Divine Psychosis

2010-11-06T14:44:00.001-07:00

Supernatural powers if I had
I would muster up all sadness into a lad
I would stick it with pins and needles like a voodoo doll
And when it writhed in pain
I'd stick it deeper again.

2008-03-25T01:00:00.000-07:00

Since I'm not doing anything even remotely earth-shattering, I think I'll make this almost mid-year resolution to blog more frequently... Maybe chronicle my mundane days as well...

Well, as far as work goes, it pretty much SUCKS!... Lack of motivation, lack of direction, lack of class... basically a lack of everything... Then why am I still here?... Only the Old Black Dude up there knows perhaps... (After watching Bruce Almighty, I swear that God is a Black Man who looks like Morgan Freeman:-))... Waiting and watching and chewing cud... That's what I'm upto... Hopefully something exciting rescues me from this perpetual intellectual lethargy at the work front and otherwise...

Remarkable says that I'm downing the spirits and blowing the smoke rings a little too much and a little too often... Wise Man doesn't say anything... He's of course very wise and after spending so many years wallowing in my company, knows better than to sermonise me...

Folks would rather be happier if I made a quick retreat and returned with bags and a fat suitcase to the City of Joy... Not happening right now at least... Well, I had a sort of a long weekend... Frantically tried to make plans of a quick getaway from the Hell hole that's my life... Failed miserably... partly 'cause I'm surrounded by unenthusiastic, broke losers... They're all quite nice, mind you... but not my impulsive, adventurous type at all... So the weekend came and went with me trying a bit too hard to make it last a bit longer... sigh...

I didn't play Holi and I don't play Holi... Petrified of the festival where people completely lose control and try to take liberties... Don't really like masks... and people with colour make it impossible to identify them... Wise Man and Roomie had a blast at a friend's place... Booze, colour and a kiddie pool apparently made their day... Good for them... When they did return, I didn't let them near me or my bed or my room or my walls or my soap! hee hee...
I have tried to discover the charm of this horrendously wild festival... As a kid I would lock myself in my room and hope and pray that no one came for me... Almost 24 and I have managed not to give in to the Hol(y)i wiles... But after my self-imposed confinement, I would stealthily part the curtains and watch the neighbourhood kids at play... That was ok, I guess... from a safe distance... and the only thing about the festival that intrigues me is Bhang... Another Holi gone by, still not tried it...

This week has brought on a new sense of low... It's intensely hot outside and freezing in office... Throat is always feeling bad...

Old friends have given way to new ones... I mean they're still friends but not like before... But I guess no one's indespensable... The novelty will have to wane some time, right? Often reminds me of the lines from Merchant of Venice: "...the pageants of the sea,/Do overpeer the petty traffickers,/ That curtsy to them, do them reverence,/ As they fly by them with their woven wings..." The context in the play itself is different but then I think it can fit here as well... That's one of the gazillion things that's cool about the Man from Eton... His words have so many connotations... I wish I didn't lose friends...

It's my 24th birthday in two weeks! 24! 24! 24! I feel old... Just yesterday, I was 13, then 16, then 18... And now I'm 24 and have nothing to show for it... Good grades, yes... and if I have to believe people, I have turned out pretty fine...ahem! (Talk about being self-obsessed... My computer at office has a pic of me in Mcleodganj sitting at the foot of a waterfall... The pic makes me feel happy and optimistic... I can get out of this, I keep telling myself...)
Coming back to my upcoming birthday... In the prelude to it, I'm oh so excited but on the day itself there wasn't a more depressed, defeated, cranky person... My loved ones have quite a field day... But I don't know why...

"I don't know why"--- That pretty much sums me up for today at least... More later... Toodles!

2008-01-03T03:02:00.000-08:00

My life is a charade...kisses in the air and making mundane conversation with people who don't really matter... who I wouldn't even miss if they were not around or kicked the bucket...which ever came first...I'm smoking like crazy, hoping that each day finishes as quickly and effortlessly as a cigarette...but it never does...At the end of it, I'm tired, distraught and end up going home hating every single one of these morons... I mean what are these bloomin' idiots so happy about? I'm sure their life sucks as much as mine, only they lack the insight to see it... They go on living a lie... and that lie becomes their life...

