Hello Again

~Many apologies for the sudden disappearance.
I've been hospitalized and consequently trying to recover.~

~Happy New Year's All.~



I have very rarely ever won anything. Nothing that involves luck and nothing that involves talent.

It comes as a shock, that I won a thousand bucks in Dumb Charades.

A Thousand Bucks, for my abysmal acting skills.

Signing Out,
Not Knowing What To Say


Animation, Anybody?

My first attempt at Stop Motion Animation

And hopefully, one that will allow me to become a better photographer :)

Signing Out,
Ze Animator


Heartaches By The Number

What happens is, that people generally get together once a year to sing "Jolly Good Fellow" for this one person who they have made their friend and confidante. They throw in some party hats, cake, good times and gifts, on the side. And this here thing is known as a Birthday.

When my friends have this thing coming up, I generally do a lot to make it special. I usually do good. I think I made a mistake there.

Now, I had one of these things too. And I was pretty excited, yes I was.

But I think my friends didn't quite get the memo on that. There was no love and no cheer. Not a single smiling face till I bribed them with chocolate cakes to look awake. They even went through all the trouble of falling asleep in the restaurant. Did I mention, they decided I'm all off a sudden too old for gifts? They say they'll do better from now on. I know they won't even try.

I shouldn't rant about it really, but they wont even read this post so I may as well.

But then again, some of you reading this tried everything you could do under the circumstances. You know, you're the best. People are awfully lucky to have you in their lives.

Signing Out,
Severely Disappointed.


The Mind Is A Dangerous Place

After days of pining for my photoshop to come back, this is what I make.

Dominatrix Fantasies, anyone?

(Click For a Larger View)

Signing Out,


A Step Ahead

As of last Sunday, I have working as an Executive Editor for N.O.W. Magazine (Also here). It's about 3 issues old and shows potential.

It's been started by Samarth Chandola, under a company called The Creative Quill.

A step ahead for my dream of becoming a columnist. :)

Signing Out,
Executive Editor :D

P.S. Do become fans/followers. The Editor in Chief is Total Despot and is using my darling blog to publicize the magazine.


Someday, I want

1. To drive a big yellow truck.

2. To live in a little place like this, where the only sign of civilization exists in the chugging of a toy train every morning.

3. Look out of my window every night and be greeted with a epileptic display of lights and sounds.

4. To be caught in time, framed and captured like the morning dew resting on the veins of life.

5. To craft a story of two slightly eccentric souls clicking incessant photographs of ramshackle building and rusted staircases. Forever, together.

Signing Out,
One Eccentric Soul


Say Cheese!

Bhura says hello.

And so do the fiery glasses from Indian Coffee House. ;)

Signing Out,
May I Click You?


Squirrels Are Funny Things

The canteen usually makes good food, but today it was uninspired crap. I say this after having eaten the most uninspired food dishes ever, so you can imagine how bad it was. Anyway, after heroically finishing most of it, I set the plate aside only to have a squirrel come up and grab a few grains of rice. Being a nice person and confessedly in love with all things animal, I and my friend moved a little away from the dish to let the squirrel have a bit more to eat.

15 minutes later, the squirrel was still eating. I was surprised at its appetite but assumed it hadn't had much to eat in many days. When half an hour later, it was still at it and two other squirrels were looking at him in a rather annoyed manner, I was sure this squirrel was dying of gluttony, very soon. Death by Rajma Chawal, finally.

And I imagine the following conversation will happen among his part Anglo-Saxon, part British and part Punjabi brethren:

(The Unfeeling Aunty): Oh dear, 'twas so unexpected.
(The Condescending Fool): Indeed sire, he was such an engaging squirrel to keep company with.
(The Honest-To-God Uncle): But saarji, he was being glutton. Me and his parjayiji also get free food. We do not eat much.
(The Parjayiji): Yes, my lord. We do not even have those middle class paunches that everybody else sports.
(The Mother): But we are meant to eat free food! All of it! *sobs*
(The Annoying Relative): Toh ji, we get shoes thrown at us for free ji. We toh don't stay to eat.
(The Mother): *Sobs More*
(The Father): Pappu ki Mother, control yourself. Let us remember him in all his furriness.
(Pappu's Ghost): Bai God ji, 'twas the most exquisite meal I have been fortunate enough to sup on.

