Why

“The world is a terrible place.” She said taking a severe gulp off the clear green beer bottle dangling loosely off her hands and moving side to side between her knees.
His fingers still deeply engrossed in rubbing that delicate bit of paper filled with preciousness in the center, he looked up half way and smiled.

She assumed an offbeat crawl and went over to him. Her dark curls fell wildly over her face and she was clad in the most masculine t-shirts that revealed a sensitive shade of pink underneath, when she crawled.
“Nobody understands you.” She lit a cigarette dramatically.
He licked the rim of the paper and rolled it to ultimate perfection. The fragrant joint glowed between his lips and a vast mist of smoke covered his vision of her face. He took the cigarette from her hand and placed the joint within the soft horizon of her mouth.
“Nobody understands you.” She nestled into his strong strong chest and he wrapped his arms around her.
“But you do right?” He looked down at her face, so low that it almost looked like his eyes were closed.
“Nope!” The joint switched hands. He shook his head and let out a smile.

They swayed from side to side as the music became more pronounced in her world.
“Why is she singing so loud?” She said twitching her face to a strange contortion and putting her hands over her ears childishly.
“Who?”
She raised her eye-brows in response.
“Who?” He screamed.
“She. You know how I love her. Her voice is like silk." She paused. “Or used to be.”
“I am sure but I don’t hear her.”
She laughed wildly, throwing her head back. He traced his fingers over the smooth contours of her neck.
“Wow! I love your neck. It is so beautiful.”

She smiled, took his hand and got up from the floor. She swayed to the music and walked over to the low redwood table. She stood up on it and called him towards her. She started dancing. He walked over to her, pulled her towards him and rested his head under her heart. She held him so close. There was not a pore, not a molecule of air between them.
“Do you wanna dance?”
He had never danced on a table before. She could have, but this was her first too.

There was a haze of an earthy intoxicating scent around them. Yes, it was still glowing and taking turns between their lips.
He drew her close to him and they moved in the most lyrical dance ever.
“Do you hear the music?” She asked.
“No.”
“Do you know why you love me.
“No.”
“Do you know why I love you?
“Why?”
She leaned in and whispered into his ears, “Because…”

These days I get depressed just waking up in the morning and things get better by night. Right now I feel I will never be able to like NYC or life here. I feel stupid. I feel lonely. I miss my life in India.

She's got no music on her ipod. No money in her jeans. Just a bag full of memories and a lover she cannot see. She is not a hippie. She is not a tramp. She is not any ordinary girl. She has a hole in her sandal 'cause she likes to taste the earth beneath. She's probably worth a million bucks that she ain't ever seen.

It's another thing that she will not speak, she's got a spindle for a steering wheel. If you look behind her speedy wagon, you will see her stories billowing in the wind. She has no religion, just legends lingering down her long hair.

No road maps, just gut. No blinkers, just the mind. No whisper, no sweet sigh, just grunts of struggle. Swift, determined, masculine rhythm of the feet. Ain't she the most beautiful things? Mud covered and fiery with fervour.

The Post-coital Cigarette

There is nothing like a post-coital cigarette. Nothing envelops you in a more comforting embrace, not even the man next to you. And, it eases your journey back to earth in its charming haze. So it doesn’t matter whether he lights up first or you do, it is most essential to save it from the other set of greedy eyes and dedicate every drag to your very own solo cigarette. The sharing must not extend beyond the laboured love-juices. That's a rule. Because every cigarette speaks to you and the post-coital ones, specifically, have a mind of their own and are demanding when it comes to individual attention. So it can assume the role of the faceless agony aunt, a friend, the knock-some-sense-into-your-head sister, a potential lover or in short it possibly is the best virgin whore you’d ever come across. This makes me wonder if the post-coital cigarette is at all the “post-coital cigarette” or is it coitus itself. You may lose yourself with it or maybe just find yourself. But the post-coital cigarette truly lends itself beyond a concept or a cliché. It is the one guaranteed good thing, whether after a total downer or a complete jackpot. My vote goes for the post-coital cigarette and its dynamism.

