How much does the city of Joy drinks every night?
How many gallons to pain and tears, somewhere in some corner of this old city
away from the circles of light, happiness is sold for ten.
Bathed in colored light we study ourselves in different mirrors every night
Everybody is looking for someone, someone less melancholic...
With every finding I keep looking for something else, my search never ends
It always has a new beginning;
For many of us present is past continued and future never seems to arrive, living our childhood all through life.
The city no longer is home to immigrants living in colonies, it is running out of love
I have too much of spare time, I keep looking at the sun through the bottom of my whisky glass
A world goes out of fashion with every new sunshine; the painting in the gallery is searching for a home, children of broken homes
Waking up to a different today, the world is loosing its mind
Waking up to a different self everyday, I am looking for me……
Courtsey: Rajarshi Choudhury
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Bed
Yesterday was just another day... yet it was raining cats and dogs throughout... and the chill in the air was piercing… I had gone out to run some errands and was speaking to baba when he told that my grandma’s bed was sold off that day. Baba was very upset, as it was this bed that he had gifted to his mother with his first month’s salary. Mamma (as we used to call my grandmother) left us all 5 months ago... And with her all of our lives and routines changed... yesterday her bed was sold off and which carried so many memories of the past years. She is not with us... and even her most precious memory was lost too… But the grief was profound… Not for this loss of furniture... rather the loss of so many dreams and happy moments overpowered this grief.
My early memories of childhood was I and mamma on that bed… sleeping, eating, playing… everything… I still remember I used to bring chalks from school so that I could write on the bedpost... pretending I was the teacher… God knows till what age I played like this. The entire shine of the bedpost was damaged till baba repolished it. I remember the blue colored mosquito net which used to be hung over the bed at night. Ma and Baba would always say that they would never sell it off as it was of really good wood. Mamma, probably till the last time she was in Rihand slept on that… She would hide food items underneath her mattress…
So many tits and bits of memories… Some of us (like me) are sentimental fools... we gather the small precious moments and store it in lifeless things... and for the rest of our lives keep associating memories with them…
I never really visualized this day would come, the day when baba retires. I had been hearing about it for the past 2-3 years… This had been the deadline for a special event in my life… but life hardly runs the way you plan. To sell off the furniture was never dreamt of... or maybe there never were any plans... Maybe we always postponed all the planning.
Now there is no mamma to shout at… and her bed is gone for us too… people and things which had been part of your life for past 26 years suddenly disappear and you are supposed to live with that --- that hurts! I never really let her absence sink in my life but yesterday when baba told about that bed...I could not control myself...
Rains and tears were dripping down my face... I kept walking in the freezing rain but the pain would just not subside … I could visualize my Rihand and my childhood… the 5 of us – me, dada, ma, baba and mamma… the happy family… all gone… the very essence is long gone… all that’s left is smiling faces with hidden tears, hollow empty lives…the laughter, the fun all missing somewhere..
Yet we smile... I smile… Sometimes evade company... Sometimes pretend to be merry and life goes on like this for us now.
In the early morning hours when I push myself to sleep… I wonder…. Will this dark night ever pass? Will we ever see the dawn…?
My early memories of childhood was I and mamma on that bed… sleeping, eating, playing… everything… I still remember I used to bring chalks from school so that I could write on the bedpost... pretending I was the teacher… God knows till what age I played like this. The entire shine of the bedpost was damaged till baba repolished it. I remember the blue colored mosquito net which used to be hung over the bed at night. Ma and Baba would always say that they would never sell it off as it was of really good wood. Mamma, probably till the last time she was in Rihand slept on that… She would hide food items underneath her mattress…
So many tits and bits of memories… Some of us (like me) are sentimental fools... we gather the small precious moments and store it in lifeless things... and for the rest of our lives keep associating memories with them…
I never really visualized this day would come, the day when baba retires. I had been hearing about it for the past 2-3 years… This had been the deadline for a special event in my life… but life hardly runs the way you plan. To sell off the furniture was never dreamt of... or maybe there never were any plans... Maybe we always postponed all the planning.