Signing Out,
Feeling Squirrely.


Just For Today

Just for today, Cummings makes more sense than ever before. Thank you kind sir, for writing emotions and poetry. Every purple brain is brimming with love and appreciation.

Love is more thicker than forget
More thinner than recall
More seldom than a wave is wet
More frequent than to fail

It is more mad and moonly
And less it shall be
Than all the sea which only
Is deeper than the sea

Love is less always than to win
Less never than alive
Less bigger than the least begin
Less littler than forgive

It is most sane and sunly
And more it cannot die
Than all the sky which only
Is higher than the sky

-E.E. Cummings


Tara, T, Alice, Buck.

"The United States of Tara has been written by Diablo Cody and produced by Steven Spielberg."

Immediate attention, that is exactly what this sentence deserved from my side. A few minutes later, I was scrolling through the wikipedia entry on the show and a week later, I had with me the whole of the first season. Five episodes down, the show has me hooked.

Shows based on psychology have always been a hot favourite of mine, but this is something different. Written with stinging wit and slightly profane humour, the show balls itself into one's heart. Tara has Dissociative Identity Disorder (better known as multiple personality disorder) which gives her different personalities or alter-egos in times of stress. While an almost negligible amount of audience would have encountered the disorder, Cody's thinking behind stringing together our modern life with DID is brilliant.

After all, how many of us have felt absolutely helpless in a situation, only to force a facet of us out to keep everything running smoothly? I'm guessing many. The transition between personalities is so effortless in the show, that you feel Tara could just be faking it for effect. But nothing about the characters seems staged in any manner. I honestly thought that Tara would be such a focal point of the show that the rest of her family would seem like props. At which point, the daughter-son duo showed in intricate detail the patience and trials of living life. This was matched perfectly by the husband, whose eyes seem to be the only indication of the anguish he at time feels.

The United States of Tara is an intelligent show to watch, acting like a two way mirror. You look at Tara's life from behind and slowly reflect on your own on the inside.

Signing Out,
Purple Brains


Them Things They Call Fests

Overheard, read, gmail chatted during the times of our 'beloved' college institution, the Fest.

"Cancel the fest? Which idiot wants the fest cancelled?"
"Arre, no problem ma'am, aap tension mat lo"
"I love you! I love you! Marry me!"
"JJ. Phirse."
"MTM. Phirse."
"Koi paise dene koi ready hi nahi hai. Kaise se log hain. Main hi 5000 de deti hun."

"Fest. Pest more like."
"Cancel this stupid fest!"
"I love you. Kill me please."
"Mujhe toh vella samjha hua hai naa?"
"Oh-My-God, yeh kya bakwaas hai?"
"Wake me up when september ends"
"Squeeze whatever is left out of me"
"Paise kiske paas hain? Koi paisa hi nahi deta! 5000 toh main de deti hun"
"Why on earth will i want to publicise only a damned debate when i have an entire page in a magazine??!!!"
"Main nahaa sakti hun?"
"Photoshop, aur kya?/Media lab, aur kahan?"

"Yeh kya bakwaas hai. Agle saal se hum kuch nahi karenge"
"Saara kaam maine kiya tha."
"Uffo. I want to die!"
"Par kitna mazaa aaya tha naa?"

Inputs from me and my friends from both IP College and Kamala Nehru College. May MTM and JJ both be roaring successes. Or something like that.

Signing Out,
Stupid Fests


Bittersweet Memories - II

As said by Aldous Huxley,

"One of the principal functions of a friend is to suffer (in a milder and more symbolic form) the punishments that we should like, but are unable, to inflict upon our enemies."

I love my college friends, but I now know that it is simply impossible for me to put up with all of them five days in a row. I'm sure they feel the same. To worsen things, six of us were crammed in one room. We had our good times talking about ghosts and watching fat people vibrate on TV. We had our laughs over certain style statements attempted and thwarted. We screamed and shouted our lungs out sometimes with happiness and other times with a deep hatred. We even fought over the bathroom and the beds. Among all of this, I see the truth behind being us. We adore each other in a way that others can't quite understand.

