tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7455624252138569392024-03-19T17:04:08.235+05:30FranKophoneAnwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.comBlogger301125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-55922262042112267072018-07-19T23:40:00.000+05:302018-07-19T23:40:01.038+05:30Double lives <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Mobile phone. Check.<br />
Tickets. Check.<br />
Sunglasses. Check.<br />
Heart. Uncheck.<br />
<br />
Tears. Check.<br />
Pain. Check.<br />
His memories. Check.<br />
Kiss of love. Uncheck.<br />
<br />
No meetings. Check.<br />
Wet pillows. Check.<br />
Lies. Check.<br />
Hi Honey ! Uncheck.<br />
<br />
Start. End. Repeat. </div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-20005593270742256492018-06-03T22:06:00.000+05:302018-06-03T22:06:49.087+05:30Our shared dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have a single dream every night,<br />
With you in it. In your favourite t-shirt,<br />
You sleep in my dream and I ...<br />
Gaze at you for hours together,<br />
Drink the wine of ecstasy ;<br />
Eyes closed, you resemble Adonis.<br />
<br />
As you wake up, I put up the question -<br />
"Why can't you be here ? With me, all the time"<br />
You smile endearingly, and say -<br />
"I am here with you. Don't you see me ?"<br />
You seem like a fleeting dream.<br />
<br />
Tears and smiles at the same moment,<br />
You taught me to do this - "Love you forever",<br />
I say and your embrace encompasses my world.<br />
I hear from you "It is your turn next time".<br />
I close my eyes imagining another rhapsody,<br />
And I do not seem to find you again ...</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-45309563209698821522018-05-12T19:26:00.000+05:302018-05-12T19:26:00.340+05:30Fairy Lights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiuqBoAAJBbWPdRDAfVgl32B2g5enVxK9OA30AueGqNlWKoQqec_CEGivUd4mvEgynBuuMBQ5NPyvAE43SnVotg_YSBNx82LJ8oGTdmtg12vV7kW6Y6dVhmWqP-qVFyGqSrfYuGGYI0I/s1600/fl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiuqBoAAJBbWPdRDAfVgl32B2g5enVxK9OA30AueGqNlWKoQqec_CEGivUd4mvEgynBuuMBQ5NPyvAE43SnVotg_YSBNx82LJ8oGTdmtg12vV7kW6Y6dVhmWqP-qVFyGqSrfYuGGYI0I/s320/fl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Remember the last time I came to your house ?"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Yes, the same lights. No, these are new ones. It was ages ago. Christmas I guess."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"No, your birthday."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Ah ! Birthdays. Who cares about it these days ? "</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Come on, friends do."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With a smirk, she asked, "Really ?" </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I decided to keep quiet. Sofie had this hold on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />A lot had changed during the twelve years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had left Sofie's world and never intended to return. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But somehow I re-entered her life. <br /><br />Shaking me from my reverie, she asked, "I guess you will leave in a day or two."<br /><br />I replied, "Yes, tomorrow evening." <br /><br />"And when will you be back ? "<br /><br />I had no answer to her question. She smiled slyly and drifted, "You remind me of him. He had no answer to most of my questions."<br /><br />"I am sorry, Sofie", I blurted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Please don't be. He is not dead." The standard Sofie-answer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She continued,"You should go and find someone.Its almost time. "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /> </span></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-22310341994009371412018-05-05T19:46:00.001+05:302018-05-05T19:46:45.082+05:30Fading Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">What
is with this smile Mamma ? </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It
follows me everywhere, in good times <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
in pain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">During
journeys and at nights I rest. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember
how you read me my <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nursery
rhymes and the alphabet Mamma ? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember
how you waited for me <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To
arrive from school ? Our banters<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
the laughter that followed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Look
