What is wrong with me? Anyone? Why does lighting strike twice, thrice and god knows how many more times it'll in the future...in what is one of the darkest hours of my pathetic existence, I sit in front of my computer looking for ways to get myself together, to deal with the sheer shock, to cope with the trauma, actually to come in terms with what now stands stoned..now is when I needed you like never before, and you elude me- all I have is hundreds of conversations in the chat history of gmail to look at. Believe me if you will, I finally paid heed to your advice - I actually tried to cry my heart out- to let go of the pent-up whatever; I failed..I dragged myself to T and B for a share but found them engaged in a post-ID party which made things only worse..actually served as a heady reminder of you-know-what. Perhaps they even failed to notice the look on my face, perhaps they didn't...I tried reaching P, knowing she won't oblige 'cuz I had instructed her not to...I went through all the no.s in my phonebook..paused at some, wondering whether to call or not to, finally decided not to; and you know what, maybe out of sheer madness or just hoping against hope I ended up calling your no. twice and got static- then that irritating engaged/dead tone minus the squeal at the end...All these days, whenever I was in a soup I knew where to go, for the call of wisdom right? but I'm at a loss now. Perhaps I should've been accustomed to the sense of loss, I thought I was..but sadly even if I know what loss is in all it's dimensions and colors, it hurts just the same way it did the first time, even the mere thought of it, probably more- 'cuz am missing the healing touch. Only if this would feel any better, I would be continuing scribbling all night; I get a feeling that a cold void is encircling me, wrapping it's tentacles all around and I'm giving in- can't get rid of it, it's just dreadful. If only you'd tell me that this is another of your practical jokes, though way way above limits I promise to laugh at myself and at my misery and to thank you for playing the game. I swear. It may be cliched but it'd suit me fine if this was a dream and I wake up a few hrs later and get to ridicule it. But if It's true, and I've always been selfish..I need you now and always just as you were..the bestest friend that could ever be- So fight, as is your habit, with all your might. di, pat-pin, me and everyone else is with you, looking at you now.. I wish i could get this into your upper quarters now, I hope it'll find a way..we'll be waiting for you. Comment ASAP.

Walking in the woods with my shadow at my heels

the air smelled of smoke and of blood-stained steel;

the trees came down and the birds, they cried-

My shadow said: “Hide.”

Walking in the desert with my shadow at my side

the desert was empty and the desert was wide,

I was burning to death in the midday sun-

My shadow said: “Run.” 

Cold water flowing in the old grey river

I was a captive, from a slave’s chain delivered,

when I fell down to rest on the river’s brink

My shadow said: “Drink.”

The table in the tower has a cloth so white

like a sheet for the winding of a corpse at night,

plenty of bread but there wasn’t no meat-

My shadow said: “Eat.”

The sun went down and the air was cold

the loneliness tried to kill my soul

couldn’t find my shadow and I started to weep but

My shadow murmured: “Sleep.”

Then I built me a fire and it made me warm,

watching it burn in the heart of the storm I

slept in the light of the smouldering embers as

My shadow serenaded: “Remember.”

i wish i was good enough to illustrate what I wrote. btw all credits to deviantart.com :(

K was an old-school teacher. Her subject of specialisation was fine-arts. She had a keen eye for spirituality and was a great believer of awakening of the mind. She had a group of pretty young, troublesome students who were always competing for her attention and quarrelling with one another. Day and night, they pestered her: "Ma'am, which of us is the smartest? The kindest? The most gifted? The most intellectualy advanced? The most special?" She knew it was almost impossible to make these  young hearts understand unless they realised the truth themselves. And she searched. For the right signs, the right way.

At last, K knew; excited, she said: "Enough. I will give you the answer finally, but it cannot be told, it must be revealed. Tomorrow we will go for an excursion and you will see."

The next day, breathless with anticipation, the students accompanied their teacher to the excursion. After lunch, K led them down to a lake. It was noon. The water was calm and still. K pointed to a small rowboat: "All of you get in. Row to the middle of the lake and look into the water."