This is a friendship quite undefinable. We're there for each other, you know. Just there. Like it was meant for us to be. It took us five days in a bus to know that.

And also, Hotel Asia The Dawn SUCKS! Do not go there, unless you plan to stay inside the hotel only for the food. Somehow, the food was quite delicious.

Signing Out,
Remembering Shimla.

Bittersweet Memories - I

Shimla came as a surprise to me. With all my hopes and expectations, it still managed to change a lot of things. Things I've forever taken for granted in a way. It felt like the hesitant shock one manages when their elderly neighbour, known yet a stranger in many ways, dies one summer morning. It's been difficult to accept what all has changed, but with the memories I work my way through.

To start with, the planned part of the trip was pretty much crap, which spoke volumes about how much we have started to crave being able to make our own decisions. The one time we left the hotel without any supervision, did we have the most fun. Wandering about Himachal University, the misty lanes gave the campus a very other wordly feel.

I was pretty much ready to stay there and possibly come back for my PG. The one thing I noticed first off was that it is more inviting than any other campus area I've been to. Maybe it was the sweet people or the wonderful gravelly paths crunching away in my ear. Trees rose out of nowhere from the surrounding rocks to cast twisted shadows on a sundial. A crest of arms sparkled in the little patch of sunlight, while birds bravely struck up their morning banter to entertain us. Rocky outcrops and secluded stairwells created the most romantic melancholy I have known. Painting a melody of enchanting visuals, every nook and cranny of the rolling hills, including that murderous-suicidal cow has me hooked on forever. In a way, I promised to come back and I shall fulfill it soon. It's only during the impromptu trek that we undertook did I realize I would not survive the walking that Shimla required from its admirers.

Mall Road is like an inky drawing on a roughly hewn canvas. Emotions and memories have spilled over and the lines between friends and enemies have been blurred. I fear that boundaries that we had maintained so carefully have been lost between the small blurry motions of the hand. Is it possible that one little market could have changed everything? For now, the answer is yes.




I have so much to say about Shimla. Its akin to being a jar filled with cookies to the very top and being afraid of cracking even one of them if the lid is put on. I'm not quite sure how long I can stay like this.

But my circumstances are such. Father has departed to Lucknow for a while, my laptop in tow. I share this post from the college internet cafe, which is the last place I would choose to share my soul. However, this was an emergency. The girls on the side keeping peeking in till their facebook pages load completely. One even frowns as she sees me type this. That should be her lesson for being a peeping tom.

Now, I have managed to scavenge my old laptop from the dungeons of my garage. It's been dusted and all now and I believe should start working soon. The internet dude says that it doesn't have enough disk space to configure the internet connection though. Still, the laptop has its share of good memories and Pinball games to tide me through. I think I shall type out a post on it and upload it via pen drive and internet cafe.

Signing Out,
Less Than Cheery.


Happy Birthday Blog

As of 24 July 2009, My Purple Brains turned a year old and reached 100 posts.

And I forgot about it.

Happy Birthday my darling blog, you've made me a wiser person.

Signing Out,
Birthday Blogger


Bas Dilli Meri Jaan

By all accounts, Delhi is a beautiful place. If you can look past the initial cow dung and garbage every step of the way, you'll find tidbits that will haunt you till eternity and beyond. Whether it's the nostalgic facades of houses tucked away in Chandni Chowk or the supposedly ghost infested, broken down brothel near my college, Dilli pulls you in.

It's those days when it rains, that I fall in love more and more. New York and London might have Rockerfeller Centre and The Big Ben, but we have Connaught Place for all to see. Walking the by lanes of CP in the rain is a pleasure I have known seldom before. The cozy dhaba where we frequent becomes all the more welcoming. The first time I saw proper punk graffiti on a wall became all the more exciting. Best of all, getting my jeans soaked seemed all the more necessary.

