burnbabyburn

 Daydream delusion
Limousine Eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes
I am a delusion angel
I am a fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don’t want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I came from
We have no idea where we’re going
Launched in life
Like branches in the river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I’ll carry you. You’ll carry me
That’s how it could be
Don’t you know me?
Don’t you know me by now?


From the movie, Before Sunrise...

I read a review of this book, a month back, in the newspaper somewhere. I cannot recollect even a bit about what the critic had to say. The name of the author and the cover of the book stayed with me, unconsciously.
While browsing through a roadside bookstore, I picked up this book and bought it for cheap.
Once I started reading, I could not let go. I like her style. Pacy and the word play is interesting.
It was well written. Upto some point before the climax began.
A story that could have been told in a better way. Or rather in could have ended in a better fashion. The characters, the two sets of twins, the secrets and lies, all seemed real. And believable. The story seemed true, happening. Even Elspeths ghost was amusing.

I guess the author got bored, towards the end. She gave up imagining and simply delivered a hasty culmination of a depressing, hurried kind. The characters all showed unreal traits, suddenly.
A ghost mother entered her daughters body, killing her for good and resurrecting herself. A girl who found comfort and peace in her identical twin for 20 years, suddenly detested their mystifying relationship.
A young lover; well, not very young, mourned for his love and then fell for her daughter, their resemblance being the catalyst here. But then conceives a child with his dead lover’s ghost residing in her daughters’ body.
A man suffering from OCD, refused to leave his house, even for one second, finds himself making a journey to another country.

Ah! If only she could have continued writing the way she began. I would pass of this book as entertaining. It makes me sad. A waste of a book that showed much promise

A strong sense of déjà vu clutched me while reading this part where Martin talks about Marijke to Julia.
Maybe I read this bit in the review.
Maybe not.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.


No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)



~~Alexander Pope




“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable.It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

~~Neil Gaiman quotes

And the importance of the biggest question in my life changes when I see a white BMW pass by me on the streets.
And I wonder if I will ever be able to own a car like that.
And sometimes I feel if the biggest question is if God exists, and then I put that thought on hold. It is a neutral sentence now.
And when I ponder that does someone else feel the way I do, I feel lost. That question is best left unanswered because I would be terrified by either of the two answers that are possible in this context.

The way I feel about rain on the street or blood on the street.
The way I feel about dawns and twilights.
The way I lose my breath when I see exquisite cloud formations, created by who knows what.
The way little things have me hooked.
The way I see marvels even in the ordinary.

A vaccuum that needs to be pushed away.

A palm filled with gravity.

An idea which is almost in my orbit.

An ocean of stars and planets.

A milky way filled with blue and green water.

A glimmer of sun on my toe-nail.

With random words and meaningless sentences,

I will play,
tonight.

Oh baby. I want to sink, evaporate, sublime, vanish from this moment and come alive in you.
Should I sigh and take your name
Or should I take your name and sigh.
What will shock you more?
What will make you fall down weak, and complete in sheer disbelieve?


Now I am lying on a bed of letters the words and lines flying above me.
And something passes by and the sun in my eyes and I close my eyes.
I see a bloody image of you smiling.
And my heart aches no more.

My train passed over the bridge slowly. And I saw the water sparkling below. I saw the sun in every wave of the green waters. And on looking closely, I saw what looked like thousands of little silver blades. Is this my eyes wanting to see fishes or are they really fishes. Guess I will never know, I thought. It was a long bridge. And the train was crawling on the iron tracks.
And I wanted to know the answer. Wanted more than anything more to know what they were.
I was bewildered at my own thoughts. And the train stopped moving. All the commuters looked restless. The sun was burning a hole on the tin roof. And from the sea of people around me, I found myself getting up and moving towards the door. I saw the incredulous look on their faces.
They were wondering what they could not fathom. I saw them yell at me, their voice not reaching my ears, when I looked back. I stepped down on the burning rails.
I walked the path the train had left behind. I walked looking for a shore, walked with only one thing on my mind. What were those things? I heard the train’s engine starting. I looked back and saw the train coming to life. I saw troubled faces, people asking me to come back to safety. What will she do all alone in the middle of nowhere, they must have thought.
And from them I saw a man step down. I saw him run towards me. I kept walking. Peering through the sun and seeing faint steps leading to the waters below, on the left.
All in a hazy light, I felt his hand on my arm. Come with me, the train is not too far. Before I could speak, we heard a creak. And then a bloodcurdling screech of metal against metal. We turned back horrified. And saw the train, derailed, slanting against the bridge, at an unimaginable angle. Like a giant caterpillar having a mighty web-less fall. We saw people falling out too, flying in midair. Like pollens of dust against the bright sky. In morbid fascination, we looked at the train twisting and falling into the river below. And sinking smoothly to the river bed.

