my dear friends...

as a response to my earlier post, i had a few calls/emails from very worried friends asking if "i am ok"...well this is not the first time i got such a response, infact it brought back a conversation i had with Hrishi once about how people "generally" tend to think that what one writes is a direct offset of one's own life....so it figures one friend actually felt my last post was bordering on suicidal !! to put matters to rest, i told him as i state here, that i am perfectly happy and that was a stream of thought, which could stem from any of the following - past events, daily observations, inference, conscious, sub-conscious, or pure imagination and general thoughts on life events. so my dear friends, its all hale & hearty, and i love you guys, this incident tells me you'd all care :))

and yeah, maybe next time i'll think about adding a disclaimer ;)

i think of going away often. wake up and leave them all, in the hope they shall know that it's necessary sometimes, to give it all up and lose oneself. like a glass vase shattering into innumerable pieces, and sparkling, ever the more. in forcing you to collect all the pieces together and establising contact with the vase, otherwise sitting in a corner, mostly forgotten. would the silent life in the corner not shed tears of abandon and years of routine? does the glorified attention of shattering not worth the attempt of your attention and touch. in a flash moment, didn't you think of where the vase had come from, and the flowers which bloomed ever the more in it? the space which is empty in the corner now, but will come alive with the thoughts whenever you look there. how you'll look at empty spaces and see the vase, when you looked at it and saw none of it. this is how empty air takes shape in sublime thought. that is my corner, and i think of shattering often.

a simple life

what then shall i watch

if not these snapshots of an indifferent daily?

how do i sit hidden

from where my eyes cannot see your frame? 

how do i not know 

when you shall return and what you shall eat? 

how do i not love you more, even if tragically? 

how do i not obsess, when i know how soon it disappears

and then i shall open the box of clutters, and marvel at my collection. 

and live, yet a bit more.