! My library is bigger now, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Almost
as large as that of yours. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet,
I long to hear a lullaby from you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sing
to me Mamma ! Just like<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You
did ages ago. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don’t
walk away like that Mamma ! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">See,
I am your little girl in tears. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You
taught me how to fight my battles<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But
weren’t you my shield ? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I
am you girl, grey and portly, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But
I still need to hear my lullaby. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-6719034239725446872017-04-12T23:24:00.000+05:302017-04-12T23:24:21.409+05:30Amidst Soul-lessness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is smoke somewhere. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I cannot seem to figure out where. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The lights are here, the music is here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Has it been home here ?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or maybe when I realized I was okay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Had it been always like this ?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not really. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Things clicked, took effort and blood. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Played this game. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe appreciation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Another journey, another dry spell. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Will it ever be home again ? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>P.S. :</b> Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017 </i></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-15907049921773843792017-02-19T23:01:00.001+05:302017-02-19T23:01:51.893+05:30All Consuming Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear You,<br />
<br />
Looks like I have found you.<br />
<br />
In the depths of my love, I notice your smile.<br />
<br />
Yes, the one you flash after that brief moment of joy.<br />
<br />
I feel your fingers entwined in mine. All the time.<br />
<br />
Your eyes speak to mine, asking me questions.<br />
<br />
Remember the first time I told you of my affection and my afflictions ?<br />
<br />
You must know this. You consume my thoughts, time and grief.<br />
<br />
Glad to have met you.<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
Me. </div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-17229888344962455372016-07-31T18:37:00.000+05:302016-07-31T18:37:53.474+05:30Twenty Nine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Twenty nine pins.<br />
<br />
One for each year of existence.<br />
<br />
He took twenty nine different pins and thrust them into her hands.<br />
<br />
She writhed looking at them.<br />
<br />
One of them forced into her skin. A drop of blood appeared on her milky white fingers.<br />
<br />
He flinched at the sight of blood.<br />
<br />
He wanted her, she did not care.<br />
<br />
Twenty nine pins meant nothing to her.<br />
<br />
It was about her wishes and dreams and desires.<br />
<br />
He saw pins and she nursed her own pain.<br />
<br />
Years. They mean nothing. How you change matters.<br />
<br />
Into what you change matters.<br />
<br />
Twenty nine can well be ninety two pins, but she would not change her mind.<br />
<br />
Twenty nine pins.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6keWrPQNLlMW-MrRelv3enHa2eijK_EvFNLa06zvJ1LiVflHKmZgKeuGJDr4nY-w4parr_vxIqZWNAUcJy5NuwJcLaPUUqCeed7ZiiOCWcgP0k3uyyiolq3AKSmc6k7PgLTluta66gQg/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6keWrPQNLlMW-MrRelv3enHa2eijK_EvFNLa06zvJ1LiVflHKmZgKeuGJDr4nY-w4parr_vxIqZWNAUcJy5NuwJcLaPUUqCeed7ZiiOCWcgP0k3uyyiolq3AKSmc6k7PgLTluta66gQg/s1600/download.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-69508406850243300052016-02-14T00:31:00.000+05:302016-02-14T00:31:38.308+05:30The Mother knows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
