here all the bombs fade away

Sitting around a candle, trying to form a complete sentence. Or, a headache at 5 in the morning, and we wonder aloud.

I really want to go a-travellin. Thinking how to go about it.
few weeks of bumming around, a routine is alluring right n-ow.

bad trip. bad trip. as the bathroom floor swirled around, and giant droplets hallucinated rainbows.

trying to be okay since then.

if you think i am dissociating, it's true.

When we arrive
Sons and daughters
We'll make our homes on the water
We'll build our walls aluminum
We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now

Norwegian Wood gnawed on my insides. It was a beautiful gnawing, i must say.  It was worth the sweet wait.

Roaming the streets at hours beyond sleep, sun high in the sky. Hungry and feeling slightly askew. My summer fringe is shorter, i like it ahaa-n. Would you like a cup of tea, mister?

Today the lane seemed narrower than ever, and i tried talking to a beautiful grey cat, only to be stared at with great disdain. Floated across the asphalt, then, thinking of a heartbreak. 

full

Train rides are an essential aspect of travelling- staring into the vivid sky and across the green, always a blur of darker green.
Revelry often involves an adamant frog and music which throbs steadily into the tremble of the night. Outside, incessant insect-music and tree-conversations. A bohemian man drinks up the beer, staring at stoned young strangers across the thatched bamboo mat, and insists on talking eloquently. Before the fire crackles and shoots tiny star shaped sparkles into the darkness, something slithers behind the circle making my wretched city-heart shiver.
I smile as we stare into faces, half-known, cosy in our familiarity. Quaint wooden uncomfortable bunk beds filled with the scatter of the temporary, the busy. All our dreams mingle in the ritual mess.
Dusk, we sit on a tractor, filled with sand, jiggling chests, shrieks and thick, still, swirls of smoke from the chillum.
A slow trail of rickshaws, almost a caravan, snakes its way through crumbly red lanes into the heart of a closed market. Fireflies, like stars, pulsate everywhere, lighting up dark trees, and the violet sky dances nimbly, slowly, taking its time like a caress.
Bauls sing known songs, and we stare at the half-moon between two branches, startled as someone unknown, faceless lights a cigarette and his contours slowly become visible.
I sleep happily, in another room, and run through the jungle in the middle of the night. We meet a bunch of snarling langurs sitting close together, and a small one on a tree. I think of a languid hour spent in a circular red room, staring at kindred trees, head resting on my bag, and fold the image carefully away for keepsake.
:)

One, two, three. four

If I have been too presumptuous, I sincerely apologise. Last night was special as I realised how love and hate coexist in different vestibules. I am really sorry if I have hurt you. To put it simply, I think i am finally over this entire mess. but I also want to tell you that once upon a time, ancient as it seems now, I really liked you and considered you to be a friend, and for me, that bond was more special than anything else. (I think the photographs are wonderfully warm, by the way)

Memories are strange, you know, even though you think you have deleted particular depressing blue moments, they suddenly creep up on you and then you can only gasp for breath. 

Right now, what we are doing is more important to me than anything else, and God knows we are working our collective asses off. Yes there are times when we feel that it's not going to happen, we won't be able to do anything, and there'll be no revival whatsoever, but then there are euphoric moments, there are moments after a hard day's work when we sit under our tree, and that huge chunk of hope and happiness engulfs us as we feel, no fuck everyone, this is going to work out, we ARE going to make this happen. And it's so beautiful to see every corner of the country responding to us, and getting ecstatic! I can only feel grateful, cross my fingers and hope not to jinx it. 

As brainscrewed as i am, it felt nice to confess.

"Sweetheart bitterheart now I can't tell you apart
Cosy and cold, put the horse before the cart

Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes
Too scared to own up to one little lie

Oh, you're changing your heart
Oh, you know who you are"

....................................................................

as a friend said that day: tooo much dramatixx! :D

hey hey hey hey.

To much drama happening! haha. but i stand my ground firmly. Anyone can justify anything, like I can say er, that I can talk to people without an actual conversation happening,. like ourminds are speaking over tens and thousands of currents, or suchlike. I can't be vicious after a certain point, extremely stoned right now. And, well, what i have understood is that some people never change, and well, they are not meant to! Such sincere hatred for noone else in this world. you coward, hope an annoying orange nibbles your brain into tiny pieces.

okay, this is going nowhere
love

Every spring reminds me of the time in school when the tree outside my window started sprouting scarlet flowers, and it was examtime, and always always a bunch of new books from the book fair lying around tempting me to run to the bathroom, sit on the pot for ages and read, read. Or that time when the chhaad in Bijoygarh was ideal for daydreaming, and the cuckoos used to go crazy singing to the tunes inside our heads.
And then stolen hojmi and kaancha aam from Shreo's neighbour, and staying at her house for weeks, and giggling at night over a crush on a class six senior.
Now, there are only  memories, and a tremendous sadness tugs at my throat, and I know the world's all fucked up, it's all strange. 

Call this shameless publicity, but i would still love you people if you would read my scribbles here: http://www.ujaanfestival.org/blog/ Support this cause, and gear up for the festival- with lots of sun, great music, beautiful people, and fresh local seafood! Also, I promise to give you candy if you start commenting on that blog, and like my daily updates. Do leave your feedback, and make me a happy girl?

a singularly strange week, as one year leaped to strangle a new one. I might lack coherence, and mutely observe. Forlorn, slightly stoned, mad colours behind my eyes. But, never expected such strength from myself. An almost dying best friend on my lap, speech-slurred, eyes rolled backwards, tiny hands holding my bosom, and the tragic stench of vomit. Surreal night, and you seemed so solid. Hospital action, sick heroic dad, endless caffeine, people people, mad rush of people, dying youth in the nightmarish, very sanitized lift. Blue is the colour of sleep. Blue is the colour of my new found self.

There's a lump in my throat. I can't help it. I'll miss you so much this festive season, and new year's eve won't be the same without kissing you at midnight and you laughing at the drunk me. Cheesy, but true. :(

"Gray, quiet and tired and mean
Picking at a worried seam
Itry to make you mad at me over the phone.
Red eyes and fire and signs
I'm taken by a nursery rhyme
I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine
No, nothing else will do
I've gotta have you, I've gotta have you.

The road gets cold, there's no spring in the middle this year
I'm the new chicken clucking open hearts and ears
Oh, such a prima donna, sorry for myself
But green, it is also summer
And I won't be warm till I'm lying in your arms

I see it all through a telescope: guitar, suitcase, and a warm coat
Lying in the back of the blue boat, humming a tune... "