Taste your salted ego.

You have been asleep so long, my love.

Slumbering restlessly in silence.

Letting the dust of everyday existence 

collect in the hollow of your bones,

nestle in the spaces between your rib cage,

dull the waters in your eyes.

It is time to arise and shake it off now.

To feel the throb of  a firefly's heartbeat 

beneath your eyelids.

It is time to accept your hurts and your disappointments

and wear them like you wear your tattoos- with elan and pride.

It is time to taste your salted ego.

To fix the broken blue clock that remained stuck at the thankless minute.

To burn your effigies of Miss Havisham and Meera.

To taste the freedom in the tendrils of smoke you blow off your celibate cigarette.

It is time.

'There is a storm coming.'

Seasons in her eyes

All I wanted was for her to not be empty anymore,
So I fed her with an orange sunset of dying love.
But it was not enough.
Helplessly, I watched as the seasons changed in her eyes and Monsoon burst in full swing.
I could do nothing but float tiny, blue paperboats of 'Maybes' doomed to drown in her black rain.

Wasted Moments like Spilt Honey

Days like these remind me that my tiny room is an eye of the storm. I lie down on my red and blue chequered mattress and bide my time.
The moments drop down slowly like spilt honey, their sweetness intensified by an acute sense of loss and waste.
Never again will I have this moment.
 Never again will I be this young.
 Never again will my heart be as strong and my mind me as bright.
 But what does it matter?
My toe crosses the imaginary line of my sheltered nook and lo and behold! There is restlessness and mistrust and delusion that this is important.
Anything matters.
I will make a difference.
I will succeed.
Success.
Such a pitiable word.
People keep trying to make it big in life. Have a successful job, marriage, social circle. I would like to think I am successful today. I have not a heart that belongs to me. Neither do I have an intense desire to belong to anyone.
I look out of the grimy glass vent at unassuming pigeons mating with abandon. This moment is forever. 

Little Life Hacks- A Diary Extract

Road to Delhi from Manali
6:5 p.m.
July 2nd, 2016
(Extract from Diary)

Last Day

Sometimes you don't need an eternity or a forever to be happy.
What he kept telling me- live in the moment-seize the day-
But 'cest la vie'.
Sometimes bravery is not in doing great things- it is in doing the little thing- the mundane, tiny things without losing hope or motivation. Every day. Without being swallowed by the tide of routine.
A simple act of determination to be happy- no matter what- to go on- to never give up.

Throwback to 2009.
" It is so easy to be sad. To dwell on the negatives. But Happiness... that takes courage."

To make sure that you wake up, dress us, show up- every day. To not drink your coffee too black or smudge off the red lipstick with the back of your hand when you look in the mirror and can't remember how to smile. To not forget that the highest walls might have scalable windows.
I have been taught this by unexpected people.
Tiny little life hacks.
It is so true, you find people in the strangest of places.
And love,
maybe in the strangest of places.
Like yourself,

Last day of Summer-2016

I sit up on the mattress and
crack my neck slowly.
First one side and
then another,
Next come the sullen knuckles
and with the 'pop',
a smile.
It is the last day of Summer
but still the feeling of Summer lingers on-
May with all it's parched- to -the- bone nights
and sudden, silly romance.
June brought new heartbreak and
feet spiced with wanderlust,
counting shooting stars with new friends,
July and the rains breaking over me like
they knew I was waiting for it-
 a day's delay and it would have been too late.
Discovering new horizons-
immersing in petrichor
and dreaming of brilliant blue peacocks
on Monday mornings.
It has been eventful, the last few months.
I milk each day for a feeling or an image and
store it away,
behind the broken bits of forgotten kisses
and stolen glances.
I gather all my memories
and compress it in a blood-seed.
Maybe someday it will sprout the
essence of Summer-
Happiness, Life and Hope
when I need it the most.