When does a mother feel proud about her child ? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Is it when the baby walks for the first time ? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or is it when the child calls the mother for the very first time ? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No, it must be when the child runs wildly with glee. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ever watched a mother caress a baby ? No blemish or mask.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A pure emotion that awaits a definition. The very next moment, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The baby leaps out of the mother's reach. Who can contain the </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
breeze of childhood and innocence ? The mother watches. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At every birthday, a cake is baked. The guests change, children too.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When does a mother feel proud about her child ? Is it when </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The child attains adulthood ? Or when the first earning is put in </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The mother's hands ? I do not know, but the mother knows. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is every time the child smiles, every time the child speaks,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every step the child takes, every hurdle the child crosses. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every time the child runs to her for a missing button, some </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Advice or even a hug. The mother always knows.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img class="irc_mi" height="414" src="http://www.godgossip.org/admin/upload/Image/318dae01fd9bf246dd11246298c033df.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="403" /></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-58242314418759631552016-01-20T16:44:00.001+05:302016-01-20T16:44:37.827+05:30The Soliloquy of a Sonador<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ever since you flew away,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have been conjuring up your image.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the midst of my thoughts,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you light up a smoke and offer it to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Everything ceases to be right, I palpitate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am supposed to be lonely as the cloud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You make me forget the sound of fleeting music. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the background, a portly man laughs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In a puff of drowsy numbness,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I catch a glimpse of your sparkling eyes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What are you, I wonder. How could you,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Love was it, then ? Like a waterfall in a desert ?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After that brief encounter, you vanished.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I looked at you as a figment of imagination. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My body wore the tell-tale signs of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I believe I saw the best of dark and bright,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or was it the crazy trick of reflection ?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One fine evening,you landed at my doorstep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was old and so were you. Beauty had</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Served its purpose. My nest was empty. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had flowers at my feet,you were real. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes I ponder about you. I should </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Have known. You were capable of hurting me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You were the nightmare I was waiting for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nubile I was,you played me well. Not that </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was ignorant,I chose to feign it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You were the love of my life, Senhora. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had all the money in the world for you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I still remember,the knife you held,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The blood it drew , the flinch I saw,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In your eyes. Irony loves to see another day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I still wonder if it was a vision, or a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">waking dream. You still mesmerize me. </span></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-33249054162830722552015-11-01T20:39:00.001+05:302015-11-01T20:39:45.041+05:30Name-Place-Animal-Thing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