Now there is no mamma to shout at… and her bed is gone for us too… people and things which had been part of your life for past 26 years suddenly disappear and you are supposed to live with that --- that hurts! I never really let her absence sink in my life but yesterday when baba told about that bed...I could not control myself...
Rains and tears were dripping down my face... I kept walking in the freezing rain but the pain would just not subside … I could visualize my Rihand and my childhood… the 5 of us – me, dada, ma, baba and mamma… the happy family… all gone… the very essence is long gone… all that’s left is smiling faces with hidden tears, hollow empty lives…the laughter, the fun all missing somewhere..
Yet we smile... I smile… Sometimes evade company... Sometimes pretend to be merry and life goes on like this for us now.
In the early morning hours when I push myself to sleep… I wonder…. Will this dark night ever pass? Will we ever see the dawn…?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Shhh…
Last night I cried out loud
For the sake of hearing a sound
But all I could tender
Was silence and solitude!
For the sake of hearing a sound
But all I could tender
Was silence and solitude!
Into Oblivion...
How would it feel to watch your own self fade away?? While you happily watch the world who were once with you, by your side, in the same race, move ahead… all one by one, embracing lives, they just pass by you by while you stay where you had been for years… a dark hell of your own which you call “paradise”… and simply fade away from this universe silently, passively as if you never existed. The world forgets or probably is forced to overlook your existence.
Sometimes it is better that way – to forget, not to remember what it was like to have known you… to have spent those 2 minutes with you…
Sometimes it is better to cross by you with out recognizing the face and the brilliance that once could have set the world ablaze.
You simply rust, burn up and keep sinking deeper into this dim haven as if you were from another planet, you make your own fake world – one that’s full of lies, self disgust, depression, torture, anguish and only dark clouds…
And yet all that you had was all that one could ever dream of…
And yet all that you let fade…
Like a fictional being standing at the centre of a busy highway of life with none of the passers able to touch you …
I realized at some point in my life that it is difficult to control an extremely sharp and intelligent mind. And that’s precisely the current situation…
To have known such a mind was luck… to have seen it fading away is pain… and to have tried to control it was foolishness and love… Love with all its stupidities ever dares to do the impossible tasks even knowing its miserable fate.
And maybe some day all that will be left will be your absence, and this ever going race… the world full of people who had once known you… some very precious moments … silent tears and smiles and my helplessness and despair.
Till then,
Enlighten me with your pain…
I have sailed the crimson river time and again!!!
Sometimes it is better that way – to forget, not to remember what it was like to have known you… to have spent those 2 minutes with you…
Sometimes it is better to cross by you with out recognizing the face and the brilliance that once could have set the world ablaze.
You simply rust, burn up and keep sinking deeper into this dim haven as if you were from another planet, you make your own fake world – one that’s full of lies, self disgust, depression, torture, anguish and only dark clouds…
And yet all that you had was all that one could ever dream of…
And yet all that you let fade…
Like a fictional being standing at the centre of a busy highway of life with none of the passers able to touch you …
I realized at some point in my life that it is difficult to control an extremely sharp and intelligent mind. And that’s precisely the current situation…
To have known such a mind was luck… to have seen it fading away is pain… and to have tried to control it was foolishness and love… Love with all its stupidities ever dares to do the impossible tasks even knowing its miserable fate.
And maybe some day all that will be left will be your absence, and this ever going race… the world full of people who had once known you… some very precious moments … silent tears and smiles and my helplessness and despair.
Till then,
Enlighten me with your pain…
I have sailed the crimson river time and again!!!
