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Posted in ARTICLES

Why ?

why do I write ? I write because I can. This is the one selfish endeavor I indulge in which sometimes can be the least selfish thing I do. I don’t look at how many views a post gets, how many people comment, I’ve never been freshly pressed. I have never taken this seriously.

However, I am critical of my work, I care. Just not about what you have to say- as much as I should-I should strive for building an audience: add gratifaction to this potpuri of self contentment, but I do this for me. I have found time and again that I am inept at maintaining a journal- at documenting any part of my life- yet when I go through the posts of this site they are incredibly personal, even the ones which are seemingly cold and distant. I have also found that being honest on this site is very rewarding to myself. It is an act of cowardice clothed in bravery; no one knows and yet the whole world CAN see.

I don’t think an average reader would want to read me pontificating my tiny blog which cant even be called that but like I said, I don’t care.

I do this under an assumption that no-one reads. I do it with the same emotion of an internet troll who doesn’t consider that their words ‘might’ actually reach the person whom they launched a diatribe against.

I can say : I create. I think that’s beautiful; it is art that I can claim, that is mine. I write in a language I don’t speak and have an audience whom I will never know. This makes me feel more.

Why do I write ? I write because I can. It’s that simple.

Posted in Journals and musing

Hello best friend , I know you from the internet

I’ve known you a while

Seen you through lenses;

Separate worlds and yet our tastes aligned-

I made sure your every obsession was also Mine.


It’s not just about liking or loving;
Anything and everything
Is for keeps.

Fans.. fanatics… fantasies
Fantastic they say…

Got a rehab
For this obessions of you I’ve made ?

Obsessions nay, religion rather I’d say
I wear your clothes and sleep under your face.

Snippets of life stalked through the world wide web

Hey stranger, I know you from the internet.

– a_true_fan

Posted in Journals and musing, POEMS

Uniquely Yours.

How many posts do I read
Before I post one of my own.

Shared battles and ideals meet,
Sometimes I wonder who was the original clone.

Identification equates acceptance,
A lack of the latter
An artist creates.

Permutations of 26:

Myriad sounds;

In the end, the same tales narrate.

.

.

.

.

Posted in Journals and musing

Haven’t slept since Sunday past


Got tires of grief stacked up high
High enough to block the light
Just so that one beam might
Shine through right into my eye.

You see it’s been keeping me
Up at night .In twists and turns
Limbs frozen while thoughts churn
Nevous stimulants, nerves sky high,
Haven’t slept since past Sunday night.


Tick tock tick tock,

little changes, fewer gains

Is it Ambition or wanton needs

I strive to attain

I know naught;

Only ,Can’t stop. Won’t stop.

Posted in Journals and musing, POEMS

Counterfeit

I talk in a language that’s different from yours,
I write in another,one that voices my deepest thoughts.
I converse with strangers and speak in a tone
That I’d never identify as my own.

I twist tales in a borrowed tongue
My own vernacular, my mother tongue
Is one I speak but know not how to read or write
It’s not a matter of shame
Neither of pride.

I think and express in the language that was abundant
That spoke to me the most
The speech that was taught as poised and posed
That was essential and needed not for me but for all those
Who would eventually seek my company.

I talk in a language acceptable to most
And yet in times of dire need
In anguish and pain and joy and sorrow
Or even as I narrate my own prose
It feels more foreign than
The cities I’ve moved to and left in a night
It feels more fake than the faux gold hoops I bought
Under the bridge on a sweaty Mumbai night
The accent betrays me
Perhaps it’s the unconscious discrimination
I fear I attract
Perhaps the want of fitting in
Pushes me away.

I walk down roads like this
Imagining that they lead to greater ways;
Beyond a river crossing my own Terrabetia lays.
I imagine I’m the protagonist in a novel I read sometimes
I’d Chanel the characters, even those with more boring lives than mine.

I’d call myself a counterfeit
But aren’t we all that in the end, pretending,
Understanding,
Ultimately evolving?

Posted in POEMS

HAPPY

You put down a thought

Into an end of that book,

Hoed yourself out,

almost unwittingly.

Tired,

Kept a tea cup

Precariously perched:


Abstract art now lays tattooed

And as my fingers trace marks

Wondering about these patterns,

Of minds lost :

Or captured perhaps ?

Blocks of ink create craters,

Did they run deeper

More than these

two pages of paper…

Borrowed books
Stolen ideals
Copycat opinions
Hypocrite or just happy?

Posted in POEMS

LONELY

If expectations were meant to be met

Obligated to bow to unvoiced demands;

Would I be happy?

Or forever seek more and tarry

Voicing my wants?

It’s not my prerogative and yet

More than you seeking

When I reach out to help you

It is my ego that adjures

Coaxes prods and forever yearns.

Is it your vanity or mine?

Is it me you refuse….

or was it just not the right time?

Posted in Uncategorized

Plastic Sunsets

Woke up late tonight:

To empty voice notes

And calls from friends and family alike,

They’ve got muddy reflections

Of societies expectations of me;

Mired down by my egos brutality,

All I want is someone to admire me.

 Got my coffee going

And yet no plans to stay up past 8,

Alert minds silent these dreams make

Of midnight castles and forgotten muses

Of ponderings and thoughts

Of to be or not to be…

Plastic sunsets from days past;

Stuck on these walls at last

Now trapped like the birds in the pictures

Of dreams once shared

The kind never meant to last.

Eagles circle in the purple horizon

They become dots and a mere speckle

They’re high oh so high

I wonder if they’d fly close enough that I

Might recall your voice saying they’d get your eye.

Blinded by expectations and a four letter word called love

Some days I wish I could fly

So tonight I might just try.

Through tinted frames the world stays greyscale

Crimson’s my hue, let the world know

At least I tried to sail, that I didn’t just bail.

Posted in Uncategorized

uncomfortable

Do my words bother you

Make you squirm

Do my thoughts provoke yours

Or make you sneer,

Can my ideas intended for evoking a response

Do just that?

Are you the type who has a hastag for breakfast

and a breakdown for dinner.

Welcome & welcome…