memories.<br />
things that i did not do.<br />
things i never will.<br />
people i have hated.<br />
people i shall always love.<br />
names that i have forgotten.<br />
names that are etched in my being.<br />
animals that i have eaten.<br />
animals that have consumed me.<br />
memories.<br />
<br />
<br />
Explanations that are not needed.<br />
explanations that I never give.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0P4uvSCrxTCkIDeWe7p8koYYlEU9D_I6608y5lvC75p3MbEgcni9X6Y_4clH5O4cQdTE621upoZsJ0LMvJPWWZy04_BlFHBdWNbS2jzYW44mz20F8YHhdAsmHZPQF9H-wpnCEltFL3U/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0P4uvSCrxTCkIDeWe7p8koYYlEU9D_I6608y5lvC75p3MbEgcni9X6Y_4clH5O4cQdTE621upoZsJ0LMvJPWWZy04_BlFHBdWNbS2jzYW44mz20F8YHhdAsmHZPQF9H-wpnCEltFL3U/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-53520236437005349342015-08-07T22:08:00.001+05:302015-08-07T22:08:36.026+05:30Smiling at Sunset<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear You,<br />
<br />
Wasn't it the other day we met ?<br />
<br />
There was no intention apart from business.<br />
<br />
You came, I complied and it all went fine.<br />
<br />
Nobody had noticed anything odd.<br />
<br />
I still wonder why you came back.<br />
<br />
Was it me or something I had told ?<br />
<br />
I hadn't revealed any of my secrets.<br />
<br />
You had none. We met at sunsets.<br />
<br />
You told me something new each day.<br />
<br />
I merely listened, thinking that this would end too soon.<br />
<br />
You didn't end anything. I was amused.<br />
<br />
You started quite a few things. I still thought nothing.<br />
<br />
I believed I had it all, learnt it all.<br />
<br />
But then you being you, it was all too novel.<br />
<br />
You had me.<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcVc6QRKmsvksrN-68x2q4-iUTNNf4_ueI0tybBs_VR1CZTllulzRZqljHt9CpBKPY7YGrcvRK-XtQMxaWNOiB54sj8hcMNAWH3F1bVAVOXl8xgMW6dY0jk1xkz2ZLQd3AwTQ-DVByVA/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcVc6QRKmsvksrN-68x2q4-iUTNNf4_ueI0tybBs_VR1CZTllulzRZqljHt9CpBKPY7YGrcvRK-XtQMxaWNOiB54sj8hcMNAWH3F1bVAVOXl8xgMW6dY0jk1xkz2ZLQd3AwTQ-DVByVA/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-36362712186059044692015-06-03T15:59:00.000+05:302015-06-03T15:59:17.892+05:30Living With A Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>L</b>ost in nothingness, I look for unformed words.<br />
<b>I</b>nsides bursting, verses still not finding a way.<br />
<b>V</b>ictory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring.<br />
<b>I</b>n the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed.<br />
<b>N</b>umbing nerves collapse, I give up.<br />
<b>G</b>oing for a walk might rescue, I assume.<br />
<br />
<b>W</b>ithering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares.<br />
<b>I</b>n a flash, a young thing gets trampled.<br />
<b>T</b>ruck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me,<br />
"<b>H</b>ave you noted its number ?"<br />
<br />
<b>A</b> shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream.<br />
<br />
<b>P</b>eople disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last.<br />
"<b>O</b>ne down, millions to go", someone shouts.<br />
<b>E</b>vening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow.<br />
<b>M</b>aybe I need to check some numbers now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSC3g4NceD8NxH1EUDLDwMnSeMdPn3LQB4Is7LIZ3Y98r6_8-Qbc-mYapeXfmLJPbo9KXuE3tW76JXO8ub8hmfqnLH2sCukv5z18mUzrhMAJEfzlh5O-brmxeMuFw-5BLCzjnSt_9urpY/s1600/blood.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSC3g4NceD8NxH1EUDLDwMnSeMdPn3LQB4Is7LIZ3Y98r6_8-Qbc-mYapeXfmLJPbo9KXuE3tW76JXO8ub8hmfqnLH2sCukv5z18mUzrhMAJEfzlh5O-brmxeMuFw-5BLCzjnSt_9urpY/s1600/blood.png" /></a></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-44817641803135061132015-04-18T12:01:00.000+05:302015-04-18T12:01:01.125+05:30Daze<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear You,<br />
<br />
Hadn't I wished for you ?<br />
<br />
I guess you were the one I was waiting for.<br />
<br />
You have come now. I am almost with you.<br />
<br />
Then somebody asks "Is that him ?"<br />
<br />
I look at you, I ask myself "How do I know him ?"<br />
<br />
I do not. I assume you are someone I liked.<br />
<br />
You have nothing to say, all you want to do is to take me with you.<br />
<br />
I turn around and see someone crying.<br />
<br />
Someone loves me here.<br />
<br />
I stay. You leave.<br />
<br />
And I know you never loved.<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
