p for paradox.

"I'M SIGNIFICANT!!!…screamed the dust speck."


“Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty.

When you are lost, you are not alone.”



guess what we were all born as
mirror mirror
pieces of mirror
like parts of a larger jigsaw
reflect light
of all possible colors but white
onto our friend mirrors
to give back an image
what we want to look like
knowing very well
true us and the mirage ain’t alike.`


Encouraged by the prompt ‘Reflect’ @ Sunday ScribblingS!



those times
trying to take whatever life gave
and trying to keep everything life gave
but such clutter

waiting for the day to forget fear
and finding the order in the chaos
changing the devil to the dream-saint

when we stop thinking with the brain
and happiness is a hug
not just a bottle of champagne

when loving isn’t wanting
and whispering a thank you isn’t hard
not haunting

when alone is not lonely
but a feeling of joy
when embracing is the one and only

when two souls feel exactly the same
not say, not do, not think
like the pawns in the chess game

when we stop being bad to make a mark
and differences make us grow
and a smile glows in the dark

who said ramblings had to have a sequence

So what do you really write about when you don’t feel like contributing to the weekly linkies or no rhyme is humming through your mind and not much pessimism haunts you to resort to ‘vent out’-writing. Plus you cannot sleep. Thought of putting in some effort in archiving about the places I have visited in the last year. So a good starting point was to look at the huge database of pics and recall the vacations? Well, not exactly – just ended up spending an hour browsing through the flashback jpegs and well, smiling.

Feel like the chill in the air has subsided suddenly. Almost in a gap of a few sunrises. The winters kindof ditched the Dutch this year. Not that I had any inclination towards snowmen, though honestly I find them cute. And anyways I am happy driving to and fro office when there is still a dig at the sun. It was just yesterday when an overcoat was the second skin when stepping out. Now it feels like over-weightness. Or maybe its just me! 😀

football – europe – lounge – ‘nutrition’ and a packed stadium. super! good yesterday!

have taken up such a tough painting to work on that i almost feel like trying to pass a keep-your-cool examination. its taking ages to work on an inch of the canvas, maybe i am working too hard on it. too hard to even let the efforts show in the end.

need squash.

“there is a wind behind every one of us that takes us through our lives. We never see it, we can’t command it, we don’t even know its purpose. I would have stayed among you longer, but that wind is taking me away.”


…on the history of honesty.

Was honesty about saying the most candor things, or just not remembering the lies?
Was it about feelings, or about scoring?
Was it about the convulsion of candidness, or finding loopholes in lies?
Was it about integrity, or honor?
Was it about following the rules, or breaking them if you thought they were misleading?
Was it about being blunt, or sweet?
Was it about the benchmark of a loyal lover, or that of a kosher king?
Was it about virtue, or vice?
Was it about not lying, or not deceiving?

Was it, all along, about how honest you are with those blood cells zooming inside you, or what those people think about you?

Few days back, I read somewhere that we are living in what is called as the ‘post-truth’ era. Humanity is ignoring honesty like an old software on the pc. But how was it back then? When I wasn’t born? The time when my grandparents hadn’t even met each other. Was honesty as (un)habitual as it is now? Or maybe, the distinction between truths and tales just got dazed.

Because, as Winsty put it, it is a fine thing to be honest, but it is also very important to be right!


Encouraged by the prompt ‘Honest’ @ Sunday ScribblingS!

abstract, who me?

It’s not an unfamiliar tickle of random thoughts. When all she hears from her restless senses is to do ‘something‘. “How aimless could you get?” she blurts.

The feeling of just being a minuscule soul in the cosmos holds her back, almost seizing her thoughts. Suddenly shooting her capabilities down to a level of inept. Making her indifferent. Indifferent to the world, indifferent to herself. She is reminded of a time when she loved everything abstract – art, writings, love or just plain conversations. That was the time when abstract meant deviant. And deviant meant fun. Maybe queer. Maybe eccentric. But definitely reminding her of her(once-upon-a-time)self.

She wonders when and why do wavelengths match. Shouldn’t they just swoosh past each other and penetrate into infinity? And not take birth again in the form of trivial lessons of wisdom? Who set a benchmark for wisdom anyways? Where was the line drawn between sense and ignorance? Why did they say she is distracted when all she was, was curious. And well, who decided what sanity would look like?

The appetite for obscurity remains. The hunger for subtleness lingers. She smiles as the mind ponders over the repartees and re-repartees of life.

My inner voice says these are trivial issues. My mom, though, thinks otherwise.

Is it too abstract? Or is it just me?