It's the little things that capture my love and keep it sewn in a small velvet pouch. One that is tucked away at the very core of my heartstrings and draws at them every now and then. A Gurudwara never was so beautiful, till I see it through the lens of my camera. The clouds were just puffy shapes in the sky till I noticed them moving above my office building. I was just another girl on the streets till I started looking and feeling.

It's Dilli and only Dilli I can thank for that.

Signing Out,
Dilli Waali


The Sad Part Was...

It's a rare day that somebody else’s conversation in the metro is interesting enough to break me out my reverie. Eavesdropping isn’t the best pass time in the metro but some stories warrant it. Today was one of those days.

One man, talking to his friend and describing in detail how his fathers ancestral property was going to be torn in three tomorrow. His father had spent some 40 odd years growing the perfect orchards and fields for his grandchildren to come and play in. His dying wish had been to either preserve the orchards or donate them to the village. His sons have done neither. The stipulated break up of the property will divide those beautiful trees and memories between the three brothers and one sister. The man recited this with close to no emotion on his face. His features were remarkably soft and calm for somebody feeling so exasperated with his circumstances.

He sighed once and came out one sentence that described his sadness exquisitely. He said, “Aur kisi ne kuch kaha bhi nahi”. It's sad when children will not even stand against the destruction of their fathers dream. The last thing I heard him say was that he would give up his entire share to be able to look after those orchards.

The sad part was, I couldn’t even tell him to go for it.

Signing Out,
Purple Brains


I am almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a person you would describe as beautiful.


The Rain

For the past week, it's been raining every night.

The first night: I was still up at 2 in the morning and I heard the rain come down. It knocked softly on the door, waiting impatiently as I realized my towel must be getting soaked outside. I ran outside, only to have the rain drench me in a matter of seconds. There's nothing better than that feeling. The towel kept on getting soaked. As I tried taking it off the wire, it kept on getting twisted and tangled. One would have the impression that it wanted to stay out longer and enjoy. Later on, we had a fight about who had more fun. I let the towel win.

The second night: The rain was down to a drizzle but I was not discouraged. Stayed out longer, for almost an hour, looking at the lightning. Mom told me twice to come back inside. She was sure that I'd be struck by lightning any moment. I told her there was nothing to worry about, I'm too far from the sky. Also, it was pink and purple. Have your ever known something pink and purple to harm somebody?

The third night: Just lightning and intermittent spurts of rain. Beautiful nonetheless.

The fourth night: Back, to stay. The roof flooded, the plants threw a pool party and I ended up looking like a sponge drowned in water. All the rain and sweat gave my hair beautiful curls when I woke up in the morning though. It's a pity i had to wash them away. The clothes wanted to stop all the late night water fun. They said it's difficult for them to dry off every day, even with the heat.

Signing Out,



Thanks to ad-libber and Doubletake, Doublethink , I start a post about my GHM.

The Georgette Heyer Man (GHM for short) is a tall, loose-limbed, cynic with unruly hair and quite unremarkable features except for a smile that transforms his face. And yes, the eyes. Usually a queer light grey, very bored, but with a sparkle that comes out with the smile. He is well-travelled and well-read, and about ten years older than the heroine. He is, by turns, a rake, a social outcast, a diffident aristocrat, a jaded Corinthian, a reluctant saviour – it doesn’t matter. The problem with the GHM is that he’s poison for a girl who routinely falls in love with literary characters, and if he enters her life at the right moment he can very easily make sure that the girl’s teenage years are wasted in daydreams about older men with careless demeanours and sardonic voices.

Right then, I'm starting a meme (muahahhaha). Anyone who has ever fallen in love with her version of the GHM, I tag you. Write a post, it doesn't have to be very big, about that person – literary character, comic book hero, some guy in a movie, a random person you'll never meet – we’ll start a list that will probably never end.

My GHM are actually four.