Took some facebook survey today... (That's what journos do when they refuse to work) It was about how normal you are... There was this question about whether I would like to change something about my perception of life --- as in be more positive etc... And I said 'yes'... How bizarre! Here I am, totally downgrading and bitching about these 'loser excuses for human beings' and then I want to be one of them? Maybe temporarily, yes, but at the end of the day I'd rather be a miserable, old woman who knows about life than a twit who thinks that he has had a "happy" life... Funny how easily I can write when I'm depressed... (Some asshole trying to act smart with me just broke my concentration ...*#@$*#) Hmmm... So where was I... Ah yes...Who am I kidding...I revel in depression... It's dark, comforting, it's home, it's me, it's my life...

THE HILLS CAME ALIVE...(PART-2)

2007-10-11T23:05:00.000-07:00

13,051 feet above sea-level! That was our destination... The journey to Rohtang Pass, which connects the Kulu Valley with the Lahul and Spiti valleys of Himachal Pradesh, was a trip to remember... After we checked out the local sites in Old and New Manali, there was a sudden need for adventure... Lack of time and poor physical condition meant that a trek was out of the question... Then my Dad suggested (over an STD call to Kolkata) that we should book seats on a guided tour... After extensive deliberation we decided to follow parental guidance... The few times that we actually have...But as I have reluctantly come to accept that parents are always right...because this trip was going to be something out of this world...

First, I absolutely must speak about our co-seekers of adventure... They were this motley bunch of Tamils all the way from down-under (and I don't mean Aussieland)... These 20 odd people who were presumably from a small village or town in Tamil Nadu, insisted on increasing decibel levels in the bus, changing their lungis in public and most importantly littering the hills with un-recyclable plastic packets... We also had a young couple, on a honeymoon sort of vacation and an elderly Bengali couple who visit Manali every year and sat on opposite windows in order to enjoy the scenery...

We made a rather lengthy stop at a shop that rents out fur coats and boots with the Tamilian party choosing the most outlandish animal-print coats and boots, while we, after much debate about the need for fur coats, settled for the sober brown and grey ones... Even in Rohtang which literally means, 'pile of corpses' I refused to be caught dead making a fashion faux pas...

After passing the picturesque Solang Valley and a quick stopover at the small but beautiful Rahalla Falls, we made our way to the last stop before Rohtang, where we had some Maggi which was half-cooked... I also learnt that that was because it is difficult to boil water at those high levels...

The climb to Rohtang was chilling! I'm serious... Thank God for the fur coats... even though my 'Doubting Thomas' self kept telling me that the driver and guide were getting commission and were fooling us by saying that it was going be really cold... Coming from Kolkata, where you have temperate climate almost the whole year, there's just that much of cold that you can imagine... But en route Rohtang it was bitterly cold... High altitudes, the onset of Autumn and to top it off it had been raining the whole day... So the otherwise cool breeze seemed freezing and what could have been a comfy picnic turned out to be a hazardous, extreme expedition...

Initially the drive around the hills was exhilarating... A zillion turns later, it got unnerving... As we continued to climb upwards as if seeking some kind of spiritual transcendence, my stomach churned and heart leaped up to my mouth incessantly... I'm not scared of heights but narrow and sometimes bad roads with buses and trucks coming from the opposite direction, where you have chances of falling into the recesses of the valley at any unfortunate moment, brought to my mind all the horrific tales of buses carrying pilgrims rolling off hills... What I had read earlier with detachment and indifference seemed so personal now... I strained to remember the actual fact... Was it a drunk driver or brake failure that had caused the mishap? For the life of me I couldn't remember... And the fact that I saw a Maruti 800 and a truck that had fallen into the mountains, totally smashed, did nothing to assauge my fear...

But snow eluded me! No where did I see snow... I really wanted to as I had never seen it before... My biggest regret on the trip... Alas!
Nevertheless, some poor consolation, were the bits of dirty snow patches that had been there for ages...Gulping, gasping, closing my eyes and cursing the driver we reached Rohtang...

After reaching Ground Zero, we were asked to walk the rest of the way... Walking to the actual pass was not that tough... Fighting the light drizzle we huddled to the actual pass... The view was breath-taking, even without the snow... But the walk back took my breath away...And I mean literally...I could hardly breathe...As we walked against the wind, it blew with a new-found vigour... I was sure that I was frost-bitten... Fingers stiff, nose running, I resembled Rudolph... Panting and walking for dear lives we reached the bus, only to have the ridiculous Tamils jeering us to our faces...(Disclaimer- I'm half-Tamil, so I have nothing personal against the community) The smart-asses didn't even venture out, as if that was a very intelligent thing to do... You come to Rohtang and go back to your friends and boast that you saw it through a bus window! I may have almost collapsed but at least I had first hand information...