From what I was to what I will be

The anticipation of change has engulfed me in its rough-uncertain clutches. From what I'll leave behind to what lies ahead - a big gorge lying before my feet. Right now, I am just kicking stones from the edge and engaging in an eccentric metaphoric calculations of the worst. I must take the big leap. Only in hope of something better. And let me tell you, change is always better, irrespective of its final outcome. And it is hard for someone like me, who in the deepest darkest corners of the mind shits bricks just thinking of change. But like they say, once you've done it, it never really seems like such a big deal. It's like a video game where I've just got through level one and I know not what level two holds for me. So why try to anticipate what lies ahead? It's a futile exercise that broadly has two ways to go - Either I get to level three or I don't. Worst case we can all start over again. After all, it's all but a game.

Truth and dreams

She stood there by the window, looking out at the little school children walking back home with their mothers. This scene had never moved her as much as it did then. She was unaware of these feelings, until that day. She felt a tug, a lump in her throat and doubt clouded her mind. She remembered the day they made love. It was not tender. It was psychedelic and passionate. They had smoked hash all morning and remained in a state of constant daze. They smoked the same joint but reveled in their own private spaces. Until the time she and him couldn't sit apart, couldn't be untangled from an embrace. What followed was a wild orgy of feelings, a mad rush, a splatter of vivid colours and the attainment of that corner of darkness that shines like light.

But once the daze wore off, once they both hit life's relentless treadmill again, she and him never believed in the truth of that night. She never believed she could have an out-of-body experience. She never believed it was possible for souls to connect in such a deep fashion. She never believed something could be so purely good. They, never believed it happened.

She blinked as she was woken from her thoughts by the ringing noise of the phone. She looked away from the little girls holding their mother's hands. She paused before the telephone and then she answered in one quick move. She said, "Hello doctor. Yes, I shall be there to terminate the pregnancy." She hung up.

You are searching

The more and more I grow up, the more the futility strikes me.
While sometimes I am basking in the glory of life, sometimes it all just falls flat.
I don't need much, but a purpose and love. But then again, is that enough?
I have memories of my childhood and memories otherwise. Traveling through the few years, I am who I am. It is so funny that it is history that fills us up with meaning, and then it is history that makes us so empty. I can be no other, nothing better. Nothing worse.
And then sometimes I think we're all lost. We're all wandering aimlessly with the false notion of an elevated existence. Our life is only about an interaction with the fellowmen. Guilty of desiring more, we are doomed collectively.
I know sometimes this feeling grows more intense and I start questioning my existence. It is a matter of minutes to choose to fall on the other side of the wall. But what grips my feet to this ground, is the fear. The immense fear of the unknown. Is that such a good thing after all?
It won't be quite untrue if I said it never struck me that this could all be a dream and our real lives lie beyond this point. It shakes me up completely. It is like that feeling when you look in the mirror and for a second, yes for second on the clock, you can separate your body from your
soul.
So then why is it that we run so hard towards God-knows-what? What makes us any better than the penniless wanderer down in the streets? What are we really? Where are we at? Dead or alive? We don't know.

Page

It lies blank before my eyes.
And then I see a shade of green.
Quite like the colour of rot, absolute decay.
Then it turns blue, like the veins peeping through my skin.
And in a minute it is red.
Dark and patchy, patterns of blotched blood.
Iridescent now, psychedelically spread.
Then again it turns blank.
Is it there? I no not.
What is real? I no not.
The colours or the page.

Apologies to everyone

Apologies to everyone that I exist.
Apologies, I dare to breathe off key.
Apologies that I lambaste rational and flout logic.
I didn't choose to muse the virgin passion hiding within emotions.
In denial, guilty of blasphemy - I know in a clandestine moment
my creators have questioned my being.

I got the balance all wrong.
I didn't understand the equation,
I am sorry I didn't choose to be like this.
I don't know who to blame or who to thank for a springtime mishap.
It spreads across my forehead,
in words more than it can hold.
Rubbish, rag, unfit, evil and demonic to a large extent.
I am not a fish out of water, I am just the fish who tried the fly.

I am guilty of existing, of being inadequate to rhyme.
The constant tussle between Me and how Me should be,
has left me battered.
The easy road is the one that leads to redemption
and the tough one leaves me back here.
It is a matter of seven days and I'd crawl back to my dungeon.
Yes, the same one where legends remain along with the corpse
of the past.
I am nobody's friend, nobody's daughter, nobody's sister
and nobody's lover.
I am a monster in a human jacket and the show will be off soon.