Tag: life

  • Knowing you

    Despite these nihilistic rants, I write,  a small, hopelessly naïve,  irrationally optimistic part of me wishes we could leave this world alive, together, either by rapture or  second coming, not experiencing  those final throes and violent reminders  of a life wasted — one recklessly thrown  away, despite what we’ve achieved or who we’ve become. That…

  • Recovery

    I spent years disgruntled like a weary Ufologist pitching his tent in the desert and looking through a telescope for signs and symbols, like a first-grader attempting to play Liszt until time broke me like lightning tears a telephone pole, now, aged, with regret caressing my face with her fingers like the first five syllables…

  • Carrying on

    She sits on a bench, thinking of him. She suppresses her grief as a mild breeze traces the contours of her face, reminding her of his touch. “I’m not giving in. I’m stronger than this,” she whispers, while the traffic moves on the bridge overhead, the cacophonous roar of engines and horns evoking some memory…

  • Cringe

    I had a blog here in 2013  riddled with quasi-religious  poetry and redundant imagery.  I used the same words and  phrases to convey something  that wasn’t even clear to me.  Chaff, grain, tree, moss — words I’ve now almost eliminated from my lexicon, depicting some throes and triumph, some  vague battle that didn’t make  much…

  • Meh

    I’m listening to No Surprises  by Radiohead and I can   relate to the song, despite  Thom Yorke’s terrible diction  which verges on drawling.  It’s like listening to a   dirge-lullaby or a romantic   funeral song, and I have to  look up the lyrics.   Yes, no alarms and no  surprises, and I mean…

  • A dream

    The saints ascend to Elysian realms step by step   while I only dream of chariots of stars,   carrying with me from age to age my pain and scars,   burning with false fire and quasi-pep.  The saints cross sea green silky fields,  having fought the righteous war and won with their breastplates of…

  • Burnt copper leaves

    1 As we passed   the paddy fields  on our way  to the Nilgiris,  their burnt copper leaves  interspersed with sickly green   evoked a sense of belonging   in me. A oneness  with creation and perhaps  even the Creator.   I was listening to John Mayer’s  Slow Dancing in a Burning Room   and…

  • Indian barber’s massage

    I’ve watched chiropractor videos on YouTube, where the practitioner yanks the neck of the patient using a Y-strap and calls it spinal decompression or something else. Did you feel it all the way down? He asks, and the patient responds with a euphoric grunt, a throaty hallelujah symbolising release from years of pain. He groans…

  • What is real?

    Today, you sit on your laptop, writing an insightful comment, and it’s as if we’re sitting across the table, the words exchanged, the beer, and the emoticons, the peanuts. It’s surreal and frightening. Surreal because you’ll carry with you some idea of me that will shape your next comment. Frightening because that idea isn’t real.…

  • Season 2

    They’ve renewed your   favourite show for a  second season and you’re  super excited, scouring   the internet for theories  on who the puppet master   is, or if Jack will turn heel.   Will the werewolves attack   or will the time-travelling   merchants buy them off   with promises of brilliant  futures in…