~Apple Pathways~

her problem

2011-10-01T14:13:00.000+05:30

no aplogies offered from days for silences which choke and strangle. words stuck in her throat, borne of pain, data, data, data...endless ticker. spaced out she watch the plots like far off constellations or are they crows and vultures circling above rotting carrion. waiting for time to pass. if she could study the root system, or the network or arteries and muscle, the mind needs the intricacy of words for the love of its sanity or perhaps intoxication is more suited for skimming the details of such times. as night turns over in sleep, it strains at the seams, the quiet ache hurts of loneliness, a solitary pain which nobody understands or cares to.

when i nibbled at the sugar laced moon

2011-09-02T14:47:00.001+05:30

so let's suppose the moon laid down last night on a bed of roses as the streetlamps chimed the hours, would the broken down words still matter? short sharp pricks of love, as shadows spread on worn down cobbles where tiny wild flowers fill up the spaces. the clouds set sail earlier in the day, white puffy clouds, tripping away and i wish i knew slang in flemish as i searched for vintage postcards, to say, "i am glad i was here today".

whispering moon

2011-06-25T21:33:00.001+05:30

six degrees of seperation between you and me and yet the disconnect couldnt be deeper. love is a stranger who walked into town last night with not even the howling dogs to welcome him. a lonely moon sat huddled in a dark corner of the sky as icy winds whipped the clouds into a frozen souffle. tsk tsk tsk loneliness is a wintry moon adrift on a heartless chill.

scar tissue

2010-12-11T01:05:00.000+05:30

the day arrives but my thoughts are still in pajamas; words typed on notepad, -not now....later.
The sky is snatched from darkness, in a moment of brillance, a bit like the volt charge when you crinkle your eyes. the wind carries the salt from the ocean and my tounge seeks the taste... will lick it off like a knife scraping butter. little stuff counts... this counted... that didn't... if only i wasn't so consious of myself... i wish i could abandon myself completely...i would then have been the scar tissue around your heart.

2010-05-17T00:58:00.000+05:30

sunday 3 pm

2010-04-19T14:17:00.003+05:30

there is no equality in relationships, be it any relationship whatsoever. if you were to keep a fair statement of balance, you'd go nuts with the taste of bile in your mouth. somebody needs to take and somebody needs to give but it should make you feel good about yourself but even that is often compromised. is it only for needs that we seek each other? self-sufficiency definitely eases up a lot of heartburn and the other is managing expectations. managing expectations is vital. you only have one mother and no body else will give you that love and unfortunate souls don't even get that. I know of people who have curdled relationships, for years they have tended to their festering sores, proudly displaying their hurt vanities and misdeeds done against them. those relationships are kept alive for the pain they have given each other. they are never buried, they are never laid to rest. they are kept alive by keeping an up-to-date account of who-did-what-to-whom- brilliant fact-keepers, pathetic story tellers. perhaps they wait for a confrontation were they will prove their hurt innocence and their aggrieved hearts will be assuaged by the other's tearful repentance; in their minds as well as to willing ears they play out their broken hearts but what is the endgame, i wonder. what does it matter if you were right? yes it is a pain to forgive and yea letting go is a rip in the heart but its your heart that you have to mend and festering wounds are best healed. This strange beast we have within us, the ego, it holds us captive to grudges and never lets us heal ouerselves. worrying about being loved and cherished or not being loved and cherished enough will only drive the nail in deeper. mistakes are made and words are said. hurts are glorified and wounds are fed. but again what is the point? if you are in a relationship with another human being, whatever nature that relationship is, it has to be for love and in love you have to fall on your knees and accept the other as your master. in love, it hurts like hell. in love, we can cut deeper than any sword. and yes we lie in love and yes we go a bit mad in love.

by way of explanation, this came about as a result of recuperating on a blistering hot Sunday afternoon which tends to bring out the rambling thinker in me. The thinker twists my insides and plays with my mind. It makes me think of strange things and makes me react strangely to things.

outside there is a patch of cloud, all the billions of dust motes in their collective strength have dimmed the sun just that tiny bit. or maybe we'll get lucky and get some much needed showers to break the heat wave. it remains to be seen. will i learn and grow from my lessons, it remains to be seen.

impressions of a delhi afternoon whilst stuck in a long ride - a metaphor for life.

2010-03-10T16:51:00.001+05:30

Mercifully I am spared the daily commute that most people have to make from home to their work space as my studio is only a short while from home, often I walk the distance which is just fine by me as I am a distracted soul who walks in her own thoughts most of the time, so often people and places are merely backdrop for my thoughts, its easier then if the setting is familiar, more space for thoughts, no intrusion of mindspace.

However on those rare days when I have to step out into this crazy crawl of traffic in this amazing city, i can't decide if i am a vouyer or a tourist but today after staying in this city for over two years now, not as a traveller, I had a moment of epiphany; I realized that so much of me is like this amazing, amazing city. This city which I put in as mine on innumerable forms; this city which is still not home. She witholds from me as I do; she gives me as I give to others, at times with an open heart and at times with gruding resentment. Just as it is littered with too many cars and people, so is often my mind with thoughts. Bottlenecks and landfills, crows and kids scavenging for the best bits though rubbish and refuse. Is that not me, looking for pieces of lost gold in the dark, musty corners of my mind.