Me. </div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-40627398896024816412015-03-22T22:31:00.000+05:302015-03-22T22:31:00.015+05:30Of Love and other Ailments<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"So you are still choosing ?"<br />
<br />
"What makes you think so ?"<br />
<br />
"Nothing. Just asking."<br />
<br />
"You're happy ?"<br />
<br />
"Yes. She's a great woman."<br />
<br />
"I'm sure. How's Eva ?"<br />
<br />
"She is good too. Has sent you a picture."<br />
<br />
"Oh ! This is beautiful ! She did it ?"<br />
<br />
"Yes. She loves the place you used to frequent."<br />
<br />
"Really ? Seems she's taking after me."<br />
<br />
"I'm afraid she is. She has the same hold on me".<br />
<br />
"You won't ever forget it ?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe. Might not be."<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-84232172265509138422015-03-18T21:50:00.000+05:302015-03-18T21:50:02.142+05:30Pain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear You,<br />
<br />
Do you know how it feels when something rips you apart ?<br />
<br />
The first second you realise that something hit you.<br />
<br />
The next five seconds your realise you are badly hurt.<br />
<br />
The next few hours are spent in agony.<br />
<br />
You cannot really cry.<br />
<br />
Tears form in your eyes - you need to hold them back.<br />
<br />
Till your vision blurs.<br />
<br />
A slight ache near the heart, or somewhere in between.<br />
<br />
Now, the head gives in. There is an excrutiating gash somewhere.<br />
<br />
You need not figure out where.<br />
<br />
You need to shout but you cannot. Or rather, should not.<br />
<br />
You need to pretend to be brave.<br />
<br />
The world will beat you to pulp once you let it know of your vulnerability.<br />
<br />
As the hours pass, you realise that you can live with this pain.<br />
<br />
And just walk along.<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsBaLw8cT7MqoRwSU-dD_4AFXyqtJD-0HQUZZmPuV83KDj7dF1-sr_2wIciS-nUMh17B4M8gBjpj3DBNVj5IZUOnCmWccz1fbSB1H34qYitH3jLh7le9-I8yi1rAZvy_GDyfid0DOuxU/s1600/pic1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsBaLw8cT7MqoRwSU-dD_4AFXyqtJD-0HQUZZmPuV83KDj7dF1-sr_2wIciS-nUMh17B4M8gBjpj3DBNVj5IZUOnCmWccz1fbSB1H34qYitH3jLh7le9-I8yi1rAZvy_GDyfid0DOuxU/s1600/pic1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-19794114603069291722015-02-21T15:12:00.000+05:302015-02-21T15:12:23.122+05:30On the death of a baby girl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.fruitipedia.com/Images%202/Tamarind%20tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.fruitipedia.com/Images%202/Tamarind%20tree.jpg" height="227" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the shade of our tamarind tree,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I often think about you, my baby.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You would have been four by now,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Maybe just started school.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your mother loves you, I want you </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To know that. But then you always </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
question. You ask me, "Why did you </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
stop me ? Was I not reason enough for </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happiness ?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You were, my child, you were. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I stopped you, I did not want you to </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
die in the way I do. Every single day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My blood and tears are reason enough</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To stop you. Maybe some other world </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Is ours. Where I can keep you hidden </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From vile eyes, words and touch.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where I can see you smile, walk and grow.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where I can beam after watching your laughter.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the shade of our tamarind tree,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I often think about you, my baby.</div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-82229887382402961842015-02-04T01:48:00.000+05:302015-02-04T01:48:52.575+05:30Hurt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Didn't you realise I was hurt the other day ?<br />
<br />
Shards of glass pierced into my soles as I walked barefoot. You seemed to be aloof. I never said anything. You told someone else,"She's brave enough to handle it all alone". I wish you had come and asked me.<br />
