first time out with M. Meeting outside Bandra station. Movie in Bandra. The shy smiles, the wonderings in the head.

The Black wraparound skirt.
A gift from R. During our days of studying together. I want to gift you. Why? Just like that? Why? Don’t argue. Ok. Thanks. Crazy woman. Nice you look. Ok. Thanks.

The Mauve sari.
The only gift from W. The most beautiful gesture. I cant believe it. You go shopping for sarees? Yes yes, with my mom sometimes. I cannot believe it! What are you saying! I know…sissy eh? I don’t think so. No its not. It’s sensitive. A new face of the rude adorable W.

The Pink full sleeve top.
From Wills lifestyle. On that only date with A. Carter road. Bandra. Funny Funny Funny.

The Green full sleeve shirt.
On that only date with R. Again Funny Funny Funny.

Every T-shirt, shirt, to, jeans, comes loaded with so many memories.
It’s sometimes comforting to wear my own stories everyday.

Silent Prayer

A wasted life in which memories flood,
Bonds were formed, thicker than blood.
Buried now, perhaps under dunes of sand
But still running in the veins of my hand
The touch is still, at the end of my finger,
Sometimes it floats by, while I linger,
A glance that was caught and thrown around,
The waves that were lost and then found.
A cryptic message in a verse was made
A silent prayer at your altar was laid.

Turn

You walked in when I was walking out.
And then neither knew, who should turn about.

Contradiction.

One says: Even if We are one, we are still two different people.
The other says: Even if We are two different people, we are still one.

Articulation

Umm..how do I explain this. I cant.
Rubbish. I dont believe it. You dont suffer from articulation problems. If you said you have framed the thought in your mind I can understand. But if you saying that you are clear about what you want to say but are short of words, I dont believe it.If you dont want to, just say that!
Haha. There you go. Hence proved. Yeah we are both the masters of articulation!
Umm… well masters and all I dont know. But we definitely dont lack the skills.
There..there you go again.
Yes I know I did.

Ambiguous

So, do you have doubts about my ambiguity?
No I don’t.
I am ambiguous? Tell me where was I ambiguous?
I said I didn’t have any doubts. I know you are not.
I am not what?
You are not ambiguous.
Why do you give such ambiguous answers?
Because I don’t have any doubts about my ambiguity.
You mean you are or you are not?
I thought you were not ambiguous!

Lessons

And life taught us lessons that we should not have learnt.

You learnt that we will not get something unless we give it our everything.
I learnt that we still do not get something, despite giving it our everything.

The other side

I tried to hide
I could not abide,
I could not stop,
Crossing over to the other side.

You never realised you lied
You thought you cried
You could not wait
To cross over to the other side.

we Make we Break

we Make.
we Break.

we Chase, we Laze
we Get, we Hate
we Cry, we Lie
we Smile, we File.
we Give, we Live.

we Make,
we Break

Ode to M

This goes out to a very special girl called M.

You were there, through everything I learnt,
You stood by me, when the fires burnt,
With me you shared your life, unasked,
Gave me a chance to talk unmasked,
Taught me to believe it’s all right to have dreams
Showed me that life is lovelier than it seems,
And when I left, you shed a tear,
I too missed not having you near,
So many secrets that were left unsaid,
And I wondered where those words would have led.
So much of you, that was still to be shared,
So much of me, that was still to be bared.
And I wondered what was the ‘Reason’
I knew it surely wasn’t a ‘Season’
And you miss me more as days go by,
And I sometimes wonder, about the ‘Why?’
Why am I not, where I belong,
Why do I sit, and write this song?
But I don’t worry and I don’t fret,
I am just gladly fortunate that we met.

Thanks for touching my life the way you did M.

Layered

I want you to listen,
But will never ask you to.
You want me to talk,
But are afraid to ask me to.
You want to talk
But you think I dont want to listen
I want to listen,
But will not let you know.

So we still have our layered conversations.
Two at a time.

Understood and Wished to be understood.
Elaborate and Unexplained
Spoken words and Those unsaid.

Not to be fused yet not really distinct

And we still have our conversations.
Two at a time.Layered.

Wait

You wait.
And I wait.
Both wonder,
Which one will take the bait.

Because submission is not in me.

The more I want you the more I resist you.
The more I resist you the more I fight you.
The more I fight you the more I miss you.
The more I miss you the more I want you.

If I were you, I would look out for the day when I were relaxed around you.

Giving

If there was just one last thing that I could give

I would give you my memories

And in that only way, with you I would live.