Psychedelic Slippers

i thought life hardens you, turns out its the other way round..... and there were dreams, and there was fire....and now just glints to experience my first real winter... its already cold inside, outside... dad says dependence on anything is not good. unrelated. -- a foetal recoil in a corner of the bed ; my blanket my mom, my teddy my confidante.... i have no issues with "love" as such just the limiting it to the scope of a "relationship", weighing it down with "expectations" *** on a brighter note... some people remind you why you are what you are.. after many days my words felt right, real, authentic. aft many days, talking felt like an unobstructed flow of thoughts. bubbled... saying thanks is sometimes, not the apt way to express your gratitude

Our college cultural fest is going on, " Antaragni ". Yesterday was opening night. Pro-nite was a play titled “Love letters” by A. R. Gurney, performed by Rajit Kapur n Shernaz Patel. Loved the play. The performance was just awesome! It sketches the life of 2 people over a span of some 50 years (or something), through letters that they write to each other. There’s hardly much beyond 2 people reading letters at 2 ends of the stage, but the actors put so much life into the characters, tat for the hour n half that the play lasted I was completely lost in it. Parts of it took me back to my own tryst with letters. Ahh!! The days when penning it all out was much easier than talking. When I would jump at the sight of the postman. I had a bunch of pen friends then. I just loved it. Writing long letters, n then posting them, n then waiting for a letter in return. Constructing a whole you for someone else was a task. I dunno how far I managed. Slowly the letters dwindled. Now the...

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'" - Jack Kerouac

memories are always triggered. like volcanoes... n then they erupt a lava of emotions. i d call them old feelings... i d tell me get over it, i d say all those things if it was any other day.... missing spiffer, missing buddy..... m scribbling with invisible ink over ma blank wishlist

on 10th october, i stepped on homeland after like 2 months... looking back it doesn feel all tat long. (except for the one time when i booked my tickets when i was really dying to get back home). my home trip turned out nothing like i expected it to be. when i stepped in the car outside the airport, i d expected myself to burst into a chatter, o atleast be bombarded by a series of questions. neither of which happened. we drove home jus like usual. i was greeted home by lots o ppl, who were like just waiting fr me to step in so they cud move out. daaa.... freshened up n i was out on the sofa. i had surprisingly even fewer things to say. made me wonder at my inability to talk. is it tat words feel more futile, o thoughts jus cant find words, o m i too lazy to jus take the effort to voice it out. hmmm nt pretty sure. wonder wher the verbose me went. my normally cuddle hater cousin, din mind me cuddling him for 10 minutes the day we met. the dinner was the best part... fish curry rice... m...

how can someone else be a parameter that decides how contented u are with ur life? i wonder who put the notion in people's head that life is all about living for others, love is giving and such analogous bull shit. makes me feel sick. thoughts similar to these. i don't live for anyone, i live for me. i dont do things so that someone else should feel nice abt it, i do them cos i feel so. none of my actions spring from a thought that this is for someone else.... and if someone claims doing so is possible he s probably fooling himself. why do people try to fight things that are impossible to fight? "reality", "facts" for example...nostalgia is one thing, but wanting to walk back in time is quite another. and then the other extreme, where everything is "for the future".. there's jus no present. how can u claim to live when ur thoughts refuse to accept "today". (time travel is stil fiction) how can anything that compels u to reverse the te...