Anyway the drive back got worse instead of the other way around... Thick mist and clouds had descended on the hills... Reading, listening to music and praying most of the time, we made our journey down... Even the Himalayan mineral water bottles fallen on the Western Himalayas (what an irony!) couldn't be discerned... But just when we had resigned to the fear of the unknown and the maneuvering skills of the driver, we stumbled upon the most perfect rainbow! It was the best sight ever and I hurriedly caught it on my phone camera... A distinct giver of hope... I knew I would survive the difficult journey, not only from Rohtang, but also the journey called 'life'...

The rainbow was one of those once-in-a-lifetime sights that make every tribulation, fear and risk worth it... Today as I sit in my boring office, surrounded by the day's mundane work, it is that picture on my mobile that lifts me up when I'm feeling low... It gives me strength to face today and all the 'tomorrows' of life...

THE HILLS CAME ALIVE...(PART-1)

2007-10-04T23:21:00.000-07:00

When you leave the city (and it doesn't matter which one) and travel into a quaint little place, you can hardly imagine how inept your life is... Living in a big city makes one forget the simple joys of life... Unhappiness, depression, jealousy, OD-ing, sex and greed are subconscious companions... But in a little town tucked away in the Western Himalayas, amid the Deodars and the clouds, life moves at its own pace... Unhurried, un-flummoxed, uninhibited... You learn to relax and your body tunes to a new rhythm...

While sitting on a bus en route Manali, as we drove on the winding, curvy roads, with the bus precariously balancing itself, rising higher and higher from sea level, going deeper into the 'Valley of the Gods', I failed to realise how far away I was actually moving from my big city life... Not in terms of geographical distance alone, I was leaving behind a peculiar life, culture, ethos and thinking...

At first sight, Manali disappoints... Too quick to make judgements and too fast to dismiss things, I looked at the hill-station as an impoverished cousin to the more illustrious and tourist-friendly hill-stations... And no, it doesn't matter to me that two former PMs had given Manali their official seal of approval when they chose it as their solace from politics and parliamentary affairs. I make my own impressions.

New Manali was, in my opinion, a town that was forgetting its identity. Changing itself to suit the palate of the foreign wanderlust, New Manali is a bustling town full of hotels and restaurants like Sher-e-Punjab (Pure Veg!) and Sher-e-Punjab---The Original (Non-Veg)...

Full of locals, New Manali can sometimes be a tad rowdy with youngsters having no way of giving vent to their hormones. They delight equitably by a chance visit by a Bollywood hero, Sohail Khan as well as two donkeys satiating themselves in the most public and indiscreet way. (Both are first hand accounts and not exaggerations of the idle mind)

Old Manali, a few kms away from the New Town, is an altogether different place. Tourist-y? Sure. But in a quiet, subtle sort of way. Old cafes manned by Tibetans offer English breakfast, Israeli lunches and Italian suppers. Most hotels and eateries are by the river (Manaslu) and having a river running so close to your feet as you sit down to eat, surrounded by a constant gurgling (which is not your hungry stomach) is a totally different experience...

Living here was like living in excess and decadence---excess of food, excess of dessert, excess of fresh air, an excess of everything (if you know what I mean)... The first thing to catch your attention are the apples... Trees and trees full of rotund, red, juicy apples... Actually there are apples everywhere---on the sides of roads, in neat mounds at the foot of tree trunks, in drains, drying on porches, in wine bottles, in pies---they can be found everywhere except in a shop!
The next thing that you can't miss even if you want to are the number of hippies, 'charsis' riding in bikes adorning the worst-possible rags. I mean seriously, what's with these firangs and their clothes! Some of our Indian beggars are better dressed than them...sheesh!

Amid the yaks, unbelievably fluffy rabbits, old, smiling people and beautiful, wild flowers that grow un-nurtured, you'll also notice the lack of political signs and paraphernalia... It's as if this place has purged itself of every kind of pollution...

Old Manali is a queer mix of Tradition and Modernity... The constant dichotomy between the Natural and the Acquired... But that is also what draws you to it... It makes you forget your home and desire to be part of this delicate balance that exists between Man and Nature...
(To be contd...)