First, he came into my life at the extremely impressionable age of 12 years old and since has been a criteria for how I like my men. Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice fame.
  • He can dance
  • sing,
  • reads an overwhelming amount of books,
  • sneers and is sarcastic,
  • is a proper englishman with good english
  • writes letters to express his love. What more could I want?
Second came Chandler Bing and made my mum sincerely worry about my taste in men. He is the perfect GHM for my innate Monica.
  • He's sarcastic, stupid and needs a Monica
  • A monogamist because of commitment phobia
  • gives really bad advice
  • cute
  • And let's face it. You could spend your life with him.
Thirdly, the typical Irish character created by Eoin Colfer in every one of his books. Especially Artemis Fowl and Stefan. Artemis Fowl inspires me to be intelligent.

Fourth and the last, Dr. Horrible in Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog. He's recent and very easy to adore.
  • Neil Patrick Harris playing the character,
  • an acute sense of humour and sarcasm
  • an evil scientist who sings and videoblogs
  • absolutely in love with one single female
There, I'm done. In all possibilty, I'll never actually find my GHM's but hope abounds.

To whoever reads this post, I urge you to do one about your GHM. For guys, your version of the lady GHM. And no Angelina Jolie allowed.

Signing Out,
In The GHM Zone


Peace Needed

It has officially been over a year since I ended the twelve most insane, beautiful and paradoxical years of my life. But for the general people, I'd like to call it School. I had been in the same school for about 11 and a half years and this love-hate relationship could have used a few more days. The world could have slowed down just a bit to let me wander those halls again, give a few more grey hairs to my teachers and feel like this was somewhere I belong.

I still havn't made peace with peace with the end of school life. I havn't quite reconciled with college life either. There's a feeling of being stuck in a limbo, where you need to have that security of school and want the freedom of college. I've gone back just once after school finished and in that one month of absence, I felt like school had forgotten me, even if I didn't. Those days of trying to be the ideal student so that the teacher would acknowledge you. The book fairs and cultural days. The sports classes and that one camp that changed so many friendships. The games of Uno and the basketball courts. A whole different time spent in the school buses. Picnics and annual days. Growing up, disappointments, loving and hating, changing and being. Twelve years of becoming somebody with people you choose to live your days with.

I remember how life spent in those corridors and classrooms came to down to one little memory. That one little tear that I shed on the day when all of us had our scribbling day. That tear held every single hope, ambition, love, hate and memories the school had given me. The sense of being me.

Signing Out,
Wanting To Make Peace



ABC as learnt by this particular purple brain.

A is for Anty and Aaron.
B is for Bro-ing out and Barney Stinson.
C is for Caffeine and Carrots.
D is for my Dog, for you for ever.
E is for Ebony and Ivories, bonding us forever.
F is for F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Artemis Fowl.
G is for Grandparents, loved and dear.
H is for Herriot and the dreams he's written.
I is for Ishita and her idyllic perfection.
J is for the Jackasses I hope I never see again.
K is for Knowing It All and secretly lusting for more.
L is for Love and the Lemon Law. It's gonna be a thing.
M is for Mum. Muah Muah Muah.
N is Nupur and the Neverland we share.
O is for Optimism. Yes, guilty as charged.
P is for Purple Brains and the Pirate in my room.
Q is for the Quiet times that I've grown to love.
R is for the Roads I've walked and look back on
S is for Sarcasm, at its best.
T is for Turning, round and round in circles.
U is for my school Uniform, I miss it much.
V is for Vanity and the Vacuum it should live in.
W is for Womble, I love you much.
X is for Xoxoxoxoxoxo's I want from my friends.
Y is for Yahi toh meri zindagi hai.
Z is for the Zillion things that make me, but I cannot write here.

Signing Out,
Now That I Know My ABC,
Next Time Wont You Sing With Me?



Going to college in the car every once in a while, is one of the privileges I adore having. It's nice going in the comfort instead of battling it out with people for space in the metro. Yesterday, I was on my way to college when at a red light, an old man kept rapping at the windows. Thinking he was a beggar, my driver tried to shoo him off, but he persisted. Finally, we asked what he wanted.

