It’s quiet up here.
Filled with things no one wanted.
Things left behind.
A forgotten suitcase of abandoned memories.
It’s quiet up here.
Pretty words.Vagabond words. Dreamy words. Stubborn words. Bright, rambling words. Wandering words. Light, luminous words — I’m hostage to your magic.
I vividly recall one of my first acts of exercising my monetary independence — buying books, a little guiltily, at the second-hand sale that would be held bi-annually at the YMCA near the Deccan Chronicle office. Oh that incredibly dusty wonderland, smelling of old pages and forgotten corners. Where rare literary first editions with disintegrating spines and fading gold letters on black leather nonchalantly hang out with the seven-ways-your-life-could-be-betters whose book covers had threatening closeups of American authors with eerily white teeth and accusatory fingers pointing at you for not being successful enough. Where outdated coffee-table books shared space with a lovely section dedicated to Indian writing. Where the passion-stricken couples on the romance novels with flowery fonts ignored the wry satirical novelists on the shelves next to them. Where comic strip geniuses like Charles M Schulz, Berkeley Breathed Cathy Guisewite, Jeff Shesol and Jim Davis were relegated to the children’s sections because, you know… cartoons!
Travelling around India over the past few years, gave me the opportunity to witness a ton of sunsets. A bunch of sunrises too, but then you know how lazy I could get sometimes, especially when I have to wake up early in the morning. I’ve wintnessed sunsets at Jammu & Kashmir, Kanyakumari, Arunachal Pradesh and Goa. That basically takes care of North, South, East and West. Okay, maybe I need to witness a sunset at Gujarat, then I would be able to tick off the Extreme West. Bottom line is, I’ve seen a ton of sunsets, and I’ve put them all here for your viewing pleasure, in no particular order, with a short snippet of each evening.
She sits down. Feet crossed, palms on her thighs. He stood beside the seat, looking down on her petite form, thinking how she looked like a tiny, injured bird. Graceful, fragile and troubled. He wanted to pick up all the broken parts of her and sew it together.
Afternoon shiftlessness. A lull. Slow boats to somewhere. Languor strikes. Lovely memories of Sunday meals so heavy. And tummy pains after. Magazines leisurely pored through. Or boring reruns endured. Absolute stillness. Oranges peeled. Dreams flirt with heavy eyelids.
Let’s face it, it’s just very rewarding to start a New Year with a spanking new list of Things To Do. It makes your life seem so much more like the beginning of a feel-good rom-com than not. So, let’s go make that list! But let’s instead cut the inspirational and motivational and life-changing baloney and set some satisfying short-term goals, or tasks rather, for ourselves, that are easy to achieve, are highly joy-inducing and will never ever make you feel like a letdown.
There’s a certain emotion that my soul wells up with everytime I see a place I’ve never seen before. And I’m not just talking about stumbling upon some virgin waterfalls in the middle of nowhere or standing atop an awe-inspiring cliff that makes you feel like you are at the edge of the universe.
Sometimes, I’m not here. When you are talking to me, watching my expressions change on cue with every word you say, I’m not here. I’m listening, but I’m not here.
There was just light and a bellowing sound.
Nothing else, not even a void, was around.
No mortal flesh, tainted and ugly.
No scars. No wars.