The Dusk
I watch you with the kids… a rare moment… the peace and serenity on your face – worthy of a lifetime… coz kids don’t bother... they don’t question you about your past and future … they just play around you… lift you up… you don’t have to pretend with them about your sanctity …
I watch you with the electronic games… the alertness and sense of achievement with your wins, so unlike the real world, make you believe you are the master coz they don’t react…
As I try to hold on to you, you gasp free of my clutch as if choked by the nearness…
The more I try to get you involved the more you evade... And I understand that…
I and the rest are aliens... to this lure of ecstasy… the pleasure of one moment vis-à-vis a lifetime of pain…
And for me... I watch you vulnerably smoldering yourself in that hole… your flames reach out to us too… engulfing us in its blazing arms…
Strangled with the numbness
Am dead to all the pain…
Venom I could not spit
Is turning blue in my vein…
This despair is mine…
And I will fight till the sun shines.
I watch you with the electronic games… the alertness and sense of achievement with your wins, so unlike the real world, make you believe you are the master coz they don’t react…
As I try to hold on to you, you gasp free of my clutch as if choked by the nearness…
The more I try to get you involved the more you evade... And I understand that…
I and the rest are aliens... to this lure of ecstasy… the pleasure of one moment vis-à-vis a lifetime of pain…
And for me... I watch you vulnerably smoldering yourself in that hole… your flames reach out to us too… engulfing us in its blazing arms…
Strangled with the numbness
Am dead to all the pain…
Venom I could not spit
Is turning blue in my vein…
This despair is mine…
And I will fight till the sun shines.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Only Sometimes
Sometimes the incessant raindrops cant wet you...
Some times the heart beats are simply too loud...
Sometimes the silence around you is so stifling…
Sometimes the darkness is just too bright..
Sometimes the threatening tears just don’t fall…
And sometimes... Oh so many times... I am just not me…
Some times the heart beats are simply too loud...
Sometimes the silence around you is so stifling…
Sometimes the darkness is just too bright..
Sometimes the threatening tears just don’t fall…
And sometimes... Oh so many times... I am just not me…
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Namesake
I remember having seen this movie with Quak a couple of months or maybe a year ago! Not a commercial movie – yet I had liked it, especially Irfaan and Tabu’s acting. I had also heard the review that the book was much better than the movie but never really got the chance to read it, till recently.
In my short stint of reading books, I had always preferred English / Foreign writers than Indian. Though I must say the writings of Chetan Bhagat are really good, however Indian writings always seem a bit slow paced.
“The Namesake” is the first Jhumpa Lahiri book that I have been reading and though I already knew the storyline, reading the book was overwhelming. As I had perceived the flow was slow paced and at times the sequence seemed very stretching, still there was a small growing inquisitiveness which never let me put the book down.
This book very minutely depicted the sentiments and feelings of an Indian settling down in a continent with unknown surroundings, people, language, food habits and culture; of trying to hold onto what the possess and the reluctance to blend with the current ambiance. The generation gap especially when the two generations belong to separate nationalities is so articulately represented that after a certain point I feel myself to be a part of character in the story. A much unbiased narration by Jhumpa Lahiri where there is no right or wrong way of doing things. At one point you sympathize with Ashima and at the other empathize with Gogol.
The most appealing phase of the book is the transition in Gogol from a boy to a man. One event … and his whole life changes. The life of the early Gogol (or Nikhil, though I must admit that I relate more to Gogol than his good name Nikhil) which was wishy-washy and carefree, suddenly slows down with the death of his father. That one night in his father's apartment brings him closer to his roots, something that years of togetherness could not achieve. That one night of inspection and the dawning understanding of his father’s life had a very natural effect. Another attractive feature of this book is its ‘elegant simplicity’ and the lack of any literary superfluities … short blunt poignant language… no diplomatic word play… no caked display of expressions… raw to the core… exhibition of Indianism.
Gogol – marrying a girl from the same community, yet could not avoid the inevitable.
Sonia – A modern NRI girl, who hates her Indian origin, yet turns out to be great support during the initial days of her mother’s widowhood, the comfortable friendship the Sonia had ALLOWED to develop despite of the variance of mindset is very commendable.
Ashima – Her meekness to accept her married life according to the wishes of her husband, stifling her inner cries… Her boldness to choose a different course of life after having dispensed off all the so called ‘duties and responsibilities’. She had never felt comfortable in the States inspite of the number of years she had spent there, longing for her Indian native. And yet the sad reluctance to leave States where she had spent the last years of togetherness with her husband and children is so ironical!