2007-02-19T02:43:00.000-08:00

When thousands die everyday because of hunger, war, disease, hatred...A wise man once said, 'Is there nothing else in this world other than 'you' and 'me' and 'us' and 'we'?...
When millions perish unnoticed...is it okay to drudge mechanically, making lives, building careers?...
When we hear of genocide...is it enough to shed a few tears, heave a sigh and have intelligent conversation about the meaningless suffering?...
How are we to make a 'difference' to this world, sitting in offices, manoeuvring a mouse? Who will help those who need to be taught about health and rights and education and life?...If all of us do our 'own thing' and pretend that such people, such a state does not exist...is only a figment of imagination...a cinematic illusion on screen, to viewed in awe amid mouthfuls of popcorn and coke...then who will make a 'difference'?...
Sometimes I wish I could go to a remote part of Africa and serve a greater cause...But these are just thoughts...Tomorrow I will go to office as usual...And I will fit in perfectly in the jigsaw called 'modern life' and will forget all about these ponderings...till another film or book will cause a Catharsis of emotions...and I will again sit down to write about what I feel I must do...Then I will feel noble and virtuous and moral and right...and then will I slip into a slumberous satisfaction...But never will I go to Africa...

2007-02-16T03:34:00.000-08:00

You're as boring as the white paper...without the words written in ink...
You're as boring as the night sky without the stars...
Even in diseases, you're a Bore...Because you're a consumptive disease that gnaws away the life painfully slowly...and lacks the drama of a cardiac arrest !
You're the incessant dial tone of a telephone...monotonous, predictable and always the same...
You lack the everyday sights and sounds...
You lack the zest of life...
You're a fullstop lacking dimension...

2007-02-09T23:24:00.000-08:00

I'm falling into the throes of darkness...
I fall, I weep, I bleed...
As darkness engulfs me like a shroud, I think of my life gone by...
A life well-lived?...May be...
I don't know how many lives I've touched, or ruined...I don't know if I actually wield that kind of power...
As I sink into the impenetrable darkness...I see you...
I see you in all your glory...I see you as pathetic...
I see you the way I saw you the first time...
I see you the day I fell in love...
I see you the day I loathed your touch...despised your sight...

I Thought of Writing...

2007-02-02T00:23:00.000-08:00

I was being repeatedly interrogated as to why I was not updating my blog...Well, I thought that since I usually spit out some really morbid shit, I should temporarily defer my intellectual outpourings to a happier date...So to inspire myself that the world is not a totally unfortunate place and that I too am capable of 'happy' thoughts, I decided to revive the nascent optimist in me by reading some 'fast-reads' kind of novels...(Notice how I say 'nascent' and not 'dormant'...) Well, blunder of all mother of blunders I picked up some tongue-in-cheek Indo-Brit/ Indo-American novels where the protagonist (all girls, mind you...)are in search of their ever-elusive Indian roots (in oh-my-God-please-don't-bend-over miniskirts...ahem)...Books on the usual identity crisis of the ABCD (American-Born Confused Desi)... Stuff to read on the train perhaps or may be, if you're hit with a temporary spasm of insanity like yours truly...
Now, I'm hardly writer enough to call the kettle black...But as is the way of the world, if you can't do something...you can become its 'critic'... To be honest, these authors have some tolerable sentences but the books have that forced idea of India full of salwar kameezes, arranged marriages and lack of women's liberalisation (Makes me wanna elope in a bikini to the nearest women's rights meeting right this instant!)...
Again we won't pay much attention to my rantings and try to keep the focus...After the rather 'sad' tales of ornate yet conservative Indian culture vis-a-vis the exaggerated freedom of the Western world and after putting myself through that self-inflicted ordeal, I picked up the 'Collected Stories' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez...
And I am ecstatic in my declaration that Marquez too is preoccupied with Death and life beyond it...He basically explores the unknown..whether it's the experience of Death or life after it...His language is brilliant... His vocabulary is rich but not rich enough to give the reader mental acidity...Marquez plays with images that signify Death---grave, shadows, insects... The stark reality of the pain that his characters endure before they can finally succumb to the Inevitable was excrutiating even for me as I read and became part of the text...
Marquez delves into the dark recesses of our minds that shuts out the ugly, seedy side of life...that wants to remember only the colour and fragrance of a rose but fails to ackowledge the sensation or pain of the thorns... He forces you to recognise the reality of Death...Death is the only Constant thing... It is not to be feared but to be waited for... Marquez shies away from romanticing Death, much unlike our Romantic Poets... He gives Death its own identity, its charm... Death gets the opportunity to free the Spirit from the agonised Body...But Death fails to redeem itself as there's no freedom for the incorporeal being that flits through walls, rooms and gardens... The Soul trespasses into a new weightless, spaceless world but cannot gain complete trancendence... The inner Spirit is trapped in this other world as it was in its original mortal abode...

