Musings

I like to think I can write
And
I can.
I can write on
And on
Until my pain ebbs
like the tide of my sea

My heart storms
Clouding my head and
Raining down
Tears
From me
The words flow – likewise
Hot and hateful
Passionately painful.

Till exhausted with emotion
I clock down four minutes passed.
I lay down my pen
I have written.
Yes.
I can write.

4th April. ’05
00.01 am

Songs of the Heart

Measuring life out by Sundays.
Fundays spent with you.

Without, I drift.
As the stars go out in the sky of my heart.

You touched my heart.
And made me sing.


26th Sept. ’04
12.32 pm

Coming Home

I’ve scoffed at it
Thought I knew it all
Knew
That I would never give in to this feeling again.
What child’s play !

Now again I think
This is it !
But what is it ?
Really ?
I don’t know.

I do know though
That I can’t explain.
Can’t explain
How it feels when you look
At me
Call me
Put out your hand
Touch my face
And then you place your hand
On my head
That’s it !
Now I know !
It feels like
Coming home….

12th Sept. ’04
9.44 pm

No Escape Either Way

Close upon four days. Actually approximately twenty-one minutes shy of four days since my steely resolve not to wallow in the all too soothing depressive nectar – tears.
All fond remembrances, fears and doubts of the future that keep cropping up in this self-imposed amniotic world elicits signs of downpour – trembling lips wobbling chin, moist eyes and quavering voice – man at his ugliest of utter despair – before he can sink into the welcoming pain. Surrender to the lump in his heart, rising up now to his throat while the difficulty of swallowing almost teases him with the idea of a welcome death.

Till with long drawn out breath, he gasps, either fighting the urge to succumb or gives in and lingers on the pain. No escape. Either way.

11th Sept. ’04 (9.04 pm)

Psychological Morbidity

Three near-flawless pieces every ten minutes. Funny how despair – all rotting, life blood draining – has the power to create.

To create “bookshelf” pieces; to be picked up casually and flipped through; to be pronounced heavenly or hideous; and then to be stored away for intellectual flouting. Power of praised and expertise of word-culling and placing commended.
Source of such, No matter.
This is all psychological morbidity of a literary nature.
Now doesn’t this all sound grand ?
Where did you read for your Degree ?

11th Sept. ’04
9.15 pm

See-Saw

See-sawed on life’s balance
With cooling beliefs
I recall,

Tentative exploring of mind and soul
As scales dip and up down -
Measures of bliss immeasurable.
That feeling of a heart’s belonging –
No questions asked.
Safe from all giddying falls.

Then suddenly heights
Plunge
Rushing down to encounter
Numbing
Pain
Which all but numbs
And all entreaties yield
A heart
Torn out
And left to sail on
Fancy’s see-saw

11th Sept. ’04
8.54 pm

Another Another

The awful ache of being there; mutely aware of the world around you. Lost in loud oblivion. It makes you weep to see the setting sun’s rays high up on a tree. Children play while the world shuts down around them; stealing moments from their happiness. The lonely light in the vast settling twilight; the house barred against the coming night and you are left on the outside, looking in on the world.

Somewhere in the house a teaspoon’s tinkling promises sanity - peaceful brew, antidote to my heart’s death; the bitter ache of a manless home and window-fastening women. Who will brave yet another. Another day.


11th Sept. ’04
8.44 pm

Neither here nor there

The new hair-do makes me look younger and I’m glad I invested in the hair mousse. If I just wake up a few minutes earlier I can manage to style my hair and turn up at office looking (if not feeling) as civilized as the others.

I should practice smiling more though. I think it will help me look a bit more approachable and will definitely ward off the effect of the gathering years.

And maybe I should invest in some well sewn kurtas. Might help me look the part. 29 year old successful single city girl. I’m neither here nor there. Not exactly old but certainly don’t feel young.

I like the fit that Indian tailor gets, even though he is slightly expensive. I wonder if someone can copy his fit. Someone a bit less expensive.

Today’s lunch was sumptious. The beach was beautiful. The crowd was great. I actually managed to relax and be witty and talkative.

If I take the laptop home I can watch a movie tonight. I want to save the movies for the weekend though. Will help pass the time.

On the other hand it would be good to go home and see mama. I can collect the giveaways as well. Looks like the trip is going to be pretty costly. I wish I’d been more careful with my spending now. The whole hair-do and stuff. I feel sick when I think of the dinner treat and the night of partying. Today’s lunch was another killer. I could do so much with that money.

I wish I had checked out prices of coloring books, exercise books and color pencils and stuff. I’m sure they can use them their. I know I used to love coloring when I wanted an escape.

Now I look at the house and the bills and my stuff and I feel sick. Where will I wear all those shoes and clothes to? They will never fit in. they will never sit well on me.
A different me. A slightly darker me – who has to walk because that’s the only way to get about.
A slightly shyer me – there is no avoiding their penetrating looks. They know they have the power to make me afraid. I am afraid.
A slightly rougher me – fancy hair-do’s and creams and mousses are things that will never go down on my shopping list
A slightly smaller me – the gnaw of hunger is a bit too constant to have to worry about putting on weight
A slightly harder me – I never had much expectations in life. I got married so I wouldn’t be alone. I hardly even knew my husband before they killed him.

I often sift through my phone looking for someone to call. Longing for company
I long for my own company
I am elated and defeated. I am energized and tired out
I think I know but I don’t know how
I feel I’m neither here nor there...

29th Nov 07
8.08pm