Psychedelic Slippers

Many years ago, a male friend quoted, “a girl/woman in a relationship is somehow more attractive to other guys”.  I didn’t really give a thought to it then, it could have been well merely his opinion. But what with guys liking girls who are already with someone else (and vice versa) I thought it wasn’t as simple as that. At a broader, abstract level, we as social creatures, seek conformity in our actions, a kind of acceptance. We are more willing to conform to something that has been already accepted. More than often we conform to social codes, rules, without questioning them because they already have some acceptance for them. We tend to believe that anything that has been accepted should be worth accepting. The other way of looking at it, and this one’s a personal favourite, is the Damsel-in-Distress Syndrome. Okay, there’s no such syndrome really, and I came up with the name, but it fits. So a couple of years ago, I had this friend who thought a girl was driving him nut...

Its five years since graduation. Five long years, since we walked into the real world. I look back with awe at all the years gone by. We start off with dreams, almost everyone does. Just out of college and you are ready to take on the world, or so you think. You are looking for a story, an awesome incredible story that you can write and call your own. There is naïvete in the way we perceive life to be, in the hope, in the promises we hope to keep. There is a longing to be together. The tears are fresh, and so is the pain of separation. We haven’t hardened to those ideas yet. We believe miles are only numbers. We keep in touch. We write love notes on walls and pledge together forever. Slowly that flame withers, and life takes over. Some of us toe the line, get a job, get settled, get married; the others still wander, searching for forever. Then you chance across a photograph, a video, an anecdote, that friend you bump into the café, that autographed t-shirt stashed in a long f...

Then, we were butterflies, insouciant,oblivious, free wreathed in flight on winged desires Now, you have perfected time travel, (it appears) a butterfly crawling back in its cocoon and I'm filling the void with ashes feigning faith in Phoenixes

You were naive to think, love would be easy or that, i'd make it any easier or that it'd be a picture perfect romance (glittering stars, silent night et al ) and you are naive today to think, i'd make it any easier, now.

Image picked from: Koimoi.com I am no subdued Rajouri garden types, but in the first few minutes into Queen, in that heart splitting moment, when her fiance breaks up with an all-in-tears Kangana, and she walks out only to return back and plead to him not to break up, while he is irritated over the tamasha her tears are creating in the public, it was me. It was there that the movie became real for me. But I don’t have a pre-planned honeymoon trip to go on, and neither a granny with cool words of wisdom. I live in a hostel bound by an ever-growing things-to-do list. And even if I did, I reckon I would bump into friendly foreigners who’d take me on a ride of my life. I would be too cautious for that. But I’d still let the movie be my story. To give a poker face to your ex whom you bump into every day is a test of your strength that you have to pass every day. One would wish one was as naive as Queen, so it would be easy to let go? I drift. That’s not the point here. I d...

Not a rose tailored to perfection, one hand-picked, off a rose bush, Fragile, petals that whimper Or may be a heart askew, filled with lines uncertain, “Red scarlet or Red violet?” Or a sticky note on the door, just before rush hour, begins, “Dinner at eight!” Or a song half written, for love, on a sojourn, “I love you, you love me too” Or being unsure, is Love, loving to love you? or Loving you love, to love you? Or finding the cracks, only to fill them up, “You may be broken, but I am the glue” ---*--*--- Happy Valentine's day Folks

Here, lifeless now, you were perfect; if not for the eyes that make you, so surreal. How could you do it? How did you pull yourself? (or push, I must say) Was it easy, giving up? How did you know? You had to stop? That there was nothing ahead, that you wouldn't, regret, wouldn't look back, and say, "I wish". What crushed you? Did you see yourself breaking? Crumbling, collapsing... Was it slow? like crawling to the finish line, pulling each muscle to make it! Would you think otherwise, now? Now, being a passer-by. Would you change ? Would you trade places and be, me, instead.