Stuck in a traffic listening to the RJ cheering me up about it being a Tuesday and suddenly on the horizon I spot the tall minaret of the Qutub, quiet and majestic amidst construction, chaos and clutter. Is there not a sense of us, somewhere deep down inside, an anchoring thought which holds us back when we teether too close to the precipice? Been there, done that my child, softly whisper the ancient ghosts of this city. I am its new avatar. A million I's; a million cliches, each a throbbing wound. Constant new improvemnts, flyovers, make-overs and half-baked schemes are they not me somewhere, somewhere struggling to find myself, somewhere struggling to become the woman i dreamt of once?

Charlatans and fakirs roam this city as new deals are brokered all over; opportunities are sought, the buzz is thick, the spiel never-ending, oh this is definitely a city swarming thick with dreams.... the buzz mightier than mosquitoes at dusk. This is me, born years ago and today back, claiming it and still unsure if its home. I see myself in restoration schemes, in city projects; i see myself in the crazy guy in tatters staring at the gate, not begging for alms. I see pieces of myself reflected all around me as in the broken shards of a mirror. I see it in the beauty around me. I see it in the neglect. The cityscape changes every few kilometers. The address marks your station in life but it is fluid.

A fat man crossed the road in a dainty run, arms stuck to his side, pinky sticking out. A traditionally dressed middle aged woman leisurely rode past on an ageing scooter, bun and bindi in place. A slick gentleman in a fancy car never even looked up even once, reading up on his agreement i guess before he signs the merger. A Japanese woman recording the traffic jam, on her neat camcorder; a nun out for some shopping; the child on the asphalt, fleeting impressions ; each scene contains a story, a story too long, oft repeated, barely remembered but sadder still with no listeners. The play of life is same regardless of address, the flavor albeit hits it mark and sucks you in.

Spring is bursting all over the city, like barely contained lust. Its only a few more lovely days before the sun scorches out the skies and then we will have the Indian summer laying itself out prone and parched for the monsoons to have its way with her. Its a continum of hope and anguish of waiting and wanting.

In it and by it, I discover aspects of self in my recognition of those aspects in the people around me. I am not seperate. I am a part of this, good and bad. a speck. a tiny flutter of the butterfly. a mood of my maker. facades and apperances drop their veil and I am stunned at the fragility of egos, at the vulnerability of the grandness of our lives. If ugliness of small minds is a common denominatior than the largesse of the big blue sky is a singular shroud.

I am you my brother. You are me my sister. The pain that isolates us is the the thread that binds us. Without me your story is untold and without you I don't have a story.

sullied waters ...for now

2010-02-16T00:53:00.008+05:30

sunshine has been not been washed lately ; oh these muddied, sullied days!

this endless road lined with dark heavy clouds; oh let the waters wash us clean! neptune and venus will play out their madness. in our garden, untended, uncared for, wild and overgrown, we will sit under a knotted gnarled tree; as our heart will beat to the clamor of our love. desire and pride will wash their clammy hands with tears

a search of a lifetime, the scents of springtimes and god alone knows if patience is a freshly painted door with daisies smiling guard. if i make it to the door of patience, there would be a thousand kisses and each kiss will beget another. bliss is a drunken soul and truth is its mead. the shroud of deception will be shorn to shreds and the veiled one will sing to me songs that led us there. his face i will wash with neptune's kisses as the sun will dazzle in the skies.

on days like this

2010-01-04T19:54:00.000+05:30

frost dripping off green leaves like candy from christmas trees.

any takers for loopy desires/ any takers for love trimmings?

he does the invisible man move again.

the dew drops seek him...

...i am the walking fool

...or not...

happy 2010!!

wishful thinking

2009-12-17T23:27:00.002+05:30

the cool dampness of the night; unstirred, holds her breath; the breath which moves through me and connects me to all that is you. the moon draws her breath, each moment of her night, she is lucky; the gaze beckons softly but surely and yet unclear certainties disturb the mind. makes me want to run to a corner and cozy up to something warmer and beyond words, maybe getting into a matchbox with a name like Vittoria Grande or finding my fingers warmly ensconed in your lightly held grasp. i am the queen of wishful thinking after all.

not now

2009-09-20T00:33:00.000+05:30

she averted her gaze, when she saw him sitting there drinking coffee. the diamond in her ear did not shine as brilliantly as the teardrop caught in her lashes. it had not been easy for her to accept the ending that had been imposed on her. the summer had left tangles and knots in her dark hair and the sun crushed violet stains on those sun kissed cheeks. and then he saw her biting down her lip, hard... a surge of memories as the bitter, hot coffee scalded his tounge.

