Oct 24, 2010


"Beach chale?" I asked. Grinning inwards at the kiddish-restless look on his face. And at the childlike sparkle in his eyes at that sentence. Sometimes looks can be so deceiving - Aint I supposed to be the childish one? And he the mature one?

“Haan haan chalte hai chal.” So there we went, running off to what is the nearest, one of the quietest beaches in Mumbai. Ofcourse Salman made a mockery of the wonderful place with a pathetic song… but sigh. Nevermind. It remains exactly how it was. I remember coming here once with Ro a long long time ago. A lifetime ago - but this visit wasn’t about him. Or me. Or anything concrete infact. It was just… a walk on quicksand. That’s all.

Oct 10, 2010

I hate you.

I inhale deeply, the smell assailing my senses, prickling the inside of my nose, feeling the sharp, putrid smell float down like cold ice down to my once pure lungs. I observe the swirling patterns the white smoke made against the dark canopy of the night sky. It was a starless sky, but then in a place like Mumbai, the street lights & high rise apartments shone brighter than any stars. For as long as I can remember, I think those swirling patterns have always fascinated me – smooth flowing smoke, making love to itself, disappearing into nothingness like the end of a beautiful poetry.

Another cigarette. Another seven minutes of my life, wasted, as those stats say. Wasted? Not quite - wasted would be the last seven months of this thing called life.  Knowing you, being with you. Disappointment. Now that my love, was a waste. This? This was just timeout.  Maybe even getting back to reality, real life for starters. As I saw the street lights shine like little fireflies in the side view mirror, looking at the glowing orange of the lighted tip, I once again thought of you.

Oct 3, 2010

I Wonder...

.... did yesterday remind you of me at all? Did you think of me even for a second? 

And if you did, did you smile when you thought of me?

P.S: I haven't been able to find the summer triangle since you've been gone. . .
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