a certain depth

what i am looking for is perhaps a little deeper..... a depth far beyond the physical eye can see, one that produces blue reflections in the far end of the eye - both physical and mental..... a depth that enables me to dive into your heart.... to dive, and drown and then resurface refreshed.....it is that certain depth that i am in search of......not the one that moistens my feet, with water striving in vain to gurgle upto my angles as i sit on the banks of that dreamy, lazy river......not that....the depths should be wild, bewitching, haunting, seductive, even eerie...... i need to feel in love and adventerous too.....and then as i dive, i want to be pulled into the wilderness, i need to fill stifled, suffocated, helpless n yet happy...... as i drown, hlplessly, my arms and legs lashing crazily against the stong push of your ebbs and tides, i then need to wear that smile.....not the fake one i forever take from my pink pouch and apply on my lips before i venture out.....but the genuine one, the one i smiled when the first light touched my eyes and my mom's lips touched mine, the one that was on me even when the warm moisture of the umbilical cord remained.....the one that produces dimples in my heart.......and yet, i will lash out in full strength...i will try to hold on to any familiar thing.... i will look for familiar things, a twig, a stray piece of wood, anything to hold on to so i can go back....but the truth is, i do not wish to go back.....and yet i will try, pretend before you...... and you will know....and you will lovingly push me up.....as if you were refusing me, as if you would let me go, as if this one time were enough for you and for me, for us......and then i would resurface from the depths, i would open my mouth and gasp for the familiar stench of air....... and then i would think, some ordinary mortal whose touch i detest - in crowded buses, on busy lanes, in the clothes market, in temple queues - will perhaps see my raised hand and pull me up..... but before i know, before i can even think that you have refused me you will pull me back into your depths and i shall once again be lost...... i shall go down, down, down.......till the very depths, till there is a new world, away from the familiar, the mundane, the boring, the ugly........and forever and forever i will explore.....but every now and then, i know your waves will push me up, pull me down and let me drown, explore, love and smile.......until you can let go of me no more...... until i become so much a part of your azure blue that we will flow as one inseparable whole........that is the depth.....the depth i am looking for in you.......
i do not want the shallow depth that enables me to see the printed letters of the glass ware company that manufactured my coffee mug........
wishing you would pull me into those depths, with love, with care, with the madness in you...... if ever those depths are yours......

travel sickness

i cannot travel. not long distance, not by air, or bus, or car. it has taken me 21 years of my life to realise this. that is huge, considering that has been all my life. the realisation, nevertheless, is shattering. it came, between shit loads of puke and subsequent dizziness during a recent trip. it was only then i realised that this was not the first time. this had happened so many times that even i had stopped paying attention to it. but this was the missing piece of my childhood puzzle. now, this means i may never be able to see all i have wanted to since i was a child. it will be hard for me to pack my bag, put on my travelling shoes n go to historic monuments or go trekking or rafting, or for all that i have waited all these years to do for my parents never let me wander around as a child. worse, i'll never be able to click all those pictures. i hate this kind of existence when physiological factors tend to threaten my dreams. it pins me down, clips those beautiful long elegant wings i have let grow on my mind, smash the window panes of my castle, do everything that makes me wriggle in my cocoon. i hate it. totally. i feel like a sick old woman. damn. i want to fly, far, far beyond the eye and mind can see, far till it is dizzying n maddening n away from familiarity.....far away n wide....i want to explore, walk through unknown streets without fear or reserve.....roam around unknown towns, with no face flickering any recognition and me as me, not conscious of every step, not worrying if some perverse mind will reach its arm to touch all those parts in my body which are deemed to be covered and so attractive.....where i wouldn't have to wear an armour and iron caskets over my tender organs and stifle them and me.....where i will see beautiful sunrises and sunsets and soak into my mind and my lens the beauty of life and my solitude......i want to fly far away and without fear.....

a melancholic green

Even the leaves in this city are melancholic, sad, drooping, depressed. their green is a grumpy old woman, hardened over the years, sour, hostile. there is no smell, there is not the soft touch. they are no eye balm. they do not soothe or seduce, unlike the lush green reed of grass that i have tucked away between the pages of my book, beyond the reach of forgetfulness and the blurring touch of memories. when i whisper in their ears, they do not giggle with excitement, or nudge each other in mischief. they do not even nod in agreement. they are cold. cold as winter nights. cold as only death can be. a cold blue dead body. not the cold of home-made ice creams or the cube of ice that slips down the nape of my naked back. they are a hardened lot, through years of aggression, violence, enimity, corruption, killing, bloodshed. they are witnesses. silent ones. the ones who have turned hostile. they do not crave for love anymore. like sluts whose sexuality and tenderness have drained out by an act of violence for which castration is the only punishment, next to death by slow torture. they are not the virgins, those untouched by love or violence, warmth seeping through their veins, arteries, blood vessels, seducing the soul, the body, me. into misery they are born as into a brothel, a slum, a war-torn world. they do not want my touch, my smile, me. they just exist. and they will die. i am the witness who screams.