10 pm

2009-09-04T23:17:00.001+05:30

full moon in a rosy haze

i walk beneath

--leaves stirring sleep

on a dark night

2009-09-01T12:13:00.004+05:30

as she sat there in the corner, sunbeams kissed her feet warm; incomplete phrases vied for attention. a night lit by a thousand candles; a field of lavender blooms; a half-baked moon and a couple of sweet danish pastries; pretty things to carry on her arm and colours as many as butterflies strewn across silk softer than the powder on their wings and the firefly...oh the firefly, the darkness turned into a cloak of black velvet by the firefly.

she collected these thoughts as the pool of light grew larger and enveloped her. someday, she hoped, those thoughts will become into fireflies to light up your darkness.

hurt

2009-08-28T16:50:00.000+05:30

i want you to apologise for this asphyxiating silence

but of course you shall never read these words. i was waiting for roots to grow, watching too keenly like a hawk, circling above, an eye out for each shoot, each new leaf, a new comment, a fresh look; reading and re-reading notes.

and....

night falls silently
i fold up my thoughts
tuck them under my pillow
a quiet hurt
which is not quite loneliness
but...

but which even i don't understand.

dusk

2009-08-26T17:13:00.001+05:30

evening sky,

are your cheeks too

freshly scrubbed?

words or none

2009-08-24T22:11:00.003+05:30

and when you do sit down to say your piece, words suddenly turn strangers, shrug their shoulders and walk away. you are left staring at them, beseeching them, please come back, you little Rumpelstiltskins, this is when i need you but no they are gone and you are here, you and now; darling if you really meant it, it will come through wordlessly perfect.

4 pm

2009-08-23T17:11:00.001+05:30

late afternoon sun:

walking through the empty park

only cicadas, mynas and crows now.

last night

2009-08-23T16:39:00.003+05:30

a new moon -

sound of my breath

whispers of the past

sunstroke

2009-08-19T21:57:00.003+05:30

gotta get some love to go; don't spill, keep it covered;

run fast and get over here;

let the music burn in your mind

and let those feet fly and take you high;

higher and higher;

you run and the sun is a distant memory now.

spare parts will be found on the way;

don't you worry i can always put you together

and shimmy my way through this.

i look for you under the sun stabbed sky...

2009-08-03T10:40:00.003+05:30

i shut down the noise filtering in my ears. there is nothing i can do about it. i zone out. i drift away. there is a place i need to be, far away from everywhere i know but how do i find my way to there? the answers will come, they are easy but its the questions which are tricky. close your eyes to what you don't want to see and let it all fit how you want yourself to be. i change. i grow. i am not the person i used to be anymore. i see shades of my older self in people i knew back then but the disconnect has deepened and i don't even feel like closing the chasm. i care less and less about what you might think perhaps because you don't care enough anyways or maybe I don't.

In my mind i walk through the open spaces under a sky as pale as the grains of sand which stick to my brown ankles. distance ...just endless distance from everywhere. only the sound of the sighing wind whispering in my ears of an ancient need, of a timeless search. somethings don't come with a time stamp and somethings remain with us forever. i look for you in this vast nowhere and maybe this is how i reclaim my lost self.

under the sun stabbed sky runs a river deep below and before i am through I will drink from it. sun shine pierces the darkest of hearts but are you ready to see all that it reveals? how do i describe the sweetness of sand and how do i tell you that to be soundless, scared and still like a bloom in perpetuity is not what i want.

i look for you under that sun stabbed sky. i strain to hear your name on that wandering minstrel's song. the night comes at last and tonight i will search for you in my dreams and we will wash ourselves from the waters of that river.

storyboard

2009-07-28T16:19:00.002+05:30

some things you said, like the way you narrow your eyes and look sideways

some things you hide, like the sharp defenses which rise up, ready to ignore any plea.

a private conversation

between two strangers. a random day, imaginary words.

Darling, I want to lose myself in you.

do that, my sweet.

Skies and oceans, shades of blue, hues of white and more would be added to our store, snapshots of life. we would laugh at those troubles and swim through like a fish and the fish would be named love.

That would be our story

this is me.

2009-07-23T20:56:00.003+05:30

i am a creature of emotiona and affections and aches and bliss. I am a creature whose heart waxes and wanes with pleasure. I am a creature whose heart is bigger than it should be and it feels more deeply than it should. Rules of conduct and propriety are lost on me, I say and do what comes naturally to me. I play the fool. I kiss the angels. I don't understand a lot many things. I am often not what you presume of me but I will rarely correct you as it doesn't much matter to me. I am open to interpreation. My truth I know and you can only guess at it. The sun sets on me but the darkness soothes me. I get hurt and broken but I am a creature who is strong and that is all you will ever know of me, my strength. my vanity is a pretty cloak which keeps me warm in this cold, cold world. if i am vague and abstract then that's how i want to be. t

ripe but not quite

2009-06-13T13:53:00.001+05:30

a million tears shatter
the sky
that was my brother
that was my father
i am born to run
i am born to give
love is a million heartbeats come together
you are my lover
you are my mother
i am born for you
i stand here for you
a million dreams running in my head
there was you
and that was me
i am born to roam
i am born to dream
but these dreams are mine alone
as i carry the multitudes in me.

tonight

2009-04-07T23:25:00.000+05:30

summer night showers
green grass tickles my feet
as you do my heart.

playing footsie by myself.

2009-04-02T12:41:00.002+05:30