tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20226467398178101882024-03-13T08:22:36.385-07:00Pink and Black!Pink and Black is for people who are unable to understand life, like me, constantly trying to derive some sense out of this madness.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-38334951845388252862017-09-08T08:45:00.005-07:002017-09-08T08:45:57.813-07:00An incoherent post about grief
It is a lonely autumn afternoon
that I’m spending in my room in London. This means it is typically cloudy
outside with hardly any ray of sunshine at the moment. I was in a different
place three days ago. I was in Delhi – with its people, chaos, noise, and
sunshine. Lots of sunshine.
I recently lost my grandmother.
Just wondering, can I call it a loss if the other person is in a better and
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-86421602789364531572016-02-18T18:22:00.000-08:002016-02-19T09:37:00.722-08:00Unpacking Life Stories: Late night musing
The few hours after midnight and before dawn are either filled
with complete mental peace or of total sentimental breakdown. There is no
in-between. The emotional bravado of the day starts to peel off and a more real
self is revealed. For these few hours you either fall in love with yourself or
discover profound self-loathing. But despite its dangerous nature, late night
remains my Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-31981855074722733402015-03-19T14:58:00.002-07:002016-02-18T18:29:43.915-08:00Life is short. Nah, scratch that.
One of the overwhelming moments of joy in my life has been when I’ve wanted for somebody to magically appear and that person telepathically has obliged my wishful thinking. I was almost moved to tears one time- in a good way, of course! People you love have this ability to sense your feelings and someone or the other of the lot just shows up with a smile on his/ her face,leaving you amazed and Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-51029580115136479562014-08-17T18:54:00.002-07:002015-03-20T06:06:38.908-07:00Guess who.
I
think I am dying. In fact, I know I’m dying. I have never been anybody’s
destination, only the most essential accessory of their journey. My
appropriation has only been done by poets across the planet. Those, for who I
am of high value, have made me a part of their religion. I have existed
alongside jealousy, anger and sorrow. You will find me at the cusp of love and
fear.
- Hope
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-19997439083652583032014-08-15T09:01:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:05:20.923-07:00The hopelessness of logical dreams
I don’t fly up high in my dreams anymore. I don’t get to have coffee with Bollywood stars; no playing with snakes. Not even making love to others’ boyfriends! Since a few nights my dreams have started becoming logical. They have started making sense, linking one scenario to another, sliding smoothly from one frame to another. This is just sad. My visions include convincing my parents Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-9290768786970560502014-07-12T01:08:00.004-07:002015-03-20T06:07:34.871-07:00Does it matter?
Being human was never as complicated. In a world with
fluctuating moralities, humanity has worn a thousand gowns. But I don't wonder
about that any more. I wonder about 'being' more than human. What are we? Who
are we? The first question is probably easy to answer, courtesy evolutionary
science. The second is what captures my imagination. Are we just a body with
our brain as our God and brain Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-72534130380209383902014-06-27T03:41:00.001-07:002015-03-20T06:04:39.353-07:00An Untitled Blogpost
Sweetness
is alluring. Like the innocence of a rabbit leading you to a dark forest. That
pitch dark space where everything leaves you, even your shadow. Happiness isn’t
exciting unless it is holding a dagger behind your back and you know about it.
Love doesn’t feel passionate unless it is on a deadline. Sorrow is not responsible
for any of it. It is the joy that creates all the fear, the Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-78235718352163508352014-04-21T17:47:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:04:24.833-07:00The Beguiling Love That Never Was (Part-I)
The whistle-blower
of love is silent tonight. He had quite a lot of his favourite scotch. His
arguments from the evening sounded hollow to his own self now. He never discarded
the cynics; instead, he was the one to welcome their views with such acceptance that
they were impressed with his sense of communicative justice. Freedom of
expression, he said, is what makes you know more about people Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-9799627802964747962014-03-21T17:32:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:03:58.606-07:00Sense...and a little madness.
‘Nothing worse than living in
A loveless place’; the words of
you,
How they laugh at me now.
Countless conversations,
With no promises made;
How conveniently beautiful,
The words of you.
