I will burn away some day,
I will fade away one day,
But till I am here,
I will love you everyday.


Market Unfolds…

And then everything seemed vibrant.
When the sun came up shining brightly after the rain.
In the market, which is a small one, people thronged to buy fresh vegetables and fruits, it being Sunday. The breeze was still strong, and the plastic sheets in green and blue and yellow covers which were connected by strings to the tree or poles swayed ferociously. The color of tomatoes was enhanced by the light filtered through the sheets, and so was the color of other vegetables. Vendors would place their items wherever they found place, and the market was packed. Vehicles were all parked outside, everyone moved about carrying carry bags. The breeze would blow again, and the dried brown and yellow leaves would roll over and be carried away, just like small kids playing in the vast playground they have. Some people stood in line outside the ATM, waiting patiently for the person to finish his transaction. One of the two machines would be out of service, and the time would take even longer. ATM machine would be feeling rich, for he has so much of cash, notes of 1000, 500 and so on. The other machine would have called in sick that day, and would be relaxing in the conditioned air. And this other one had to do all the work.
In the market, all kinds of people come. Some come to sell, some come to buy. Some come with kids, and I go there to see the people, how they react, how they behave. Not that I don’t buy stuff, but I find it interesting to observe people.


Hope, you know, it never ends. It dies with death only. Even the fear of death doesn’t detest or weakens the hope. It makes it even stronger. Hope is like a dark tunnel. A tunnel which may have been neglected, old, ruined, dirty; yet if it’s a tunnel, no matter in what condition it is in, it will always have an opening. And when the first ray of light will be visible, you will realize that hope never dies. We do not know the vastness of this entire universe. We are just tini tiny human beings, living in some city, in a tini tiny planet called earth. The Milky Way. We do not know what is unknown. So all we have with us is hope. We set alarm to wake up in the morning. What is that if not hope. Hope that the next day I will wake up and continue to live my life. Who knows what might happen while you are asleep. Yet there’s a hope somewhere.

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Intricate worlds

follow your nose

The sun is already well above the horizon, but I go on down anyway.
It’s a tiny paradise of riotous sound down here, a cacophony of birds – funny to think we associate being in nature with quiet, when it can be so very noisy.
A red-winged blackbird flies straight at me as if to say, Hello! Where have you been? It’s been a few days, and you’ve missed all kinds of things – the buds are all over the trees, the geese have taken over the duck ponds, and they fight with the muskrat who’s always after their eggs, and the turtles are back, and so much is going on… what happened to you?red-winged blackbird speaksThe push-pull – some days I think, really I don’t need any more half-assed nature photos, so I skip it, stay home and do yoga.
Other days I head out, starting with a kind of…

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Let Me Know

Talk to the rain,
Talk to the sun,
And let me know what you think
Fly with the clouds
Fly with the birds
And let me know what you hear
See the moon
See the stars

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Leaves & Life

_CSC0146 I was sitting on the porch, and it was a lazy afternoon. The dry breeze was blowing, and surprisingly, it offered some respite from the heat. in the breeze, i saw a few leaves fall to the ground, saying their goodbye slowly as they hit the ground. I wondered “Did the tree miss those leaves?” “Did the leaves have any emotional scene before leaving the tree?”. Lost in these thoughts, the grey cells fumbled upon the words, which formed a poem; a poem of longings, desires and cacophony of thoughts.

The sunlight came filtering through the leaves,
Thoughts clamor within the silent self
Is this true me or just an illusion?
As I sit motionless while my shadow dances to the sun.
The leaves rumble in the breeze,
When the thoughts start to take a form,
No, it can’t be happening again…
The buried thought shouldn’t rise yet again.
The movement of leaves forms a symphony,
I close my eyes; let the thought burn
The carnal desires start to scream,
Was it reality or just a dream?
A few leaves drop down, being swept away
Life snatched with just a gust.
If everything was this simple
Depart and no longer linger; lost and no longer be found.

Picturesque Sky

As I write this, the sun is paving its way, to get ready for sunset. However the sky is still well lit, and it takes so much effort to look into the sun directly. I had to almost close my eyes, as in playing peek a boo and see through my blurred eye lashes. While doing so, long rays of sun seems to emancipate from it in all the directions. Its is still burning bright, and the sky around it is still white, while slowly it gradients to blue all the way. I can see the distant bluish mountain peaks. The peaks are arranged in layers, as in one after another. Cool breeze is blowing and i feel my hands shiver a bit.

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Blindness comes confusing
Confusing reality with dreams.
Convulsions arise in the body,
Subdued only by a touch.
While the melody of strings plays,
Cacophony of thoughts emerge within.
I seem to fall in the abyss of darkness,
And heaviness settles in my heart.
I am dead in my thoughts,
But never my dreams.

Just a Sunset

Sunsets are just a recurring phenomenon, yet they are so powerful and empowering. In this mundane and concrete world, where being on the job is more important than reflecting on one’s self, I am lucky to witness these amazing views almost daily, and everyday its a new experience!


Bike and Rain

The road was clear and wet ahead,and droplets were leaving their mark on my visor. The surrounding was nothing but trees, plain land and distant hills. The engine was constantly churning out power, rear wheel splashing the mist which seemed to vapourize. Looking in the rear view mirror, I saw straight road left behind me, with the tire mark on wet path. I was already completely drenched up in the rain. But with a vigor and enthusiasm to enjoy the nature at its best, I went on. The road was almost empty. I flipped on the headlight switch for it was getting slight dark now. Once in a while, a few trucks would guzz past, with lights on, with their fat tires spraying the mist, as the tires made contact with the wet road. And every time the truck would pass me, I had to steady my balance every time, for I could feel the force. But it felt wonderful. The wet asphalt was just a few inches below my feet, and this is the best thing I love about riding a motorcycle. You never lose the touch with the ground, the road on which I will walk my entire life, the road on which I first learned to ride a bike, had my first accident! Read More