appreciation, happiness, sleep, and others

appreciation has come...finally...from across the floor where i live.....though, i had to force the person to read it...nevertheless, now that it has come.....i am happy....just a wee bit.....not the tremendous happiness, when you can go on stretching your lips for days together, aching your jaws.......it is not that kind of happiness.....it is this little happiness, that touches the heart, that leaves a dimple in the soul.......that spreads a certain warmth, one that slowly permeates your living moments, a warmth you would love to fall back on, you know is waiting for you, like the lovely quilt i recently acquired and into which i crawl into every night hoping it will bring me sleep, hours of tranquility, and most of all forgetfulness.......but no, the comparison may be amiss.....for, it is a definite traitor.....it makes me crawl into it, promises me sleep and forgetfulness, and then plagues me bit by bit, with the most terrible of dreams....this quilt of mine is like a lover who betrays......whom i love and trust, and in whose warmth i lie every night.....nevertheless, i still go back to it, night fter night, like the devoted lover whose love is strong enough to tide over the treachery of her partner......and every night, in hours long after the boisterous world and its many inhabitants have tended bedwards, finished their dark vices and are snoring, not even unbearably now,......in those hours, i will lie awake, staring at the ceiling where the fan rotates no more, at the wall where my paintings hang, and thinking of the past, the present, the future.....all blending, one into the other, the lines blurring......as if i were painting carefully, and someone just hit me at the elbow and splattered paint of all hues on the one i was etching long and with love........tonight, when i calculate and dream, and when mathematics and poetry will seem like one inseparable whole, growing inside my brain or my uterus, sometimes like a baby, sometimes the cancer.........i will then tonight, think of this little appreciation i won today, and the warmth will spread......and my eyes will close, my pounding heart will appear calm and i will no more hear its rhythmic beats, my muscles will relax, the blood in my numerous vessels will stop gushing to and fro, my nerves will stop carrying tensions and anxieties, and will become carriers of dreams............and then i will sleep.......bliss....forgetfulness....

no-sense nonsense

is it frustration? or is it loneliness? or plain unhappiness?......
have been trying to find out what it really is....all these days.....but nothing comes of it...only more unhappiness, frustration, depression, loneliness. that is all the possession i have now. Probably if i were to die this time, this day, and my body ripped open, all my organs, cells, the blood vessels will have these words scribbled all over them, all of them would have shrunk with melancholy, and with the shade of depression.......
too many times i have tried doing this.....tried to find and reason the source of this state of my mind...to define it, to find a name for it, so i can preserve it in a glass case - like the one that sits in the bio lab in school (i never saw another one) n look at it often as if it were nt mine but one belonging to someone else whom i know not in person.......
nothing works.....nothing happens.....the present phase seems like an episode from beckett's.....nobody comes.nobody goes. nothing happens.....oh, really nothing does happen...or it may be that much happens but i am affected by none.......and the same things again....confusion, depression, melancholy - one too deep, loneliness, frustration......
sometimes i feel i am some kind of a creepy-crawly or maybe an oyster or even a turtle, withdrawing into my shell.....i feel i am something else other than a human being...because my temperament is not the one of human beings who surround me, who seem sane, happy, go-getters whose permanence i detest, who are in no way near muddled........ah, how i hate, begrudge every bit of their souls, their organs, their cells, their nerves which have happy smiling tags attached to it.......
or is it plain boredom?....but boredom is a certain spell that happens between the ordinary-routine-dom.......it cannot be a permanent state of existence, one not broken by anything at all, one that continues to linger on for days together, so much so that it seems like the natural, permanent, unaffected one.......and it confuses me....it makes me feel out of the ordinary.....even frightens me......
in the end of all this debate, contemplation, scepticism, these still remain.....depression, frustration, unhappiness, sometimes with their dimensions doubled, tribled, increased manifold beyond my poor mathematics........
nothing comes out of it all....it leads nowhere...like most other activities we so fervently perform......things done merely for the heck of it....because it is meant to be done, because it has been ordained by an unknown someone....not amounting to anything.......
and like all those, i have written so much, maybe someone will read till this last line, and still nothing will come of it all.......