<br />
You sleep silently all day, refusing to acknowledge my presence.<br />
I am not complaining ; I simply wait to hear your voice. I long to be looked at. Your gaze is my only desire. But you don't.<br />
<br />
Don't you realise I'm hurt by your reluctance ?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ftTFR2xztrjJxSjEKihWYSwvJ0yM3by1whkyatzKGcbLr8BEGhZGPi0X8xdku-dbvbIVA8ESjnFAplKI-gabqKGd1hgqxtme9s-ReShXAeCqo8FiVj8m4IKSjkFXFUwakMlW7ZFZXcw/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ftTFR2xztrjJxSjEKihWYSwvJ0yM3by1whkyatzKGcbLr8BEGhZGPi0X8xdku-dbvbIVA8ESjnFAplKI-gabqKGd1hgqxtme9s-ReShXAeCqo8FiVj8m4IKSjkFXFUwakMlW7ZFZXcw/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-37599272919143546162015-01-14T22:08:00.001+05:302015-01-14T22:08:12.463+05:30A Casket Full of Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wake me up not,<br />
For I would like to<br />
Hold on to my dreams<br />
For some more time.<br />
<br />
I know that the world<br />
ain't all pleasing, but<br />
Can't I choose to be away ?<br />
Let me dream for now.<br />
<br />
Do you realise what I<br />
Dream of ? There aren't any<br />
Heroes or magicians. A<br />
Simple tune hovers above.<br />
<br />
I wish I had this dream<br />
All my life. A life time of<br />
A dream. Of music and silence.<br />
A casket full of dreams.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPDL4YeP5se2itZ3ZX9yg8ziTycrK9Tgiljw4p8gNAO0cexRq-5qsJnP0XabY_6kajjZOe54m8cdakwz3QOZRvtJxH_l4_AuxjugbmokfSilI0tfEXIyw3pDjpJ3eKyoFdb-k-7plhaA/s1600/pic234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPDL4YeP5se2itZ3ZX9yg8ziTycrK9Tgiljw4p8gNAO0cexRq-5qsJnP0XabY_6kajjZOe54m8cdakwz3QOZRvtJxH_l4_AuxjugbmokfSilI0tfEXIyw3pDjpJ3eKyoFdb-k-7plhaA/s1600/pic234.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-2508778188531397142015-01-03T17:21:00.000+05:302015-01-03T17:21:11.362+05:30A Caged Bird<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">A friend asked me this morning if I was a Maya Angelou fan. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">I replied her "Kind of".</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">I had never asked this question to myself. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">Perhaps I considered her more of a feminist than a literary figure. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">However it was her poem 'The Caged Bird' that startled me. Till then, I saw poems in black and white - they could induce either happiness or sorrow. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><i>But a bird that stalks<br />down his narrow cage<br />can seldom see through<br />his bars of rage<br />his wings are clipped and<br />his feet are tied<br />so he opens his throat to sing.</i><br /></strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">We have associated songs to happiness and cheer. Without them, the world would have been too drab. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">But these lines ! They shatter all romance associated with music. These 'songs' are born from intense pain. Pain of magnitude that we cannot imagine. The more the pain, the sweeter the song. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">They sing as they have nothing to do except cry at their destiny. Who sings when there is a pressing need to cry ?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">But these 'birds' are one of its kind. Instead of tears, they fill the world with music. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">Maya was perhaps the first persons to write on this 'grey' theme. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;">I proudly proclaim to be a 'Maya Angelou' fan.</span></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-64396933957531362162014-12-26T00:03:00.002+05:302014-12-26T00:05:27.880+05:30The Unfinished Letter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Love,<br />
<br />
Hope you have reached safely. Now that there is snowfall, you won't have to venture out for long. I have set the photograph atop the mantel. The fireplace looks deserted. As if it is missing someone. You know who that is.<br />
<br />
Emmy's cheeks turned pink today. Her cheeks look like those apples. For some reason, she doesn't smile anymore. Did you notice it while you were here ? I also see some random children walking about in the house. Emmy says they have always been here. I do not understand. Its you who has always been there, my love.<br />
<br />
I have this feeling that I am getting old. Did you notice any grey hair ? Or even worse- wrinkles ? Tell me if you have. We must be together. We are young, Emmy is a kid but she needs a sister. Or even a brother. You must come back soon. Or I shall go there with Emmy. Life has been kind to us but we can't take anything for granted.<br />