The other characters like Ruth, Max and Moushumi – and their different ways of living detachedly reminds me of the stark reality of the people around us.
The story is a subtle reminder of the Indian perspective of a family and its significance – something to look up to, something to fall back on… something to live for.
Inspite of Gogol’s numerous attempts to isolate himself from the family ties; he unknowingly could never do that. And its during his worst phase that he finds solace in the reunion of the family. The reality of death, the suddenness and the pain associated with it…. the numerous ways to relive the moments and to feel the presence of the deceased one by being in similar surroundings of the past is very stirring.
Ashima’s attempts to walk or drive through the familiar roads of Cambridge reminiscing her late husband…
Gogol taking a walk around the pond in Cleveland where his dad used to do the same, his trying to figure out the exact places where his dad must have stood before he left the apartment forever, his trying to trace with his index finger his dead father’s contours, moustache and eyebrows is very touching, yet so realistic.
Lastly Nikolai Gogol’s Overcoat – the book which saved Ashoke, and consequently Ashima and her family came through – and Ashima’s words “We all come from Gogol’s overcoat” celebrating the gift of life that Ashoke and his family had received from this Russian author.
(As complimented by daily Telegraph - )
Such beautifully observed characters and unassuming display of emotions, poised sensuality and hidden complexity spun from perfect simplicity…!!!
Applause and cheers!
In my short stint of reading books, I had always preferred English / Foreign writers than Indian. Though I must say the writings of Chetan Bhagat are really good, however Indian writings always seem a bit slow paced.
“The Namesake” is the first Jhumpa Lahiri book that I have been reading and though I already knew the storyline, reading the book was overwhelming. As I had perceived the flow was slow paced and at times the sequence seemed very stretching, still there was a small growing inquisitiveness which never let me put the book down.
This book very minutely depicted the sentiments and feelings of an Indian settling down in a continent with unknown surroundings, people, language, food habits and culture; of trying to hold onto what the possess and the reluctance to blend with the current ambiance. The generation gap especially when the two generations belong to separate nationalities is so articulately represented that after a certain point I feel myself to be a part of character in the story. A much unbiased narration by Jhumpa Lahiri where there is no right or wrong way of doing things. At one point you sympathize with Ashima and at the other empathize with Gogol.
The most appealing phase of the book is the transition in Gogol from a boy to a man. One event … and his whole life changes. The life of the early Gogol (or Nikhil, though I must admit that I relate more to Gogol than his good name Nikhil) which was wishy-washy and carefree, suddenly slows down with the death of his father. That one night in his father's apartment brings him closer to his roots, something that years of togetherness could not achieve. That one night of inspection and the dawning understanding of his father’s life had a very natural effect. Another attractive feature of this book is its ‘elegant simplicity’ and the lack of any literary superfluities … short blunt poignant language… no diplomatic word play… no caked display of expressions… raw to the core… exhibition of Indianism.
Gogol – marrying a girl from the same community, yet could not avoid the inevitable.
Sonia – A modern NRI girl, who hates her Indian origin, yet turns out to be great support during the initial days of her mother’s widowhood, the comfortable friendship the Sonia had ALLOWED to develop despite of the variance of mindset is very commendable.
Ashima – Her meekness to accept her married life according to the wishes of her husband, stifling her inner cries… Her boldness to choose a different course of life after having dispensed off all the so called ‘duties and responsibilities’. She had never felt comfortable in the States inspite of the number of years she had spent there, longing for her Indian native. And yet the sad reluctance to leave States where she had spent the last years of togetherness with her husband and children is so ironical!
The other characters like Ruth, Max and Moushumi – and their different ways of living detachedly reminds me of the stark reality of the people around us.
The story is a subtle reminder of the Indian perspective of a family and its significance – something to look up to, something to fall back on… something to live for.