Encouraged by the prompts ‘Deviant’,’Minuscule’ and ‘Trivial’ @ 3WW!


it’s art. it’s acumen. it’s adventure. and the adventure is not in knowing the place, but the new me when i return from that place. i may be a totally edited version, or a lucid form of me. but i want to be an authentic one, whichever way it is.

i want to experience the magnetism, not the glamour.

i want to encounter the emotions, not the expressions.

i want to endure the fear, not the chaos.

i want to elude the map, not the identity.

and so the search began, for a new adventure. a new place. a new me.


Encouraged by the prompt ‘Search’ @ Sunday ScribblingS!

just one wish, eh?

they say don’t think much
but tell me,
how would I wish if I did not think
and how could I have just one wish
it alters with every blink

but still I wonder
if I could have just one…
I wish I was the camera
capturing life in an era
creating experiences
with the crowd and without
zoomed in and zoomed out.

but I think more
and if it was only one I had
I wish I was the coffee mug
the best perk next to a morning hug
letting you open your eyes
to the beautiful bundle of bliss
this place called Earth is

but I have to dig harder
because its only one that I have
and I wish I was the bookrack
like years of travel in a rucksack
holding a zillion pounds of wisdom
and tales and fables
a learning that only change is stable

and then I see outside
and the inner voice reminds me I could have just one…
so I wish I could be that snow flake
falling and flowing just for existence sake
at so much peace with itself
all delicate and light
embracing the loop of life in the purity of white.

Encouraged by the prompt ‘If I could have just one wish’


doooo bee doo bee doo
yeah yeah I see you
with a beer in one hand
and your fate in another
grains of slipping sand
sitting alone totally concealed
but hey
you move with the beat in a funny way
like that scarecrow in a windy field

la la la la la
never say Hasta Manana
ços tomorrow is not there yet
life is all about today,
placing in this moment, a risky bet!
So drink with me to days gone by
hey you
yes I am talking to you
stop treating yourself like a house fly

yes I believe you can sing
life is a karaoke night
the lyrics are right in front Read more…

that couch at the Barista

Mat is my childhood friend who lives practically at the end of my street back in Country. So while passing by, she would end up ringing the bell and by default we would walk to the Barista less than half a km away. It was like I would know its her, and even before opening the door, I would change into anything else, better or worse than what I was already wearing and cruise out. But this time I got an sms from her to meet there directly as she was coming straight from her office.

So I was waiting at the same couch at the Barista. The couch which was like Forgiveness. Just deserved, not demanded. The same couch where Mat and I would sit for hours and chat or unchat, depending on the mood you see. It was located right under the corner camera which, i do not know till date, even recorded anything in the first place. But we would be like this enthralled audience watching the world navigate from one time zone to another.
As I settled myself at ease, crinkling the paper tissue in my hand, the regular barista behind the counter realises I am waiting for my company. So he gets me the ‘usual’. We sometimes were lucky to be served. In a self-service place? Wow, the little pleasures of life!

It was a normal evening. Various species of couples with the typical three options of expressions.
First, when they are both looking into each others eyes and give a damn to the latte sitting just next to them, demanding the tasty attention, but ignored. Disrespectful, I say.
Second, when they are both looking at totally different things. The guy’s eyeballs taking a detour at the chick behind the counter and the lady’s eyeballs navigating vehemently at a trendy hidesign purse relaxing at the other corner of the cafe. No, the Louis Vuitton types did not really come to that cafe. And well, boring situation I say.
Third, when both of them are looking at the same thing, together. Maybe at the crossword in the newspaper or the malnourished kid polishing shoes outside the Barista. True love, I say.

Anyways, so I get a bit restless now waiting for my true coffee buddy. Its pretty much simple. The foundation of our friendship was the love of coffee (and well, the disastrous attempts at morning jog). But it grew stronger as we mutually started demanding the company of the coffee connoisseur in each of us. Don’t get me wrong. We are ‘just friends’, with our respective love lives in parallel universe, which could be one of the topics of conversation at the couch, only if we were done with our plans of starting our own cafe, or traveling the world or well, trying out that new kebab place.

Waiting in premonition, I look at the watch and realize its been almost 7 minutes past our rendezvous time. So I get impatient enough to call her. Surprise surprise! The message I received from her today was actually a day old. Thanks to the pathetic ‘express yourself’ telecom network, it reached its destination (read me) almost 24 hours late. Mat and I started giggling on the phone as our voices crinkled. And because I had not replied a day before, she had done what I was doing here today.

Exploiting the license to have another cuppa koffie, with oneself.

Encouraged by Three Word Wednesday

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