Disclaimer- These observations come after reading the first 3 short stories....More on this as I read...But the important thing is (I don't know whether it is good or bad) that I am back with my Faithful Companion--- 'depression'--- with a renewed zest...

Suicide note of a 22 year old...

2006-09-23T02:51:00.000-07:00

To whom it may concern...

This is to notify you...nah! Sounds too corny... I am dead by the time you're reading this (or may be no, if some moron tried to save me...thwarting thus, the courageous attempt to sacrifice my life)... But if I'm indeed ' no more', I wonder if it was brave of me to kill myself or an act of supreme cowardice, height of escapism?

The sole purpose of writing this letter is to inform everyone that no one is responsible for my death... It was a well-thought of, planned act... And I was the sole perpetrator, egged on by circumstances, nothing else... So, if someone has to be punished, accused or held responsible for my sudden, untimely, premature etc, etc, demise...it's the Fate Sisters...ha!ha! try getting them into a Court of Law...

The question my beloved parents and loved ones are wondering is, why did I do this? What pushed me to take this extreme step... Depression, feeling of failure, loneliness, bankruptcy, heartbreak?... Probable answers but not the right one to solve the mystery of my death... I'm sure all of the above have influenced my life but not my death...

What if I was to say that I got fed up with life? Life was just not enough... Or life was just not worth it... I wanted to achieve a state of transcendence... I wanted to break away from this life in order to seek a better one... A life which poets dream of, spiritualists meditate on, philosphers preach about... A life that would cease to be a figment of my imagination... A life which would come out from the dark recesses of my mind and become a reality...

I want to tell my parents that I love them dearly and that they should take care of themselves and should never blame themselves for my death...

And now, I'm sure you're wondering whether I achieved the life that I desired? Or at least how is the state that I'm in right now?... Well, to know that you will have to join me in the heavenly abode or fiery pit... And we can live our life together...

p.s.- Psst... I'm watching you...

Raindrops on thorns...

2006-09-23T00:36:00.000-07:00

So how does the rain falling on the the Qutab look? Beautiful I'm sure...
I'm sitting locked up in the four walls of a routined, mundane existence...
We try to forget the beauties that lie outside while we trudge rather mechanically on our ways...And pretend that the rain doesn't exist... And while we negate the beauties that lie outside, we diminish our souls that lie within...

After a blistering Summer, comes the rain to soothe the parched land of its arid woes. So, too does a new love, to allay the doubts in a pessimist who has lost the power to believe...

So how does the rain falling on the Qutab look? For you still have eyes to see... I have no sight, no appreciation of the myriad beauties that surround me... I have just fears... Fears that keep me alive, the fears that kill me everyday... Good sense and rationality are old companions now... Fear is the monarch of all that it surveys in the mind and heart. Undisputed, it thwarts all positive feelings and conquers happiness. It's sucking out my life from me.

I'm a lifeless body, as I lie in bed. Writhing in pleasure, wincing in pain. But still I'm lifeless. Like a whore who feels casual pleasure but feels no love. A transaction, signed, sealed and delivered.

She sees no love and feels even less...
You move in and out, you don't know what you do...
Sometimes, I'm uncertain...
Sometimes, I imagine it's not even you...

You ask me why I cry,
I know not why I do...
It's just the pain that I feel inside,
The pain of being with you.

Of fairy tales, heartbreaks and tears...

2006-09-16T00:10:00.000-07:00

A life full of roses and cotton candy...
A life full of romance and cartwheels in the stomach...
A life with a Prince and a Princess...

Nah! Life's nothing like it.

Life's a race to fight extinction, fear competition, battle from getting 'jaded'... I don't write well and I never will... 'Cause I can't express myself and what I feel... May be because I feel too much and too many things and those exceed my calibre of writing.

Dreams in my eyes, perfumed dreams of things I wish would happen... In all this I lose sight of my goals. I'm too caught up in emotions. Must try to let go of you, myself and my life. Detachment is difficult 'cause I have a constant need to feel needed, wanted, pampered...to belong... Pathetic!

Lost all self-esteem, ego, pride...
I'm but a shadow of my former self.
Life's come a full circle...
Heartbreaks, tears, callous behaviour, selfish words and even more selfish deeds...all come back to haunt me... And I think that life's not a fairy tale and there are no 'happily ever afters.'

