Wednesday, March 26, 2014

How Beautiful It Is

How beautiful it is to sit on a porch in your most comfortable clothes with your bare feet on that
grandfather’s chair, a book in your hands and a whole night more to read. Do you know how beautiful is that imaginary world formulated by a series of reflections and the character gratings?

Do you know what it feels like to sit on that chair, knowing that it is exactly the same noisy home and yet, a bit of yourself is mind travelling to some other corner of the world? Do you know the warmth of the cup of tea as it tickles the taste buds exactly when you are right at the middle page of the book? It is here, you know. Right here, with me. When I close my eyes, I can see the he’s and she’s enacting the characters for me, just for me, I can almost see it myself.
I love the memories, the fantasy and of course, the mind travel. Today, as I sit here with a hot cup of unsweetened coffee the characters are performing the familiar dance outside my eye window. 

Monday, March 3, 2014


Come closer and touch my face, 
And see my eyes and nose and lips are not insensate. 
Open your eyes wider and face the wind,
Don’t look back, its dark. 
Listen to how musical the winds are,
And how blue too,
Listen to your heartstrings,
They are composing a melancholy,
Wait for a moment and help yourself to comfort them,
Drink a few extra glasses of alcohol So that the next day, 
We can blame the malt and the obscure memory, 
And continue the game of charades,
Until the End of the day and the last whistle of the train,
We look around; to make sure we’re alone,
Who do we fear?
Except that figure in the mirror?