I’d rather be a wild fowl
Than a sparrow of gold;
Ah, the words of you;
How they’ve spoilt me rotten.
Such pride ignited by love,
So much vanity in vain,
Good lord, these words from you,
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-64437347511210817932014-02-23T17:46:00.001-08:002015-03-20T06:08:50.579-07:00बैक टू स्क्वेर वन.
"दिमाग़ी पागलपन एक बीमारी है". प्रतिदिन हम सैकड़ों सवाल पूछते हैं. हर परम्परा, चलन, रूढ़ीगत मान्यता की खोज-बीन करके उसे आधुनिकता के मापदंडों पर परखते हैं. फिर पागलपन के साथ इस तरह का भेद भाव? मानवीय संवेदनायें बदल रही हैं. हम सब तनाव-ग्रस्त हैं. अकेलेपन में न जाने क्या ढूँढ रहे हैं. बड़ी अपेक्षायें हैं इस एकांत से. आशा है ये हमें अपने आप से मिलवाएगा. पर उनका क्या जिन्हें ऐसी स्थिति सिर्फ़ Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-22709172401046137532014-02-09T12:12:00.000-08:002015-03-20T06:03:34.389-07:00Midnight Musings.
1.
How do you do that?
Having just the right amount
Of emotions, no more no less?
And I'm just here collecting
My thoughts, saving them
Before they spill out.
2.
Your love is like grammar-
It just HAS to be a certain way.
Or maybe we just speak
Different languages now.
3.
You say you're a non-conformist,
I believe you.
But those meaningless Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-14020674062228513752014-02-01T17:56:00.004-08:002015-03-20T06:03:22.307-07:00Solitude and I.
Enjoying solitude is one of the luxuries one enjoys. I wonder if the previous generation could afford this. It has almost become fashionable to glorify not wanting anyone in our life who loves us. People are quite boastful about the fact that they are pretty indifferent to the ones who love them- even if they are family. There is a certain pride they hold in being alone- with no one to care Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-39020241605157850162013-08-18T07:18:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:03:09.732-07:00The Milkweed Seed
There is only so much cold wind one can endure. As I stood up from my table to close the windows across the other side of it, a milkweed seed with lovely little 'feathers' made its way hurriedly into my room. If it were a person, I am quite sure it would have been panting- huffing and puffing.
But it floated gracefully, inspected for a nice spot on my table and lovingly descended on to Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-27360369797162293542013-07-25T18:55:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:02:53.377-07:00कुछ वक़्त मिलेगा?
आदत थी मुझको, सौ दोस्त अज़ीज़ जो थे मेरे,
कहीं अकेले जाने का तो सवाल ही नहीं था.
आज अकेले , अपने शहर से इतनी दूर,
इस coffee-shop में बैठी हूँ,
फोन की contact list में जाने पहचाने नाम ढूँढ रही हूँ.
बड़ी शर्म आ रही है, कैसे पूछूँ? कैसे वक़्त माँगूँ किसी का?
कोई पूछे तो किसी अजनबी की सोहबत को दोस्ती बताती हूँ.
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-41021431035318322342013-07-25T18:43:00.001-07:002015-03-20T06:02:42.938-07:00बातें
आज रुक नहीं रही मन में कुछ बातें हैं जो,
भाग रही हैं, इधर से उधर, मुह तक आती हुई,
कि हर बार उम्मीद करती हैं की किसी तरह
आज निकल ही जायें.
मैं वापस भेज देती हूँ उन्हें,
कि जहाँ से आई हैं वहीं रहें,
पता नहीं बाहर आ जायें तो क्या हो जाए,
न तुम फिर आओ, न तुम्हारी ख़बर ही आए.
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-48141080918326908852013-07-07T09:21:00.003-07:002015-03-20T06:02:24.598-07:00No Time for Words
After the 'diary', it's now 'blogging' which will die a slow death. Every one of us has a way of expressing (or not) how we feel about things in our lives. For some it's singing, for some it's dancing and for some it's the love of writing. Writing makes people feel like their opinion matters. It gives them the satisfaction that they are being heard, whether or not it is true.
