Looking at Life like a Chagall painting

In the sugar-coated motion of everyday life,

The crystallized lips--they do not speak.

Passers-by look distorted through the looking glass.

A little like: Looking at Life like a Chagall painting.

Stripping life down to the mere basics,

Letting the old spirits float around you.

The sound of the rain hitting the window pane,

And the wind howling with the wish to enter.

Remind you how Life is in its actuality.

Ready to take you up on a moment's notice.

And not let go of you: Till the eyes are sunken,

And the smiles are gone, the bones jutting through.

Till the dreams die and the soul fades.

Life takes the twinkle of eyes and the dimples.

And promises nothing, but the precious gift of Death.

For Death is reality and Life a mere illusion,

However ghastly she may be!

Smoke

She looks on the passing traffic.
The whizz and the busy honking.
People in their normal pursuits,
Going noisily about their business.
She looked at the milieu,
With mildly curious eyes.
Drawing smoke into her lungs,
Closes her eyes against the sun.
Not feeling its warmth, nor the noise.
For one sublime moment...
As the smoke curls inside her.
She keeps her words locked inside,
Too precious to be shared...
Treasured inside, away from sight.

Hey stranger!
Wont you ask her what they are?

Shooting for the moon

Its been a long time that I have seen stars in the sky,

This thick grey cloud clogging up the city nighttime,

Hiding so cruelly all the precious diamonds in the sky.

Or is it that the cloud is in our minds, fogging brains?

Of materialism, of egos, of cunning, of always wanting more.

A disease permeates our generation—shooting for the moon.

And shoot some people who stand in your way too.

Where friendship is obsolete, its all professional here.

Black coats, black trousers and blacker hearts.

Its been a long time since I saw the sun set over the Ganges

But I still see corpses floating down everyday.

Only this time, its not just decomposed dead bodies.

It is the stench of decaying decadent souls.

Luck by chance--Musings of a tired soul

I have lost myself and found myself…time and time…over again...It seems after many a day I am re-discovering myself...and its been a painful process because this time I’ve been aware of myself, my body, the existence of my soul and the sharp pains within it. Not that life is all a roller coaster ride down-hill…there have been moments of joy in it…in fact the happy moments though small and difficult to come across are precious and gimme the strength to go on when life is blue. I know my life is not going to be easy, it’s going to be boring and monotonous and very very lonely. But I’m reconciled to the idea that in a few years time I will have to live alone in a small apartment [if not a PG] in a strange city in India, working [hopefully the recession will not affect my chances at a ‘good’ life] in a ‘good’ firm, getting a modest amount of salary and basically surviving on my own. It’s a bleak future to look forward to, but at least there is one! Going to the fish market to buy regular supplies, commuting by public transport, cooking my own food, watching TV in the evenings for recreation and countless other things which I shall need to do on my own, absolutely alone—is the stark reality which faces me today. I am a little daunted by it, a little depressed too—I have to admit. But life is life and we need to face up to it. I’m growing up and shedding my cocoon. I have responsibilities to myself, to those who have given me a lot…an obligation to them who have made me what I am today. I cannot sacrifice my all even if I want to…and want I did. For a few moments I had thought that life will be a bed of roses, a dream come true… a happy life in a distant land. But that is what it was—a dream. You can put it down to my childishness and the day dreamer in my soul but I really believed it would all come true one day, even though I tried to deny it to myself to protect myself from the disappointment of not having my expectations fulfilled. I always believed that every person is a caterpillar waiting to become a butterfly. I thought that one day I too shall shed my shell and become a beautiful butterfly…but when the time came to search for my wings, I realized that it is one of the many mirages that life shows us. It’s only the cocoon that ever accompanies us and we are always so eager to get rid of it…I wish I could become a child again and enjoy the cocoon while it lasted. But I don’t have any regrets today… I dreamt, I lived, I loved and I gave it my all. Whether life works out for you or not is dependent on Fate. Life is after all “Luck by Chance”.

Girl meets world..

Girl meets world
Or the other way round!
I'm scared,scared a lot.
Funny thing is,I dont know of what.
Chasing dreams against the sun.
Like chasing butterflies on the run....
The light blinds me,yet I move on.
I dont know it is that helps me carry on.
I see life shrouded in mystery.
Past,present,future;its all about history.
Once in Tagore's blue star-studded night.
Once in Maugham's "Neil McAdam";out of sight.
I see life peeking out of it's disguise!
But I dont know whether I can trust my eyes.
Chasing the ideals ever elusive.
Changing and twisting,ever so furtive.
My life is a book waiting to be read.
But if some parts are read,Im ever so afraid.
In the madness of crowd,I seek solitude.
Running away,when i know its not what I should.
Feeling it so right,knowing its so wrong!
This confusion has been going on for too long.
Girl meets world or the other way round.
I dont think a solution can ever be found.