Below the little silver blades.

I don’t mind watching gory bloody movies. It is entertaining to see zombies chasing humans and getting their brains blown out of their heads.
It is nice to play counter-terrorism games too.
I get dreams at night where I am fighting against them, gun ready for action.

But when I saw two women fighting in the train the other day, blood streaming from their face, pulling each others hair, I cried. I cried for the reason they fought over, ones umbrella nudged the other. Cried for the savage, uncivilized look in their eyes.
Cried for the world is a scary place really.
And I prayed to god. Don’t let this happen to my people.


Prayer
~Tabish Khair

Grant me a little child
I can hide
When the mullahs come home to pray.
When planes are birds of prey.


Someone
Smaller than my thumb
I can put in my pocket and run.

Yesterday, on my commute, I was sitting idly. No books, no music on me. Too bored to surf on my cell phone. Wishing I would reach home quick. I looked out of the window, leaning back on my seat. And then I heard some snippets of conversation flowing my way. The woman in blue sitting next to me was having an animated conversation with her neighbor.

Blue woman "I thought my husband was playing some joke on me. I could still see her online."

The neighbor "How was she online! How old was the poor thing?"

Blue woman "She was only 27! She was still logged on through her blackberry phone. It was the most disturbing thing I had ever felt in my life."

The neighbor "Oh dear! Very young. Tsk tsk."

Blue woman "I kept thinking if I ping her, she would reply. Laugh at me and tell me I was mad. Only after I saw her lying lifeless in her house could I believe."

The neighbor "Why did she do that? Was she married?"

Blue Woman "She was depressed, they say. I was her closest friend and I never knew about such a thing. Yeah, she was married, they had eloped. She used to blog a lot. All her posts too never suggested any depressive or suicidal tendencies. She broke my heart right apart. Her husband used to be the life of parties. But now he won't even make eye contact."

The neighbor "He must feel guilty. Must have felt helpless. I feel so terrible for him. What she did was very cowardly."

Blue woman "I think it's very hard to kill your own self. Every human loves himself more than anything else. To take your own life. The mere thought makes me shudder."

Blue woman shows her neighbor the dead girls' blog. I can't help looking at her phone screen.
My brain memorizes the blogs name, involuntarily.













Namz…loves life


I reach home. My parents think I am not well; I slam the door of my room shut, go and read her blog. The last entry was written few days before she killed herself. She seemed so cheerful and happy. I read on in morbid fascination. She talked about dying often. Was scared of dying. God! What a waste.

And then this guy, a travel blog writer, he does all the things that I want to do. He takes year long trips. Goes places with his funny friends. Writes about it. Takes pictures of amazing stuff. And I sit here in my unmovable, boring, monotonous stupor. I so wanna get out and go there. And I so can’t. I wonder who will be my trip mates. I need some sensible around me. I am too volatile to stay on one thing. *sigh*
When are you coming, my world trip?

I read about this place in Poland where the Jews were exterminated. The Auschwitz concentration camp. Now, it has been converted to a museum depicting the terror of the holocaust.
I feel hope shrivel every time I see those images, of the prisoners' shoes, their hair, suitcases, all collected in different rooms before the mass gassing. They killed approximately 6000 very single day.
I wonder what we are to call these people. What happened to them is beyond comprehension. They were murdered because of one fools command. They were denied all civil rights. Hitler upped the brutality of cold blooded madness by several thousand notches. I hope such worthless and destructive hatred will never be instilled in anyone again.

