separation Zero

complete
and...
...vacant


calm
and...
...untamable


singleton
and...
...diverse


indivisible
and...
...compound


random
and...
...steady


irrational
and...
...methodical


afloat
and...
...deep


....simple and ...undecipherable.

resurrection

over two decades of existence
handpicked moments worth remembering

over half a dozen residences
but, happily, just one home

over ten thousand acquiantances
a few chosen friends

billions of thoughts
hundreds of actions

hundreds of failures
some success

thousands of lessons
a few learnings

millions of laughters
lots fake, few true

millions of tears
lots hidden, few shown

uncountable dreams
most broken, others yet to break

immense power
got burried, but emerging

free spirit
withered, hazed, but recovering

the soul
INTACT !!! and U N S T O P P A B L E ....

october

it would barely be above 20. the wind made it feel colder. the clouds stopped it from getting warmer. it was half past 1, but the sunday afternoon was blank. the day after diwali, some enthusiasts were still not over with the sulphur

a drop found its way to my notebook. the clouds were getting denser. thanks to the machines of time, or it would be impossible to figure out what time of the day it was, or what time of the year it was.

the patrol car passed by. what were they looking for? this was one of the quietest afternoon i have witnessed so far in this area over the last four months. i was halfway through my first paratha. i hurried, the second one was getting cold. and more droplets were finding their way to my table. the canopy above me wasnt dense enough. oh yes, autumn it was. they got to shed.

i stopped to hear the hum. a high flying plane. the hum was good. i liked it. unlike the deafening low flying planes that we hear once in every five minutes, or less. i wonder why was this plane flying so high, ignoring the IGI airport. whatever, none of my business.

i concentrated back on my business. i was already into the second paratha. it was cold by now., but nevermind, i couldnt have had anything better.

backstreet boys were playing somewhere. may be in one of the cars parked in front of the monestary...."show me the meaning of being lonely", a song from Millennium, which happened to be the first western album i bought. pushed me back into my schoolday memories. "show me the meaning of being lonely"... i wish i could show.

i pushed the last piece of paratha down my gut.
time to leave.
time to be lonely again.

un-MCP.... i wish

for all that we have done to women....
i dont feel proud of being a man.

tp

11:26...
i was beginning to get bored. was waiting for the call. it's been quite some time.
i didnt want to spend my sunday morning stuck to the 15 inch. theres a whole new world waiting out for me.

but no option. i have to wait for the call.
thought of dropping into the gym. its dusty and dilapitated, i know. and this is an air conditioned lab. ppl wud hate to go there giving this up, but i had something else on my mind.

yawn...
why am i even writing ? killing time i guess. the fat guy next to me is checking his application to Ciena India. i dont know what is that. i shudnt have peeked into his screen showing his open mailbox. but he was so close to the screen, i cudnt resist wondering what was he soooo engrossed in ? i guess he literally wanted to "enter" his mailbox :))

11:30... aah.. just four minutes have past. when i am with her, time just flies. and now that i am waiting for her call.... by jov... i am tempted to believe that my watch has got stuck.
11:31... GOD !!!

i am tired of orkutting.
album updated (with old pics), scraps replied, dozed and snoozed, ... ugh.. what more ?
i am logging off.

bye.

aorta

i am torn, and tattered and tired...
i'm beaten and strengthened and steeled.

i've learned to fail and i have failed to learn

i've been burnt n sloshed n crumbled to dust
i've been rebuilt from metals that oozed out of meteors
i've been soaked in the sands of the burning beach

i live in the split seconds of my blink
i move within my veins
i burn within my stomach all day
i bleed with every beat.


i live
i did, i will.

kashish

a name
a man
no story

the wound
the pain
no glory

Is it 4 ?

"Excuse me madam"
She raised her head, her lap full of pieces of tassar, maroon and beige. Two men, very formal in their gesture, but in casualwears, mid forties.
"Yes..."
"We need to talk to you for a minute"
"What is going on?" her boss interrupted from behind.
"We need to ask her a few questions", the man in the white shirt pulled out his identity card as he approached. Silence hovered the room. For a few seconds there was no sound other than the hum of the A.C.
"Okay, sure. Let me know when done", said the boss as she prepared to leave the room.

The two men and the girl in the room.
She switched off her computer as they seated themseleves. There was anxiety, a bit of irritation and a lot of questions on her face, but she was at the answering end.
"Is this your number?" the other guy handed over a slip of paper. Yes, it was her number. She could barely nod, but the man got his answer. She tried to return the slip to the man, but he didn't take it.
"Please turn it", he said, his eyes still fixed on her, "do you know that other number?"
She turned the slip. Yes, she knew the other number as well. She probably knew it even more than she did her own number. Hundreds of calls, hundreds of messages, how could she not know this number. A smile lit her face which immediately turned into panic with apprehensions uncountable.
"What happened?" she coudnt ask anything more.
"We found your number in the cell phone that has the second number. There were 17 messages sent to you and 14 received from you yesterday, on this phone"
She was getting imaptient, she was barely interested in the statistics.
"And?" she tried to control herself.
"The last message sent to you was at 4:32 a.m. today" , now spoke the man in white shirt.
"Yes, i read it this morning, but after that he hasnt taken my calls, neither has he replied to my messages", she was next to yelling. "What the fuck is going on?" she freaked out.
"Ma'm relax. Even we have the same question"
"What do you mean??"
"What time is it?"
"Is it 4?" she asked back.
"What time is it?" he asked again.
She picked up her cell phone, she didnt wear a watch. Her wrists were too beautiful to be cluttered with pieces of metal and leather.
"It is 4", she murmured, "4:05"
"Not even twelve hours, no big deal, unless his roommates had found this sticking on the collage in his room" he handed over another slip. It was a small 3-line goodwill note and a chequered pattern below it with a few letters jumbled up in boxes. She knew those letters.
"Are you familiar with those letters?" he asked, his questions were growing firmer.
There were two 'K's, two 'A's and an 'S'. She knew those letters exactly.
"Yes, it's my name"
"Excuse me??" now it was his turn to be surprised.
"I mean, nickname. Only he calls me by this name"
The two men looked at each other as she slid her fingers on that chequer again and again.
"Ma'm..." he interrupted, because it was clear she was lost in those five letters. But before he could speak, she asked, "Would you please tell me what is going on?"
The goodwill note had given her a clear idea what was going on. Her voice sunk, she was barely breathing.
The reply came, "He is missing".