Posts longer Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-33836093185275531792013-06-04T19:43:00.000-07:002015-03-20T06:02:08.569-07:00How I Lost Her.
I hesitate to kiss her. I am pretty sure she feels the same
way for me but I still hold myself back. Will she like it? Will she make fun of
me for having feelings for her? Maybe she will never speak to me again and I
might lose my best friend forever, my only friend perhaps. You see, neither do
I talk to a lot of people nor am I appropriately expressive. So I approach with
caution, breaking Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-21539766351307587032013-06-03T20:07:00.001-07:002015-03-20T06:01:48.980-07:00Womanhood
That
Day:
On
one end of our bed, I am sitting and laughing uncontrollably and on the other
end is my elder sister, terrified and confused. My sister has been trying to
take me away to a separate room since a few hours now. She is determined to
make me understand something. She often tells me that I should enjoy these few
years before I start bleeding. From the looks of her face it seemsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-7534038007456103932013-05-08T20:55:00.002-07:002015-03-20T06:01:25.112-07:00Impulse.
I would have loved to listen to you for hours,
the sound of your perfect laughter, the stories of your past and the women who
broke your heart but tonight I have a task to fulfill. I have to mend a broken
heart.
Not so long ago I had promised somebody that he
could count on me whenever skies seem to close in on him, whenever it rained
black or whenever he felt unloved. He had laughed it Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-69663802450034480642013-05-08T20:29:00.004-07:002015-03-20T06:01:01.608-07:00Of Dreams and Nightmares.
There lives in each of us a golden dream,
Day in day out we carve it, weave it,
Nurture it; whilst it plots to get further
away.
It gets hazy, it gets dark, assuming that it’s
you,
I begin to draw us in the air, with my finger.
Dreams are designed that way, like a movie,
We know who is who, watching
From the city of angels, you’ll know.
You were no friend, you’d be no friend,
But Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-8548867423876123042013-02-21T04:54:00.005-08:002015-03-20T06:00:36.686-07:00When Life Scribbles Love.
There weren’t too many people on that railway station, given how
small it was and how infrequently trains stopped there. She was already
dreading the excess baggage which she’d got from home. Eatables, spare grocery,
woollens for the far-fetched winters, fragile gift items as gifts to future
friends she’d make and the list went on and on. She was already regretting
being called the ‘responsibleUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-70494961267042731652012-11-26T13:52:00.004-08:002015-03-20T05:59:36.419-07:00Adding my own to dating advice cliches!
Months have passed and I haven’t had a chance to write something which will blow your mind! I still haven’t, but I’m writing any way, without delay. So these days I am absolutely free- I do have some very crucial things to be taken care of, like my career, family issues and breakups, but they can wait. I have decided to deal with everything in a systematic way just like our government- where keyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-54744280640676029602012-08-06T16:50:00.001-07:002015-03-20T05:59:06.321-07:00A poem about a writer.
There he goes,
Look at him,
For he has the most adventurous job ever.
He travels to places,
He has smelled beautiful fragrances,
He is a son, a brother, an animal, a killer,
An insect , a child, a mother, a mirror.
As random as you could possibly
Imagine; Imagine a river,
He could be a pebble, he could be the loam,
Whatever the storyline demands, he shall deliver.
There he goes,
Look at him,
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-54846276509312040332012-07-28T18:20:00.001-07:002015-03-20T05:58:44.737-07:00Rant #1
It took me 7180 miles away from you to think clearly. This is a different world altogether. We are an unimaginable distance apart. We cannot reach each other at a moment’s or even a day’s notice. Still too young to earn enough money to travel impulsively; oddly, old enough to nurture such strong feelings. I can hardly recall the details of your facial features. Distance should not blur memories.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2022646739817810188.post-15543002618107537722012-03-11T15:26:00.012-07:002015-03-20T05:56:11.319-07:00No defence against memories
“Quick! Quick! Let me get you dressed! Come here you! Arghh…”. His wife shouted at the kids.
They had come to visit London, with family. Four years of marriage and this was their first trip abroad so the level of excitement was one notch upper than the usual. He had a conference to attend there and thought that a family trip would do some good to the daily argumentative routine. Today Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0