<br />
I hear someone calling me. Oh my God ! That looks like you. You're back ...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHw8jaR6cSKD1ksw0AtCnb6-uY_pHPAfwQlLdnVB3ByNXR3KwJVUVb8GrF2hE9uiJzMir5-izlNv4Rlvu2R2mPlJL9KN1ny9oTdZs02xWVnyLaMjBpxzxon8MGaGphQ_RhLLxWxoe-8MU/s1600/blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHw8jaR6cSKD1ksw0AtCnb6-uY_pHPAfwQlLdnVB3ByNXR3KwJVUVb8GrF2hE9uiJzMir5-izlNv4Rlvu2R2mPlJL9KN1ny9oTdZs02xWVnyLaMjBpxzxon8MGaGphQ_RhLLxWxoe-8MU/s1600/blog1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-76892952111927774652014-12-07T16:08:00.000+05:302014-12-07T16:08:18.839+05:30Forgotten.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I found one of your pictures today.<br />
Pressed in one of my old wallets.<br />
Also a few pieces of paper,<br />
I guess stained with your lip colour.<br />
<br />
Had locked the stuff and kept it<br />
away. I'm changing houses,<br />
So I had to check all cupboards.<br />
Leaving them here. Forgotten.<br />
<br />
________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<br />
New house.To forget an old love.<br />
Found an old wallet with pieces<br />
of paper. Stained in lip colour.<br />
Brilliant red. Must be forgotten.<br />
<br />
Love is everywhere, ain't it ?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Dsul-3mo1C-XxZg86dn25LU3ZnMipidPQ-V_2CKWnzVnloQvAkh5eJqZydTe6DaILiPam5LcK5ji0XkLzbBssrO4HzfYzD94aY1r8KF3y5_ZzuETKVtuieLCyIW_pGY89YJz4SQyzp4/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Dsul-3mo1C-XxZg86dn25LU3ZnMipidPQ-V_2CKWnzVnloQvAkh5eJqZydTe6DaILiPam5LcK5ji0XkLzbBssrO4HzfYzD94aY1r8KF3y5_ZzuETKVtuieLCyIW_pGY89YJz4SQyzp4/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-9957781972017485512014-12-02T23:51:00.000+05:302014-12-02T23:51:07.651+05:30He and She <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In an effort to understand what she meant by 'walking by the lake', he ambled along the promenade.<br />
He saw the birds flying across the horizon, the fishermen on their boats and the children playing nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary.<br />
<br />
What did all this mean to her ?<br />
<br />
He noticed her approaching. With a smile. As she reached him, she asked, " Shall we take a walk together ? I want to show you my favourite place on earth." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCs7kImCmc4i6L3qpiSAVu15TJV62_A-ywCX9eP2AuaKoBMD17BMS3BLAi9ZUFlZk5-ojB7Z14WmuKki9kNLV0JH_FHDydOFJASy7Y-OdYwHi0N6bPgKwADfY2_WS2yjpAbbS-PJIOdM/s1600/IMG_3415_6_7_tonemapped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCs7kImCmc4i6L3qpiSAVu15TJV62_A-ywCX9eP2AuaKoBMD17BMS3BLAi9ZUFlZk5-ojB7Z14WmuKki9kNLV0JH_FHDydOFJASy7Y-OdYwHi0N6bPgKwADfY2_WS2yjpAbbS-PJIOdM/s1600/IMG_3415_6_7_tonemapped.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-78671597447240576292014-11-08T19:19:00.000+05:302014-11-08T19:19:37.373+05:30A bacchanalian's diary <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey !<br />
<br />
You know, I never meant to hurt you. I love you !<br />I think I hit you last night and I am sorry.<br />I won't drink anymore. Never !<br />
That man ! What does he think of himself ! Is he my lord ?<br />
I'll leave that goddamn job. But then, I again think of you and Ela.<br />
Does she know ? I hope not. I want to be a good father.<br />I shall give up drinking.<br />
_______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
I am sorry !<br />
<br />
I hate myself when I see you with those stitches on the lips.<br />How could I ! I broke my promise. I shall kill that man. He has ruined my life. <br />________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
You ran away... with Ela. Am I a devil ?<br />
I shall drink tonight. To stop this pain. To stop this madness.<br />
I shall.....<br />
_________________________________________________________<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXDtb0omlrXPUDaGNXh14B3OeoTEXb-vnkUjYEg_OG8ose4GBKwbghDZacCXP465e0gkl3dv0T4NJQ_7yz6wSmGdnhVR7cUtmWeTlEQ8Sd24iMfrdjMmUmTiQKnuZXY-4PwPInESJzfc/s1600/drunken-madness-06-rw-c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXDtb0omlrXPUDaGNXh14B3OeoTEXb-vnkUjYEg_OG8ose4GBKwbghDZacCXP465e0gkl3dv0T4NJQ_7yz6wSmGdnhVR7cUtmWeTlEQ8Sd24iMfrdjMmUmTiQKnuZXY-4PwPInESJzfc/s1600/drunken-madness-06-rw-c.jpg" height="222" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-15129946693777642862014-10-20T23:25:00.000+05:302014-10-20T23:25:19.674+05:30Growing Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Someday I would like to grow old.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Take a feel of how your limbs give up before your mind.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To see men,women,children and others younger than you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To feel used to the world at large.