Inspite of Gogol’s numerous attempts to isolate himself from the family ties; he unknowingly could never do that. And its during his worst phase that he finds solace in the reunion of the family. The reality of death, the suddenness and the pain associated with it…. the numerous ways to relive the moments and to feel the presence of the deceased one by being in similar surroundings of the past is very stirring.
Ashima’s attempts to walk or drive through the familiar roads of Cambridge reminiscing her late husband…
Gogol taking a walk around the pond in Cleveland where his dad used to do the same, his trying to figure out the exact places where his dad must have stood before he left the apartment forever, his trying to trace with his index finger his dead father’s contours, moustache and eyebrows is very touching, yet so realistic.
Lastly Nikolai Gogol’s Overcoat – the book which saved Ashoke, and consequently Ashima and her family came through – and Ashima’s words “We all come from Gogol’s overcoat” celebrating the gift of life that Ashoke and his family had received from this Russian author.
(As complimented by daily Telegraph - )
Such beautifully observed characters and unassuming display of emotions, poised sensuality and hidden complexity spun from perfect simplicity…!!!
Applause and cheers!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Troublesome Duo
Anybody seeing them would mistake them for twins – both in red top and white skirt, high heels and straightened hair – a gorgeous pair, with an individuality of their own. Both strikingly smart and uniquely attractive.
They have been spotted together many a times and sometimes even their parents / near ones get confused with the similarities, yet a close look would reveal the difference – one with sharp features and the other cute and chubby. But both Emu and Quaky together make the perfect pair, and that too a troublesome one! This is how the term was coined – “Troublesome Duo” And this time when they met at the Cap Kol office, the whole atmosphere was charged, and it felt as if the past four months had never happened.
As if we were meeting casually and not after four long moths – long eventful months with varied experiences for both of us. And that reminded me of how it all started …. in one of those memorable days…
It was in the IISWBM premises that I had spotted her, well never really recollect our first interaction, coz we never paid any heed to each other at that time. All that I remember is a plain simple girl with a red salwar suit (and always a salwar suit), who rarely spoke to me (or may be anyone)!!. Some fleeting interactions with respect to placements and there we were attending a couple of job interviews together, both trying to behave cordially with the other and BINGO!!! We landed up with the same company --- the future Emu and Quak and their beginning…
Both of us engrossed in our own lives, making polite conversation, each going through personal upheavals and lo.. one of those ice breaking moments and it all started.
We never planned to meet or to work or to stay together but destiny had its own say…
And what followed is history!!!
We became the closest; together we sailed through the toughest and the best phases of our lives.
Quak… Remember the Anthro days,
Days of hard work for a soaring career,
Days of frustration and nothingness…
Your attempts to push me out of the office by 7pm
My attempts to prove myself each and every day.
Our attempts to get the maximum of what we had,
Our joint efforts for job hunt…
And guy hunt :-)
You Mafoi… Me Kelly
We both sharing new chapters of our lives… (Remember the fear and insecurity of getting sacked!!!)
So much of heartbreak, so much of strengthening each other ,
So much of shopping specially during those sitting sessions :-)
One of those freaking nights of madness, and a drive on the bypass, shouting and singing ….
“Chal chale apne ghar”
And then the makeover --- and helluva--- Life had so much to offer!!!
You helped me gain strength and confidence, to win over the toughest phase of my life. You showed me my potential and taught me to live for myself first. Your belief in me, your praise of my precious assets... And then our staying together
Memoirs of the Durgapur trip, the photo shoot sessions, the Kalighat puja, belly dancing, morning jogs and the Padatik preps, We and the ipod and the wonderful English songs, You taught me “Viva forever” and my teaching of “Hoy to tomari jonno”. The orkut targets and new captions, the sudden influx of guys, and the awkward datings and hours of phone calls, never to forget the nightly venture to Underground with some unknown friends . Your doggy act and ducky voice… my creating mess of every relation. Our long discussions of bosses over the Escaffio Rumballs and Flurys brownies, BBQ and Petercat, those never to be repeated taxi rides and the morning movie shows.
