i wonder why people sip on their tea. the real joy comes when you glug the hot steamy liquid and it gushes down your throat cleansing away with it all the pain that is stuck in there. and the space inside you is redolent with the divine aroma of tea gardens providing you a little escape on a hill in darjeeling or himachal where life still hasn't assumed this relentless pace. round the corner a little shepherd boy walking to the tune of the village folk song he whistles into the quiet morning winks at you, helping you laugh away the wearisome, bothersome worries of last night. as the tea makes way into your belly the comforting warmth enters into your fatguied muscles and for a moment they are flaccid...realxed and soothed. so melliflous is the tune it plays that by the time you're done with this little cup of healing you are no more the tired, grumpy complaining monster that woke up groggy eyed but have metamorphised into a renewed, refreshed, exuberant and benevolent soul, looking foward to rummgae through the contents of the day. i have learnt to never undermine the powers of this little cup of joy.

its a selfish love. i wear all of you around my neck in blue glass beads and allow your murmurs to drive away my silence. in all my moments of emptiness i assign each of you a role and lo! what results is the most intriguing drama, complete with passion, love, ties, sorrow and tragedy. before my sleep our conversations come alive in a new irridiscence and my world is transformed. maybe that is why i am disppointed each time we meet. my reality cant live up to my imagination. and then all of you complain that perhaps i'm asking for too much. that i shouldn't try too hard. but its too late. i guess i'm already addicted. and i'm very grateful. thank you for helping me escape my mundane existence.

in between spaces that promise a sense of leisure in time are slowly being replaced by this uneasiness that refuses to bid adieu. it is becoming harder to put the pieces together and the fear is that in no time i will be standing at another milestone and i will cease to question. where is 'me' in all of this? i dont even feel like a spectator, i cant even come to comprehend all that i am a part of. i wonder if this is a process of detachment. maybe sometime in the future it will be easier to gain a perspective on things. maybe there is no meaning. maybe this is just a regrettable necessity i have to get over with. i just need to obliterate all that i'm a part of from my reality and learn to exist in my parallel universe.

Dancing Dilemmas

trying to twirl around in stubborn osho chappals, while looking in wonder at those who slither away in high pencil heels...i'm all of 21 and i still can't dance.

taking pity on my fruitless struggle, those around me come forth to offer a few lessons on how to look less awkward while tryin to move to the music. the scary bit is that these are those very guys you just mocked at for their ridiculous dancing skills a few minutes ago. should always keep in mind :"people with glass doors..." (mine is a palace made of the most fragile glass).

so after an hour of trying to teach me in vain, my trainers give up, and i'm let off with a little pat on my head. i, for one am ever ready with the most lousy excuses..."just not my kind of music", "can't feel the rhythm reverberate through my soul", *pretend i'm in a rather thoughtful mood, that my mind is preoccupied with more important affairs, hence the disinterest in 'shaking that thing'*...always met with a look of incredulity.

i have often wondered though, what really defines the beauty of movement? i know that i'm a rather uneviable dancer (to say the least), but i don't exactly want to dance like those around me...i guess i'll have to innovate, learn the language, and stay away from the most structured forms of dancing (goes against the very pursuit of discovering your individual style).

till then, i'll just swirl my matrix overcoat around and pretend i'm Trinity...here to fight various forces, while the rest of my world can't get enough of 'kajrare'...bear with me fellow party-goers, like you always faithfully have...

tiny little droplets on my skin
begin to slip away
usher in another day.

somewhere in between my collar bones
a tune still plays
in its rustic ways.

now that my whole has broken lose
its learnt to breathe
gallops and wreathes.

ever since i heard the news bout the shrinking sun
i've been a lonesome one
just a lonesome one.