When there is nothing left to burn
You have to set yourself on fire

God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'
In that instant it started to pour

Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of that time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
You tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
And now you're outside me you see all the beauty
Repent all your sin

It's nothing but time and a face that you'll lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard, I'll send you the news
From the house down the road, from real love

Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back

There's one thing I have to say so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

~Star

Musalmaan aur hindu hai do,
ek magar unka pyala.
Ek magar unka madiralay,
ek magar unki haala.
Dono rehte saath na jab tak mandir masjid mein jaate.
Bair badhate mandir-masjid, mel karati madhushala.

~Harivanhrai Bacchan.

THE LANGUAGE

Locate I
love you some-
where in

teeth and
eyes, bite
it but

take care not
to hurt, you
want so

much so
little. Words
say everything.

I
love you
again,

then what
is emptiness
for. To

fill, fill.
I heard words
and words full
of holes
aching. Speech
is a mouth.

© 1987 Robert Creeley

How can someone not love this poem.
It is burned into my skin now.

A quiet tear rolls down your lips.
The faint taste of warmth and salt.
A half let-out sigh,
And the half inside.
Heavy on your heart.
Oh! this heavy heart.
And the sudden weakness of your thighs,
You go crashing down.
On the floor,
A crumpled figure.
Spasming. This episodic pain.


How will you explain the scars on your wrists?
These bracelets are not doing a good job of hiding them.

To rebel because you want to look cool.

To rebel because you support a cause with your heart.

And to support something passionately and become a rebel, by default.

I think of you, when I am working,

And the research document I read,
Comes as whispers from my lips,
Like a song that has been hushed.

I find rhythm in everything now.
Why have you taught me this?

These sights roll by fast. Close mountains and clean ponds.
These hills cut in shapes so tricky. One half illuminated by the falling sun and the other in the cooling shadow.
A spread of trees and virgin shades. This isolated nature beckons. How I wish this train would stop and let me explore for a day or two, this complete solitude and the lonely woods.
Parallel rays of light tumbles out from the openings of huge dark clouds.
My tired eyes find solace in these passing heavens.
A couple of wanderers here and there. How long for them to reach home?
How long for me.

Took a day off
A family reunion
Old and new cousins
Aunts with their new tales
Uncles with their money making adventures
Sleeping in the afternoon
Remembering the Ramayan days
Innumerable guests and two days of constant noise
Chants and hymns for the big people and all nighters of ghost stories and gossip for us
Falling in love and getting away with it
Ramayan
What fun!

old and sick and blind and tired and miserable and hopeless and faithless and dying and dark

When you talk I listen to you
But more than that I see you
You and all your gestures
And your eyes speaking their language
This cannot be mere attraction
I can’t look away when you talk
I can’t admire the pretty beach you want me to see
I can’t even smile
I get so lost in your
eyes
Your eyes make me want to stop time
So I can only look and marvel in the glory of being held in your attention.

Reached work, but bored already.
Life is calling, where the hell am I.
I detest sitting here and pretending to work.
Ah! I ignore my world trip for a little money making.
Money. Who the hell invented this disaster.



We met yesterday,
We went by the sea,
And held hands.
We do now what we were to do years back.
And we do it with the urgency that comes with waiting
A long wait...

Where should I start, when I am stuck in this denial mode.
You cry
You cry there all alone, because I left you
Not us this could never happen to us
But it did
I am still in shock
We were forever, so we thought
It burned our souls and our skins too.
When we were away from each other.
So now, what is this?
Why am I not hurting and you are, for both of us.
Why do I want another pair of eyes on me, another heart in my bosom, another soul in my body.
Why is my pain, not the one of separation, but of my betrayal.
So many memories
So many days
The movies, the park, the class, the lab, the dungeon staircase
The walking together in the evenings and early morning too
The calls and billion texts
The loving
So intense.
What should I do.
To have it back or what should I do
Because I don’t want it now
I don’t want you
My head reels
How can I not want you.
After wanting you for every second of my life, since we met
What is it God
What is wrong with me.