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But before that, I would be young for a long, long time. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hold my breath on viewing the beauty around.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Shout loudly at parties, cry my heart out in a stuffed room.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Live, love and leave just as I have always liked.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Someday I would like to grow old. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU120njwMeGyO3_KSf9cUiUce-MxK0qj627DQbqP1MI8xqVQy8e7YKZTn_RkL6iapc-R3-E4IBzlD6e_HHQkxw8dQbAxF_T4fF-2m84ziGJ1HJ4ao3NoauW7YTq_HKOQEpXFGze4NZcO8/s1600/live-your-life-hooks-design.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU120njwMeGyO3_KSf9cUiUce-MxK0qj627DQbqP1MI8xqVQy8e7YKZTn_RkL6iapc-R3-E4IBzlD6e_HHQkxw8dQbAxF_T4fF-2m84ziGJ1HJ4ao3NoauW7YTq_HKOQEpXFGze4NZcO8/s1600/live-your-life-hooks-design.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-745562425213856939.post-70309928946829640412014-09-11T23:18:00.000+05:302014-09-11T23:18:42.615+05:30The Journey <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiPU-lD4khcMyM2V_2_zaMlJEyhIkgxxZbAkBSrzuVN3s9z6vLddtSaBStbS0e3eJ3fLHDM98rria30s65J-pm-sSjOUaMH436YX36tQkPFTqN09CFf1BjoRVcyofrequ5-aoMAYK1Xc/s1600/IMG_2758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiPU-lD4khcMyM2V_2_zaMlJEyhIkgxxZbAkBSrzuVN3s9z6vLddtSaBStbS0e3eJ3fLHDM98rria30s65J-pm-sSjOUaMH436YX36tQkPFTqN09CFf1BjoRVcyofrequ5-aoMAYK1Xc/s1600/IMG_2758.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; the trip takes us. -John Steinbeck</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a cool January dawn when we started on a journey to Shravanbengola. My parents and I are heritage freaks and were super-excited to visit 'quaint nooks ’ of Karnataka. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We boarded a Volvo along with 30 other people. After a couple of hours, I saw a barren granite hill. A tiny flight of stairs carved on it. People climbing upon it like ants. I thought to myself “What on earth ! Fools ! Why climb mountains !” Simultaneously, my mother thought, “This is the place. There must be some other road around to take us. Tourists don’t climb hills, devotees do.” My father was thinking to himself, “Will they be able to climb this ?”</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The bus came to a gradual halt. The tour guide announced “This is Vindhyagiri hill. Gomateshwar statue is located on the top. You have to climb 620 steps, see the statue and come back in an hour.” I was surprised. I never ever thought a sweet “off-beat” idea would be this – climbing a hill to see a statue. As I came out of the bus, I looked around. It was the middle of nowhere. A tiny village selling agarbattis and flowers. The sound of people asking you to buy socks. The subtle smell of flowers. Breeze that touch you slightly. There was nothing one could do besides climbing the hill. We braced ourselves and took the first step.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The stairs were carved from the hill itself and had been polished smooth by millions of feet walking on them. They weren’t steep as well. The only problem – it was a queue. Like most south Indian religious places. After a 100 stairs or so, many people got tired. The crowd thinned out. But we continued. I looked around. It was beautiful ! The blueness of the skies met the brown little village on the horizon. It felt better. We cheered up and climbed further.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had a bird’s eye view of the entire region. It felt like I was on the top of the world. We entered the enclosure. Most of the people inside were Jains – saying their prayers. The 42 feet statue appeared. I had my looking around and came out.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The downhill march begun. It felt less dizzying. I could feel my breath as I climbed down. And this time, I took to feeling the vision – it looked grand – the tiny houses, the lake, the trees and a cloudless sky overhead. I realized it was probably “once in a lifetime” experience I had wished for.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My father was happy to see three of us fit as a fiddle after the climb. But more than that, it was a sense of accomplishment that I saw in his eyes that day – none of us expected to climb a hill someday and come back without injuries. Happily we were proven wrong and continued our journey to the next destination on our itinerary. </span></span></div>
Anwesahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282981779361344562noreply@blogger.com0