He was a very old man, who couldn't climb into the buses because of his arthritis. He simply wanted a lift to some nearby place, which was probably in our way. But because he would have lost his job, my driver refused. So did I, because I'd been always told to never give a lift to strangers. After we left, I couldn't help but feel really bad about the whole situation. I felt very angry at myself for not showing mercy towards an old man stuck in the terrible heat. But then, my rational side told me that I'd shown common sense and that I really shouldn't give lifts to a stranger. That didn't help coz his face kept coming back to me. It felt so wrong to have the luxury of the car when people were out and struggling. I wondered what threat that old man could possibly have posed. Talking about it with my parents later in the day, they chided me for even thinking about offering him a lift. I should be more concerned about my personal safety after all.

But all of this fails to convince me. I feel it's not wrong to help people when you can. If I don't, I'm simply a hypocrite who judges the world for not helping each other but then do nothing myself.

Signing Out,
Feeling Guilty


Nightly Musings

The night's always a great time to take photographs, especially when you have to grapple about in near pitch darkness. There are vague subjects to photograph, nothing quite in focus and the moonlight is brilliant as always.

Makes you wonder, what mysteries does the night hold for us?

And if you're in the mood for more of my photography, My Flickr Photostream.

Signing Out,
The Night Owl


Sort Of Me?

"Choices always were a problem for you.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
what you need is someone strong to use you...
like me,
like me."

I'm told this is the kind of thing I'd say to the people I choose to know and befriend. I don't particularly think this is right. I am bossy and believe in my way of doing things, but I'm not obstinate to the point of idiocy.

I guess, I am stubborn and overbearing at times, but I really don't like people who are absolute doormat's and rely on others for ever single thing.

But on the whole, I like this quote. It is kinda me.

Signing Out,
You! Read The Whole Blog!


The Truth And Everything But The Truth?

Thinking about it, when people swear in court to say the truth and nothing but the truth, do they mean it? Do people commit perjury willingly or does the believed truth inadvertently slip out many a times?

What is a white lie? What is a big white lie? Does lying about why you are five minutes late differ in lying about why there is a dead body on your kitchen floor?

Signing Out,
Truthfully False


The Green Space Between Us

(@antyanand 2009)

Unintentional, almost unconditional in their welcome
Soft and sober, a gentle breeze plays across my face
Hidden, yet so painfully obvious to the world
Inviting yet distant, a shield of dust to stop the less loving

Filtering sunlight, sunlit faces, facing the inevitable
I hate you, you hate me, she hates us
Prose plays with poetry in the distance
The camera does its best to capture them in a dance

My make believe gate has dried
The wood too weak to start a fire
The cat's eye under the lens of my camera
I have to be so careful, my hands sweat too much

A ringtone fills the air, the phone is put on silent
Too many times over, hurried explanations
For this is our secret
The smell of food fills the air, is it lunch yet?

We freeze suddenly, footsteps crunching
We try to hide, but of course we know its of no use
A face appears from the side
A friendly one, its one of the few who know

Jabberwocky, made up words, made up miseries
Asking, collecting, feeling, cherishing
Having to move on, waiting for tomorrow
Yes, we'll be back tomorrow

(@antyanand 2009)

(@antyanand 2009)


It's Been Some Time

"The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books."
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It's been a fairly long time since I've read a good book. Not that I havn't read any in the past few months. There hasn't been any that made me laugh, cry, pity, admonish and immerse myself in the agony of being just a silent spectator to the life of some. I long for the heartache, the love, the ecstasy and the bond I start to share with the characters. I long for safe refuge in the haven of the word, creating fantasies and acknowledging realities.

The last two good books I read were "Marley & Me" by John Grogan and "Next" by Micheal Crichton. I'm a wee bit in love with anything to do with dogs, so do forgive me for wanting to put Marley & Me in the Hall Of Fame and giving the movie an Oscar.

As for Next, it was a delight for the geek inside of me. The book devles into the fascinating world of genetics, ethics and the cutthroat business of being what we are. There is fiction so intimately tied to reality that you are left wondering about the possibilities the book offers. From talking primates to trans-species families to the growing empire of patenting the genes that build us, there is an innate truth that radiates from the pages. Micheal Crichton has always been a genius by me, ever since I read Jurassic Park, but this elevates him to the level of God. May his soul rest in peace. It took me all of three hours to finish because it built the need to know further. To explore, explain, understand and revel in the facts of life it revealed.