I don’t even know how I am still standing
How have I not been crushed under this suffocatingly-liberating love of yours
I am still eating, but lesser.
I am still working, but slower.
I am still living, but faster.
I am still thinking, but only of us.
I am going, I know, I am going down and under.
And I will be there till you come to take me away
From there too
You will keep me company in the asylum, I know you will.
It's liberating is it not
Oh! it's suffocating?
No it's not
Not for me
Never for me

You say I didn’t live my life, my way,
Maybe you are right, maybe not,
I know what I did back then was the easiest,
But I came back to you,
You are my personal betrayal,
I left behind my integrity and self esteem,
Because, I realized, with you they didn’t matter,
But tell me my friend, now,
Are you living your life, your way?

When a great tragedy happens, the whole world cries. Sheds tears from their weary eyes and ask why did god not give a clue..that could prevent somehow this happening. I wonder how fragile human life is and yet to let petty issues bother your existence.
What could be more of a shame. With morbid fascination, I read more. I cringe when I am into the details. The gory truth; how they already knew they were dying, that there a split-second before the surety.And no amount of wishing and praying could help them.

At random moments,
I think of you,
Once, when I was passing by in the train,
Once, when I heard Kashmir,
Once, when I read my horoscope compatibility
Once, when I took a walk by myself at eleven in the noon.
And so many I can’t just recollect right now.
And at those times, only at those times, I want to turn back time.
And live my memories once more, before life is done.

(We came to know each other a lifetimes worth in a few days. Then why do we cry when its time to part. We could be together, but it would just degrade, our love.)

Whats wrong with this world
What am I looking for
Why are people so different from me
Why was I made this way then
Why am I so restless
When will I learn to be mediocre and talk shit like people around do
When will I know my purpose in life
When will I be what I want to be
When will I learn to love myself
Why am I giving up before trying
Why am I fighting myself
Even when I know deep down that I want to be this way
When will it stop

My head is throbbing with pain but I cannot take a break. The pain is so very real. I can feel every part of my brain bursting with it. But I plug in my headphones and make it worse, increase the volume and get dizzy with the noise mixing with my ache. The drums roll and it gets hard to type. My fingers tremble with the hurt and I feel my entire existence sting. I wish I knew why I find this a better way to lighten up. Instead of popping a pill and putting it to rest, I make everything hurt and lose myself.

You know its not working. And yet you are not ready to stop your thoughts. Let go of all your old ideas. You cannot imagine them now, but there are brilliant dreams you could be missing. It is wrong to get stuck in a routine that brings nothing but despair. Stop for your own sake, stop being weak. Let your will-power rule. Let all those memories leave. Let them rest. Realize that you are making it very hard for yourself. Just let go. Let go. And welcome the new world. It will be for certain better than the previous one.

Walking amidst graves, the barren trees symbolic. Bare branches, like soulless bodies. Its so chilly, a sky that blots light. Clutching on tighter to my sweater, I move deeper into the dead. I would feel cold here, even in summer. This immense quiet. So many, beneath this earth. Even if they could talk, I would not be able to hear. Where will my place be amongst them. Where will I lain, in numbing nothingness. Will I feel someone’s presence as they might feel mine. Will I hear footsteps walking over my grave

listen to the this urge to live live and just get out and go there instead of dreaming and talking about it just go and find out what you always wanted to know find out things you were told did not exist find your existence and your dreams find every nightmare too get your answers before its too late do not wait waiting will make your spirit old and kill your soul

Its raining tonight,
Wind whispers wet nothings,
The moon is silver and bright,
My thoughts are weaved with fantasies,
Winged, they move so free.
I see you again, here you are,
Holding my hand in yours.
You have climbed down tonight,
to soothe my burning soul,
I close my eyes and feel,
what I missed all this while.

I ask to come along,
We could live like before, as one,
but again you tell me,
the time has not yet come.
I have more days to breathe
alone, here, without you.
This rain washes away my fears,
For I know it will be soon.


Made my dad read this...Needless to say, he was disgusted!