The fear and doubts of an uncertain future, your first (and then second and third) meet with Shiv, the dress selections. Me crying into the pillow till the wake of the morning and your silent presence by my side, always reassuring of the best to happen…
You leaving Kol, quitting job; Me staying back and joining Cap Kol.
Your days of marriage preparations and my amateur tips in every possible situation.
Your wedding – a time to remember. A time to be happy to see my best friend stepping onto a different course of life… and sad at the thought of loosing you and the end of togetherness.
You in Malaysia… I in India, yet the connect and the bond strengthening all over.
We don’t share each other’s days anymore, you don’t wake me up in the morning or set deadlines for me. We don’t play pranks on anyone anymore; neither do I touch your nose…
I don’t ask your suggestions on any dress that I wear; neither do I let you make plans for a movie without bothering to ask me.
Those days are gone, that phase is over, never to come back again… yet we are together – every moment and every event is shared.
We are together while on call or the YM chats… or when you send me one of those graphical drawings which I admire and share with all my friends or when I discuss the deepest problems late at night over an ISD.
We are still together… when I request you for a ‘quack quack’ or when you call me ‘Emu’.
And that’s why we are together now… both in red and white, sitting side by side, you with tears in your big eyes… and me, well, I am always the indecent one… crying shamelessly, indifferent to the onlookers.
Have missed you terribly, all those months, coming back to an empty room, sleeping with my own thoughts unsaid, trying to wake up to an empty room and an unslept pillow by my side.
Have missed you while cooking ‘chicken tangri’ or having chocolate fantasy.
Have missed you in the City Centre and the Park Street.
Have missed you when I needed you the most, and will always do.
Our chapter of togetherness has closed or rather evolved to a different phase. But I will always cherish the phase that I had passed with you by my side.
Your writing on the backside of the glass painting is still hanging on the wall above my bed ----
““…all experience is an archway wherethrough
gleams that untravelled world,
whose margins fade forever
as I move ahead…”
Keep the journey going & experience all that comes with open arms & mind”
Emu to Quak --- April 12th 2008
They have been spotted together many a times and sometimes even their parents / near ones get confused with the similarities, yet a close look would reveal the difference – one with sharp features and the other cute and chubby. But both Emu and Quaky together make the perfect pair, and that too a troublesome one! This is how the term was coined – “Troublesome Duo” And this time when they met at the Cap Kol office, the whole atmosphere was charged, and it felt as if the past four months had never happened.
As if we were meeting casually and not after four long moths – long eventful months with varied experiences for both of us. And that reminded me of how it all started …. in one of those memorable days…
It was in the IISWBM premises that I had spotted her, well never really recollect our first interaction, coz we never paid any heed to each other at that time. All that I remember is a plain simple girl with a red salwar suit (and always a salwar suit), who rarely spoke to me (or may be anyone)!!. Some fleeting interactions with respect to placements and there we were attending a couple of job interviews together, both trying to behave cordially with the other and BINGO!!! We landed up with the same company --- the future Emu and Quak and their beginning…
Both of us engrossed in our own lives, making polite conversation, each going through personal upheavals and lo.. one of those ice breaking moments and it all started.
We never planned to meet or to work or to stay together but destiny had its own say…
And what followed is history!!!
We became the closest; together we sailed through the toughest and the best phases of our lives.
Quak… Remember the Anthro days,
Days of hard work for a soaring career,
Days of frustration and nothingness…
Your attempts to push me out of the office by 7pm
My attempts to prove myself each and every day.
Our attempts to get the maximum of what we had,
Our joint efforts for job hunt…
And guy hunt :-)
You Mafoi… Me Kelly
We both sharing new chapters of our lives… (Remember the fear and insecurity of getting sacked!!!)
So much of heartbreak, so much of strengthening each other ,
So much of shopping specially during those sitting sessions :-)
One of those freaking nights of madness, and a drive on the bypass, shouting and singing ….
“Chal chale apne ghar”
And then the makeover --- and helluva--- Life had so much to offer!!!