in perpetual confusion

ok..these have become kind of my favourite three words..."in perpetual confusion"...but now, i guess, its bordering on "in perpetual boredom". cant remember the last time when i was really really interested in something, really hooked on to something...but part of it is because i don't even try. and now i am wrting this..cos i am wondering why i started this blog.....i suck at technology, it makes me feel ignorant, small, handicapped...and anyday, i love pen n paper n pencil n crayons than this combination of a keyboard, mouse n monitor.....the computer has no smell associated with it...all computers smell the same, even feel the same.....ok, i have this thing for smells, always had i guess...i associate smells with people, places, childhood memories...like my nursery school, back in my lovely hometown has this smell...someimes, i like to believe, when the wind blows from the south, it brings with it that peculiar smell, the smell of Hari Sri nursery school n needless to say, the memories tag along...but sometimes, there are no memories, jus the smell...and that is enough.....i hate the smell of delhi...i already know what it smells like...at least the smell of the sultry summers, the smell of my boring hostel room, which is my refuge now..... and i know i hate it.....the smell of crushed neem leaves, combined with the pus of the ailing leper on the road, of mustard oil, of dirt n filth n disease........there is not the fecund smell of the earth when the first monsoons touch the earth back home....and i am at the balcony at home, watching the rain drops tickle down from the tiled roof.....
but this is not what i wanted to write about when i started out...i wanted to write about the state of my perpetual confusion or boredom or rather both....for nowadays i cannot differentiate one from the other.....it is one and the same....did i need to say this extra statement?...aah, blah...how does it matter now.....does anything matter at all...oh, crap...before i divert, once again.... my ode to perpetual confusion...not an ode really, but here it goes, n this time i hope i can focus...
though, the words sounds a cliche even to me now, the three describe what i am, just me...n nowadays, it rings so true...couldnt have come up with a better phrase....i have this strange interesting problem of late, that i cant decide whether it is too cold or too hot......true, it is the beginning of winters in this goddamn city...but shouldnt it be taking care of itself...rather than leaving the question open to me, when i cant decide things for myself, how on earth am i going to decide on the weather....i wonder at times now, whether the weather is purely a psychological phenomenon....whether it is ur mind that decides what is summer, monsoon or winter.......
but the mind does have seasons of its own.....different from n indifferent to the seasons n climatic changes on the outside.....whoa..if that can be called a discovery, n if am to revel in this little finding of mine, ppl out there are gonna think my life is really sad....but, do i care..no, coz partly it is true.....
n there are those times when i cant decide whether to sit, or stand or to move about...whether to take a bath or not...whether to wear clothes or not wear the terrible accesories on....oh, blah...i cant decide on the simplest of things...they grow in front of my eyes, metamorphise into huge demons, growl at me, threaten to devour me.....n yeah, i can never never decide if i am hungry or not......and, here comes the greatest problem, never can decide if i am in love or out of it...but somehow, this guy of mine s very helpful...not very demanding, so i hop in n out......creating misery for me n for him, but somehow, it jus goes on...not many hassles, save d horrendously enormous ones i create........
n abt life.....swear i love life, i am kinda interested in it, have kinda some dreams, but i do not know what to make of it.....never can decide if this is really what i want to do in life...n yeah, i hate those people who know everything about how their darned lives should turn out to be, know what they want out of it,.....i dont...n i cant pretend that i dont care....otherwise am such a pretentious creature, except when i write...when i write am honest, n words flow n am jus myself.......which is why i love this one activity....without it, my soul would have been lost long ago...n which is why, i have this blog, though i hate technology, or rather it hates me......because, when i am bored in office, n there is not much work, when its a lean day like this one, this is my refuge, my only resort, more close to my heart n soul n my goddamn life, than my guy, parents, my room back home, rain, crayons, paint, n my hometown (not in any definite order though)......
n it is because i discovered this one refuge long ago, that i still manage to live on, to move on despite my scattered wits, despite everything...this is one thing am grateful for......though i dont know to whom............
now i may get back to work, if there is any.......

winters

today, when the cold wind found its way inside the warmth of my blanket, it brought alongwith it a certain uneasiness.....as i sat up on my bed, i knew it meant the onset of winter....and somehow, the winds more than whispered that it would be the onset of winter in my life too.....for the leaves, long waiting to fall, have finally touched the ground....autumn has passed......