She stepped on the pedal, Ryan’s school must have left by now. Damn this traffic, she cursed. Making her five year old son wait was not a happy thought. Leslie wondered why she had gone to meet Jake. She could have been returning home with Ryan.
I have a comfortable life; a good husband, a job that pays well, a beautiful child. Why am I not happy then? Most women crave the life I am living. Even I had once prayed for this existence. And now when my prayers are answered, I am changing them. Do not be greedy, she reminded herself. Learn to be satisfied.
She and Jake had lived together while they were in college. She remembered those days, her memories colored with a hint of melancholy. How completely she had believed in their love. And Jake too. They had promised to get married, had thought of a house to buy, and a car too.

It all started with the Secret Seven and the Famous Five. At the tender age of seven, I wanted to solve mysteries, have English muffins (hot and syrupy) with tea, and celebrate Guy Fawkes day. I never got to do any of these. Then, I moved on to the Archies. So, at the age of thirteen, all I wanted was to sing in my band, go out on movie dates and eat hamburgers and banana splits. Well, I did few of these things. Later came the Nancy Drew mysteries. And at fifteen, I wanted my own car and own Ned Nickerson. I did not, naturally, get either. I moved on. This time to Harry Potter. Oh my! I still remember those days. At seventeen, I almost willed myself into being a wizard (Yes, I admit, there I was a bit gender confused). I grew past Harry and Ron and read A Suitable Boy. At eighteen, I fell in love with Kabir and hated Lata for jilting him. Many books read, many fantasies lived, but none lasted longer than couple of days. All was well and normal and boring, until I picked up Twilight. And at twenty, I wanted nothing more than to be a vampire and Mrs Cullen. Its been over an year now, but I still cant get over Edward. Oh, well, for now I can’t find anything more captivating than my beloved vampire love story. If I do, you will be the first to know!

I have read a lot of Ruskin Bonds novels and I have to say that he writes amazingly. I know how difficult it is to describe simple things, simple emotions in a simple way. There is always something that goes wrong. But not with Mr Bond. He knows what he is doing! His writings take me back to the small village I visit in my vacations, also to the places I have never set foot on. Its wonderful to find a place familiar without actually being there. Dehra, now is so close to my heart. The harsh and cold winter, the ordinary villagers with extraordinary simplicity, kindness and humanity. It is a place long forgotten.

long hair falling on his face..eyes the color of skies..brows furrowed in anguish..scars speaking about his past..lips set in fierce determination..a stubbled chin..a haughty nose..a lopsided frown..a compelling picture..draws in my gaze..

the speed of my thoughts make me dizzy..when do i fall i keep wondering..sane or not, right or not, afraid or not..i want to stop, just for a moment. worrying..bang my head on the wall, slit my wrist with a knife, hang myself on the fan..incredibly impotent anger..helpless hopeless heedless..god give me peace..give me grace, put a smile upon my face..

I don’t pray.
I don’t ask for anything from Him. Because I think He already knows what I want. And if He wants me to have it, He will give it to me; if not, then I know there are better things waiting. Going to a temple to seek Him, I don’t believe in that. Because for me, He is everywhere. People try bribing Him into fulfilling their wishes.
How can they not realize that He, is beyond these materialistic things. He looks after you because you are His Child. And like any parent, His love for you is evident, even in His anger.

I have to do the right thing, Laura thought. She had come for a walk by the park, on a whim. It was autumn and the trees were raining leaves on passer-bys. The weather was just the perfect bit chilly, a slight nip in the air. This was her favorite season, the most comfortable. Since so many days she was suffering from guilt and anxiety. She could not believe that her heart was capable of such shamefulness. To think about another man when she was so completely loved by James. She thought her heart might break up with remorse. They were seeing each other since four years. All those beautiful moments. She thought she had found her share of heaven. Everything was going as well as it could. And then she met Daniel. Almost immediately she understood the meaning of love on first sight. She took up every chance she had of being around him. She was ashamed that she was not even trying to stay away from him. She could not bear to let James touch her now. She wondered about this emotion, how could it be so feeble. Four years of love blew away in the air. All she wanted now was to be with Daniel, with such urgency and desperation that she felt she would suffocate without him. Whatever this was, it was powerfully intense. Today she decided to confess to James. Break this news on him, but gently. He had to know he was loving someone who loved not him,