You helped me gain strength and confidence, to win over the toughest phase of my life. You showed me my potential and taught me to live for myself first. Your belief in me, your praise of my precious assets... And then our staying together
Memoirs of the Durgapur trip, the photo shoot sessions, the Kalighat puja, belly dancing, morning jogs and the Padatik preps, We and the ipod and the wonderful English songs, You taught me “Viva forever” and my teaching of “Hoy to tomari jonno”. The orkut targets and new captions, the sudden influx of guys, and the awkward datings and hours of phone calls, never to forget the nightly venture to Underground with some unknown friends . Your doggy act and ducky voice… my creating mess of every relation. Our long discussions of bosses over the Escaffio Rumballs and Flurys brownies, BBQ and Petercat, those never to be repeated taxi rides and the morning movie shows.
The fear and doubts of an uncertain future, your first (and then second and third) meet with Shiv, the dress selections. Me crying into the pillow till the wake of the morning and your silent presence by my side, always reassuring of the best to happen…
You leaving Kol, quitting job; Me staying back and joining Cap Kol.
Your days of marriage preparations and my amateur tips in every possible situation.
Your wedding – a time to remember. A time to be happy to see my best friend stepping onto a different course of life… and sad at the thought of loosing you and the end of togetherness.
You in Malaysia… I in India, yet the connect and the bond strengthening all over.
We don’t share each other’s days anymore, you don’t wake me up in the morning or set deadlines for me. We don’t play pranks on anyone anymore; neither do I touch your nose…
I don’t ask your suggestions on any dress that I wear; neither do I let you make plans for a movie without bothering to ask me.
Those days are gone, that phase is over, never to come back again… yet we are together – every moment and every event is shared.
We are together while on call or the YM chats… or when you send me one of those graphical drawings which I admire and share with all my friends or when I discuss the deepest problems late at night over an ISD.
We are still together… when I request you for a ‘quack quack’ or when you call me ‘Emu’.
And that’s why we are together now… both in red and white, sitting side by side, you with tears in your big eyes… and me, well, I am always the indecent one… crying shamelessly, indifferent to the onlookers.
Have missed you terribly, all those months, coming back to an empty room, sleeping with my own thoughts unsaid, trying to wake up to an empty room and an unslept pillow by my side.
Have missed you while cooking ‘chicken tangri’ or having chocolate fantasy.
Have missed you in the City Centre and the Park Street.
Have missed you when I needed you the most, and will always do.
Our chapter of togetherness has closed or rather evolved to a different phase. But I will always cherish the phase that I had passed with you by my side.
Your writing on the backside of the glass painting is still hanging on the wall above my bed ----
““…all experience is an archway wherethrough
gleams that untravelled world,
whose margins fade forever
as I move ahead…”
Keep the journey going & experience all that comes with open arms & mind”
Emu to Quak --- April 12th 2008
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Hasta Manana.. Always be Mine...!!!
Do you still remember, how it used to be
Feeling together, believe in whatever
My love has said to me
Both of us were dreamers
Young love in the sun
Felt like my savior, my spirit I gave you
We'd only just begun
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
Yes I still remember, every whispered word
The touch of your skin, giving life from within
Like a love song that I'd heard
Slipping through your fingers, like the sands of time
Promises made, every memory saved
Has reflections in my mind
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
But we're alone now, was it just a dream
Feelings untold, they will never be sold
And the secret's safe with me
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
for the one
Feeling together, believe in whatever
My love has said to me
Both of us were dreamers
Young love in the sun
Felt like my savior, my spirit I gave you
We'd only just begun
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
Yes I still remember, every whispered word
The touch of your skin, giving life from within
Like a love song that I'd heard
Slipping through your fingers, like the sands of time
Promises made, every memory saved
Has reflections in my mind
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
But we're alone now, was it just a dream
Feelings untold, they will never be sold
And the secret's safe with me
Hasta manana, always be mine
Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live Forever, for the moment
Ever searching for the one
for the one
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