Pink?

You like pink?
It makes you like nice.
Colours your mood right.
It sure seduces the mirror and makes you smile.
You like pink?
I don't.

How is your hair so grey. So, so grey. I like what you wear.

Where did you learn that it was sin to sleep in peace? I learnt too. But I wonder where you learnt it from? Where did you learn that it was sin to sleep in peace?

You grey haired man can't you see, I'm in love with you.

La la la lalala la

What do you think the weather in Oslo is like?

Last night was big night. Big big real big night. I told Noori what I thought of their music and what it meant in my life. And yea they heard. They read my message on their brand new blog. Imagine that. And and and Ali Noor replied!!! Imagine they know that of the things I have to do before I die, watching them live is in the top league.

What do you think the weather in Oslo is like? Noori is playing. Ali noor is singing.

The world was full of a zillion things. And I was perfect. Perfect. But then, just then, I wish now time would freeze then. So I could have enough.

Bravo!

I didn't know that colour. Didn't know the name. Had never seen that shade. But I just knew that I had to have it on my wall. Why should my wall miss that colour, any colour. Fearless I shall always be. No colour could make my wall ugly. My wall is a beautiful sight, it'd make you cry, that beautiful.

How happy can you be? No tell me how happy can you be? I've been racing to there. My heart beating wild. And I'm there, almost there.

Happy Independence Day

To the glory that was ours, to the glory that will be.
For freedom forever and ever.

Jai Hind.

because i want to go flying and be what i want to be

On the middle of the road a promise made long time ago.
Will have to be fulfilled.
Life always has a strange way of turning prophecies into reality.

I wasted my clothes
all the while you were out of sight.
What if I didn't see you for a hundred years
and so what if it rained all the while.

Random, random.

An observation by someone who has read a few books. No claims of it being an expert opinion.

The best of books aren't that well written towards the end. The story might end perfectly, the book may have been beautifully written throughout, the writer may be a magician of words, but some how most of them don't leave the best of words for the end. This is not to suggest that a book should peak at the last page, in fact most of my favourties did'nt have a last few lines that left me breathless.

There's this one book whose last line left me swearing (that's what I do when overwhelmed by beauty) - Train to Pakistan by Khushwant Singh.

Not that you can't predict what's going to happen at the end, just that to me the last sentence is magical. It's the most perfect last line of all the books I've ever read - " The train went over him and went on to Pakistan".

because i want to write. because i want to sleep in peace. because i want to wake up and stare at nothing and think nothing. because i want to stare at beautiful men. because i want to droole over beauty no end. because i want to scream and sing in a locked room. because i want to dance. because i want to talk to my friend. because i want to see my friend. because i want to do my wall. because i want to read that book, and that book, and that book. because i want to be wise. because i want to get back in touch with so many people that i've left behind, waiting for the right time to get in touch. because i want to love that boy. because i want to go for a loooong walk. because i want to invest some money. because i want to watch cricket. because i want to watch ' राधा की बेटियाँ कुछ कर दिखाएंगी '. because i want to ponder over my countries troubles. because i want to learn that song. because i want to be a muscle woman. because i want new running shoes. because i want to eat momos. because i want to eat chilly chicken. because i want my hair to grow real long. because i want to be a good friend. because i don't want to be scared anymore. because i want to wear the prettiest dress ever made. because i want to see a favourite actor in a new movie, soon. because i want noori to come out with a new album soon. because i want to hear from my little charming friend. because i want to know the girl next door. because i want that neighbours music. because i want to study. because i want to stare at men dammit. because i want my peace. because i want to be free. damn free.

Prithvi, Juhu, Bombay

It was the way he held her and looked at her. You'd think they were lovers, or if not lovers that he loved her. He played the uncle and she the neice. But still the way he held her said something else. The scene was about an old man trying to convince his neice, holding her and shaking her, trying to drive his sense into her, but all I could think was that this man had to be in love with her. And how was I to be wrong they were husband and wife in real life.

Half cup of lemon juice,

sheets of paper,

you,

my freedom.

Just what I deserve.

You took off for a while and all I did was stare into space. Waiting, hoping that you would come and we would together dance in that crazy corner of my head, I waited hoping that you would want to come in and then we'd play that silly game again. But you didn't want to come. And I was unhappy today.

Standing tall?

Breathe slow. Acidity in the esophagus, the young doc in the beach town had said. Don't scratch, let the mosquitoes bite. New beautiful hole to live in, you'll get used to the mosquitoes.

So happy and soooo screwed. Both at twenty two. Just kiss the wind and the new curtains, you'll be just fine. Talk to Mommy like you've never been better, you'll be just fine.

Pretty boys. Pretty you. Whoever thought you'd find yourself in a heap of clothes. But you did. La la la la. The supermodel of your own life. Whatever you wear you'll look like queen tomorrow.

Proud so proud. Looks that the only thing that can kill you is your chest bursting open. That proud. So what're you going to do? Stand that tall if the bulldozer runs over you?

I'm a hundred years old, now. Tired very tired. Been on the hold for long, very long, waiting. Yea, yea I know life doesn't stop and bla bla, but I just feel a hundred years old. Forgotten to play happy games. Can't do that thing right now. I'm too tired.

Don't tease, don't mock. I'm no good right now. Life's not a happy time for me right now.

All that I did was write harmless senseless ugly poetry. Don't tease, don't mock. Not now.

flattery by a seduced mortal soul

from sometime ago

Roses are red
violets are blue
stuck in my mind with glue
that last glimpse of you.

Roses are red
violets are blue
at twenty two all I can do
is write for you.

?

What do you do when the most beautiful thing in your life is your own hair?
What the #### do you do?

There's this man, he makes movies. I'll meet him some day. He'll look at me from behind his glasses. Not more than a glance, meaningless for all the life that he has seen. He'd have to look nevertheless. Hear my story. Imagine it in his mind, while reading it. All the while smirking at me, for the life that he has seen and knows. Because he can't but see it so well in his mind, he'll take my story. All the movies that he's ever made end in a particular way. But my movie does not end in that way, but it doesn't end in a way that he wouldn't like either. For once he'd make a movie not for himself. He'd make it for me. My story, different from his. But he'd make it, through my eyes.He will.

(Sigh)

Somewhere beyond where black and white meet to become grey. Somewhere beyond where green flows beyond control. Somewhere beyond where red paints life. Somewhere beyond where yellow colours seasons. Somewhere beyond where purple tricks shades. Somewhere beyond that nameless angry colour. There. Millions miles away, but there.