I wish I had never met James, she mused. Or I had met Daniel before. But is this love that is happening now? What I believed to be true love all this while was nothing but an illusion. How am I to be sure that this emotion of wanting is love? What if a couple of years from now I meet someone else and realize that there is yet a stronger love present. Why is it so complex…

What is better? To be ecstatic mostly and depressed sometimes or to be in a general state of emotional averageness?

When your emotions are not swinging between the extremes, but move at a medium pace. Here, you will never know how it feels when something happens and your heart lits up and dazzles your soul, and you are euphoric beyond belief. Seems like a pity, not letting this happen to you. But then, you will never know this too¬– How when you are so sad you want to curl up and die, and it feels like your heart is burning at the slowest possible mode, and your life is being ripped apart with bloodied hands. Now this you would not mind missing.

Not knowing how, I have chosen the extremes. I am blessed by the Gods and cursed by them.

As soon as I reached the class I saw Kabir get up from his seat and come towards me. His eyes were red and swollen. Could he be drunk, I thought. We were still not talking! Watching him charge at me, like a bull in a rodeo, made me a bit nervous and I looked around desperate for some help. Someone tapped my arm. I turned around. It was Harish. I thanked my lucky stars, as I noticed Kabir walking the other way now. Harish and Kabir were never ever on talking terms. “Hello beautiful! You look positively delightful.” Harish murmured in my ears. I blushed little and gave him my most charming smile. He linked my arms in his and we sat together for another boring physics lecture. I tried to not look back to where Kabir sat, but somehow I could feel his eyes on me and that was not helping. Harish cracked a joke at which no one laughed and I wondered where I had gone wrong. As soon as the lecture got over I ran over to the bathroom, had to make my hair proper! This time Kabir caught my arm and pulled me in an empty classroom. “What’s your problem dude?” I yelled angrily. But he did not say anything. Just pulled me to him and looked deep in my eyes. My heart was pounding like crazy and I knew no one could make me feel so lost yet so wonderful. His angry face was suddenly full of warmth and his eyes were showering me with affection.
I tried to look away; this boy was too much for me, but he held on. Without breaking his gaze, he whispered “You know I like you so much and I know you have something for me too then why the hell do you keep running away?” “I don’t like you’ I replied, my gaze flickered between his mesmerizing eyes and moistened lips. “Why do you lie?” he asked looking perplexed. Now my heart was melting in my mouth! He was so damn handsome.
I struggled to break free from his hold and before I could go on with it, he left me! I looked at him quite puzzled. “It is still your choice baby. Either walk into my arms or walk out of this room.” He answered, leaning on the wall, looking uber cool.
I had made my decision long before he had finished talking. Well, I did like him! I smiled out my acceptance and within seconds I was in his arms. Finally, after so much fighting, arguing, and bickering we started on our quest of love.

It wasn't a dark and stormy night. Quite the opposite actually.
The moon shone silver on the world below. And the gods looked on with wondered eyes.
How could nature still beckon with her calm beauty when the war below raged on so cruelly? Showing perhaps that not everything can be destroyed, yet.
That it was still a matter of choice, between the good and the bad.
That if you tried hard enough you could save yourself from the evil around, and not fall prey to it.

These people, not one without a weapon in his hands, undoing the creator’s work.
A story gone horribly wrong. Homes left empty and streets deserted.
Since when were riots the solution to all communal problems. Maybe we are not civilized enough to go any other way. If only there were some peace in our minds.
If we could stop and think and realize eventually that nothing is above a living soul.

All these while I wondered what could have caused this emptiness. What could be stopping me from writing? I think I have found the answer. I need complications to make my creative juices flow. A serene and peaceful life will be the end of my talent. So what do I pray for now?

Its such a revelation when you realize that the total belief in your abilities was nothing but an illusion arising from the total lack of experience.