A Prince and his Princess, a world full of light,
A thunder, a lightning, dream breaks,
Darkness.
A feeling of feeling jaded,
The need to belong.
The mind in a box while the heart resides in a song.
To dream was so blissful,
Reality bites.
It leaves its scars, gashes, bruises...
To let go is tough, but a thing I must do.
For we have no future, me and you.
Off on our separate paths, the mind urges to go...
But the heart is weak, weeps score by score.
Making meaning of this, is but in vain.
'Cause words have no meaning when written in pain.
My life's a tale that I, an idiot, told
Tell me if you like it, I will explain the pain treblefold.
Fairy tales and love stories are things of the past,
Lies, betrayal and one-night stands are all we're left of.
One word, one touch, a kiss and a dance,
Are illusory machinations of a deceitful heart.

Musings on the Marina...

2006-08-27T07:25:00.000-07:00

I pen these thoughts, sitting in the moonlight and the world around me intoxicates my senses.
The twinkling moonlight dancing on the waves...
The waves trying to reach me, but they fail as they're so frail...

As I pen these thoughts, I think of you..You, and the waves and the moonlight fill up my senses with an everlasting longing...The sound of the waves competing with each other to tell us its tales... To tell us its happiness and sorrows, and tales of tomorrows...
And in the distance, there's a lone ship trudging along...And as it beomes smaller and vanishes out of human sight, I'm overcome by memories of yesteryears...

Some clouds cover the Moon and block my view...
People come and make me forget you, your touch, your smell...
But you're etched in my mind for ever... Your memories are indelible...
A little kid comes selling 'sundal' and breaks my reverie... I shoo him away but in my mind you stay... So, I call him back, give him a buck and return to my thoughts...
Thoughts that make no sense...Thoughts that lack causality... Thoughts have no chronology... But thoughts I must pen to escape reality... Thoughts that are my solace, my friends...

Far, far away, where there is no fear... I must go there one day... 'Where the mind is without fear' as Tagore said...No compulsions of the mind, no urges of the flesh... Where you and I can exist in an untainted state of bliss... I must go there one day...

Sitting on the sand, my thoughts are perfumed by music...
Words come out like lyrics of a song but they don't make sense and seldom rhyme...

I've left my family behind... The only friends I have are the stars above... But they too have forsaken me for another perhaps...

My writing is mine for ever... I'll never share it with anyone... Maybe because they are too personal... Or maybe because my writing is not good... (Yet, look at me now...)

Voices in the distance herald my future loneliness...
I'm as far away from human company as the voices are from me...

I look at my surroundings and think... I look at the world and it's ever-changing, so are its people...

Writing down one thought after another as they come to my mind... Is this 'stream of consciousness' ?

Eyes feel strained...the light of the Moon ain't enough... Much like my life which seems beautiful in its perfection but its luminosity is bleak...

An astrologer once told me I will work in distant lands... Does that mean I will cross these seas? But the sea scares me with its power and depth and makes me aware of what I lack... But I have power and depth... Then why the doubts... My ambivalence kills me...

Suddenly, the sea is quiet... Silence descends like a shroud... I don't know what to do... I have nothing to write... But then the sounds commence again, renewed with a new-found energy. My life requires constant action, else I'll fall asleep, I'll do nothing... Life gives me challenges and all the action that I need... But the question is, 'Am I always ready to face the challenges? Am I ready to face life?'

The ship's reached the other end of the horizon... I sit staring blankly at the sea... The sights and sounds don't fill my senses any more... My thoughts are exhausted for the day...
I prepare to go home... I wish I could say I prepare to go 'house'... Because it is only a 'house', a concrete structure devoid of family, with a dearth of friends, lacking love and warmth...
The place I call my home... seems beyond these seas somewhere... The winds carry to me my mother's voice, my father's warmth... And as I languish in this alien land, I know that I miss them the most.

Why this blog?

2006-08-18T06:19:00.001-07:00

If life was only that simple that you could express it in words...Life is inscrutable and any endeavour to decipher its cryptic codes, can leave one exhausted...But a wise man who loves to laugh, once told me that it is a tremendous relief to vent your feelings in words and display it for public viewing...So, here's the origin of my blog that will have some of my most private musings (both fiction and non-fiction)...Humour me, criticise me but you can't overlook the Divine Psychosis of my mind...So go on, delve into my psychotic mind and partake of my reflections...