So the students piled into the boat and were rowed out into the lake. They looked down into the water. Immediately one cried out: "Why, there's a bright light around my head and rays coming from it! Yippie!! God favors me over all of you! So I must be the most special!"

But immediately there arose a hubbub, with each student claiming to see the exact same thing! What with pushing, and shoving, and leaning over to point... the boat tipped over and sank, leaving the students floundering in the water. It turned out that only about a half of them could swim, so the ones that could, helped the ones who couldn't, and in the end they all made their way safely back to shore.

There sat their teacher on a log. "Well," she said, "what have you all learned?"

There was a moment's silence. The students all glanced uneasily at one another. No-one wanted to be first.

Finally one said: "The sun's light shines equally on all of us. None of us are special."

Another disagreed. "All of us are special. Maybe this is a sign to each of us so we'll know how well we're loved."

A third remarked: "I noticed that when we argued and competed we put ourselves in danger, but when we cooperated we were able to save ourselves."

A fourth opined: "We attach too much importance to shadows and reflections..."

A fifth gave a tremendous sneeze and said: "Right now I am learning that we are all wet and cold and I'm going to start a fire!"

K is somebody B has admired and looked up to from when he was a child. She has always had so much to give. Thank god, seems like finally she has some takers. 

The silver glow of your gaze
like the white moon of an autumn night,
draws up my soul to tangle
in a Delphian web of enchantment..

and from these silver threads
is woven the wick of my longing;
thus lambent is the night
with this, an eternal flame.

HAPPY DIWALI to all!!! thank eu btw. for the brightness. :) 

B doesn't know if it's his mood. Or the warmth in his four chambers. Or the numb, surreal state he's in. Or the slight chill outside. Or the she.
Suddenly everything has turned glorious and spectacular..B's uplifted; his reverie's been disturbed, for the good :) B cares not anymore. B's not in awe too P. he just revels in his happiness.
The last time B was at the shore, seduced by the now-demure-now-bubbly waves, he brooded, hesitated, procrastinated......puzzled by the waves' demeanor, he dreaded being hauled to the rocks onshore once he reached out to...But this time, having taken the dip, he doesn't care if he's hauled, mauled or drowned :) he thought he'd float but, horrible swimmer that he is, he is drowning fast.... but astonishingly the deeper it gets, the reassurance, the calm increases. Uncovering new layers, breaking new ground- sweet surrender anyone? And what excites B the most is that it's unbound, timeless. It's fascinating how the waves are so much more captivating and infinitely more beautiful from nearby. So, as they say, he has and he hasn't learnt from his mistake :D B, however curses himself for being unable to express himself in the way he wants to.she says he has bouts of childishness :|He's still very happy all the same.
N he feels one Mr. A.R.Rahman has composed an entire album for him-YUVRAAJ.. the numbers are soo sooo romantic. Would even give a stone the lovey-dovey feel. He's a magician. Best of all time says B.
B wants to write more. only if he could in the proper, :(
and this, B thinks is probably Rahman's best till date. Take a listen if you haven't already or even if you have. :)

oi aby, tell me something...honestly (giggle) like honest honestly

-eeeyiiikeesss!!!

-giggle giggle how do u think i look actually? eh eh?am i really pweety pretty?!

-welll....

-tell naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

-umm.i guess..... but you'd be beautiful, if you had a face that would do you enough justice.

pause

more pause, pweetty pause

- you be a hopelesssss. hihi

:) :D

He struggles with the puzzle. His hands can't find the pieces.

Already he knows it's not the answer he's looking for. The bits he's assembled show a picture of a man at a table. He's leaning over something: small brightly colored bits.

It's a man assembling a puzzle. It's him, assembling his puzzle.

This isn't the answer, he thinks. This isn't what I wanted.

A voice comes from behind him. "Try taking pieces away."

Away?

He tries it. One by one, he takes pieces from the puzzle and throws them back in the box.

Strangely, the picture never grows any less complete. But it changes.

If this is it, he says. If this is the answer. What was the question? I've forgotten the question.

In the presence of the Answer, all questions unask themselves. Nothing left but a box of puzzle pieces.

Look! They're all blank.

Love...ever unsatisfied, lives always in the moment that is about to come. :)