The book made me think of an old quote,

"Zindagi kitaabon mein bitaani ho toh,
Kitaab mein pehle zindagi dhoond lo"

Signing Out,
From The Book Of Life


And Then There Was Happiness..

Shuttling down the road in a speeding car, the window open and my hair flying everywhere. Telling the driver to go a bit slow. The sun hidden behind the clouds. The first time I saw the sunlight coming through them and shining towards the heavens. Imogen Heap and slow jazz playing in my ears. The feeling of nearing paradise. Looking forward to another adventure.

Leaving the sounds, the taunts, the conversations, the bitching, the hate, the love, the world behind. Just a soul and its search for destiny. The body a seemingly annoying hitchhiker. Bonds to break, people to find, reasons to be. Coming back to Darwin. Is the purpose of being man only that to breathe? Do we deserve the sadness we bear? Do we deserve at all?

A cup of soup in hand. Warming it, because it needs to be hot. Cooling it, because I'll burn my tongue. Wondering where the angst went. Wondering what came in its place. Hating the world for its cruel injustice. Loving the world for the small beautiful mercies and miracles. Making alliterations. Making poems in my head. Accusations come back. Of course, the poem was mine. Being me. Wanting to be you. Insanely jealous of her. Insanely happy for him. Insane because of them. Enjoying the insanity. Real insane people humble you, after all.

A sweet, sweet awakening.
Figuring out how be somebody without leaving the nobody behind.
Looking, feeling, finding, letting go.
Knowing, cursing, accepting, understanding.

Signing Out,
By Myself, Finally


Eyes Of The Beholder

The oft repeated words of love
Their lustre lost on me,
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,
But what if their eyes are blind
When they chance to see me?

The flowers bloom when I turn away
My tears turn the water to grey,
The butterflies see the heart
Their world isnt crowded enough
With what the people have to say.

The dawn must be coming
The dusk can't live for long.
I wait for the sky to turn to gold
The sun beating down on me,
As I start to write a new song.

See the way I smile for you
Feel the warmth, thats all you need.
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,
But what if their eyes are blind
When they chance to see me?

Signing Out,
Opening The Eyes


The Changeling

@ John Bauer (1913)

"My past must now be erased, my future is uncertain
The fairy child takes my place, I wander on ahead
I mix and match, don't quite belong, don't quite fit in
While life goes on and I ponder my fate as a changeling

My parents understand not my heart, I wait for the day
When I find the path to my own tribe, people I can call mine
They try to curse me, to send me back where I come from
While life goes on and I ponder my fate as a changeling"

To foster a hope in the heart, that you belong elsewhere. To know that you cannot be who they say you are. To be difficult, malicious, unpleasant, anything to get them away from you. To be wise, only to be told off by elders. To be different and misunderstood. To be walking barefoot on the forest of tangled dreams and hopes. To be a Changeling.

Signing Out,
The Changeling


Old Delhi, Beautiful Delhi

Today, we all suddenly decided to take an impromptu trip to Chandini Chowk, the famous Silver market in Old Delhi. That is when the realization came that apart from silver, the place has a charm all of its own. Away from the Paranthe Waali Gali and the stalls of beautiful silver, the by lanes and shops full of beautiful and delicate things, lies a Chandini Chowk that threatens to enchant you forever.

There is a feeling in the roads, that makes you one with the crowd and yet stand out. The sudden joy of discovering a lane leading to more exotic worlds, old preserved buildings and bits and parts of a city you thought didnt exist anymore.

The lanes, the houses, the shops tucked away in the corners. The arched balconies and british lamp posts. The Purani Dilli architecture. The feeling on having found a whole new home away from home. It's beautiful.

Signing Out,
Lost In The Bylanes


Why In The World?

"The Fall Out Boy star, who welcomed baby Bronx Mowgli into the world in November, admits he swears too much and has made a New Year's resolution to cut it out."

Seriously? Bronx Mowgli? What did the poor kid do to you, Pete?

Signing Out,