Upon Dreams and Thoughts

Today is August 15th, 2016. India, the country, celebrates her 70th birthday. Of course, it is my firm (uneducated, uninformed, bigoted – to use the terms en vogue for folks such as ourselves) belief that India the civilisation can’t be dated. Anyway, each year on this day, everyone and their uncles start harping about the…

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Winter in the City

Here’s something I had written earlier, forgotten about completely, and rediscovered recently. Since summer is still marauding us these days, I think publishing a poem about winter still makes sense. After all, aren’t we all in a perpetual yearning for the beautiful days of the past or the beautiful days of tomorrow? Aren’t we all…

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Suddenly in the Midst of Summer

Today marks the anniversary of this blog. Today is also the festival of Holi, the Hindu festival of colour and Spring. This year, though, the festivities will be a shade calmer: the sudden cool prevalent over much of India will prevent many from indulging in the usual wild splashing and watering of people, emotions, and…

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All Vacations Must End

At times, your words don’t come from you. They are too powerful to belong to one voice, their meaning too deep for one tale. Recently, I uttered some of this sort. They were said to someone I know in a jovial tone, without much thought gone in their formation. And yet, when I reflected on…

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Ghosts

The last post might have led you to believe that I am quite bitter at the end of the year. But that’s not entirely true! The end of any particular thing makes me quite emotional and vulnerable, and Nostalgia rather frequently gathers its dark clouds and pours forth memories and miseries in a storm I…

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Intermittent

The Bombay suburban trains – colloquially referred to as the ‘locals’ – are a fascinating experience. A strange, harmonious-amidst-chaos world in this city that is little-harmony-amidst-massive-chaos. They are a legend unto themselves, an embodiment of this city, a symbol of its liveliness, anarchy, and beauty, an icon. Maybe it is the innate desire for journeys…

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Her

Shakespeare once wrote a play that he couldn’t name. Ultimately, he went with ‘As You Like It’, leaving his audience to name and interpret what they saw the way the saw fit. Now, yours truly is humble enough to recognise he’s no Shakespeare, or even comes close. But he was in a quandary quite similar…

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There She Stands

Hello world! I believe I can justifiably say that, for I’ve been missing from this blog for the longest time – over a 100 days, WordPress tells me. During this, boy has a lot happened, most of which I wanted to write about here. But for reasons best known to Reason, I couldn’t. And then, suddenly,…

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Nothing

I don’t know whether there is a method in madness or not, but there sure is a bit of divinity in it. In fact, in that state of existence, when we are at our most primeval self, we are closest to all that is good in us, all that the Maker put in, and all…

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Longing

There’s something to be said about sadness – it brings out some rather vivid creativity from within. I don’t know what the reason or the relation is, but it sure is something that I’m sure most of us have, at some point or the other, experienced. This is the product of one such experience of…

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Tonight

In returning to poems after a while, here’s a poem that I made up today while staring at this white screen. I hope you’ll like it…

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Rubble

This is how André Breton, the “founder” of Surrealism, defined it: “Pure psychic automatism, by which one proposes to express, either verbally, in writing, or by any other manner, the real functioning of thought. Dictation of thought in the absence of all control exercised by reason, outside of all aesthetic and moral preoccupation.” A day…

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