There is no calm, there is no peace.
My poems –
just restless afterthoughts.
Is it the withdrawal symptom of a changing weather,
maybe after a day or two,
my heart will find its mystical ease.

I wish it was effortless,
To be so many and not just one.
A tiny bit taken from all good souls,
understanding deeply the core of my own.
But I am so restless,
even tears need reasons to implore.

What a blithe cry of melancholy again,
the emptiness of being, creeping on my mattress again.
Go away, I beg.
The good souls need to do what they do the best.
I will pray for a little longer,
in a hope to silence the devil in my head.

Love? Shit.

Writing is like therapy. When we read somebody else’s banter of wisdom, most times it feels like a pile of crap unless its ofcourse quoted by somebody with some “validation”. I have a million thoughts everyday. I can’t talk about anybody else, but I can’t stop thinking. And everytime I go back to my diary and read through its pages, I notice myself contradicting my own wise words more than anything else. Sometimes I am in awe of myself. Earlier, my writing was a flow and I envy that earlier self. Today, I feel forced. I do it out of habit, habit to keep talking to myself, habit to stay restless or to find some “meaning” every single day. Its infuriating. I feel so old.


Just so you know and for the people who are interested in this inconsequential banter – I am in love. Unlike people who talk about the abounding beauty of love, I think its nothing less than a world war inside my head.

I hate it.

I liked being single. My mind used to be restless for knowledge instead of thinking about his touch the night before. I used to create stories out of my fantasies and my happy hormone used to kick in with so much of hope.

And now – I am living a nightmare. Every week and I mean – every single week is a roller coaster ride and I don’t like roller coaster rides. When I went to Imagica a few months before, I did not play a single one of those “deadly thrilling rides”. No thanks, but I would rather not kill myself with the anticipation of having a heartattack in any of those insides-coming-out-as-lungs-fall-off rides. Same reason, why I don’t watch horror films.

So basically, I don’t like being in love. But I know there’s no getting away because I have a wise side too – which knows that I am going to regret letting it go when am all wrinkly with a cat for company. You know what comes with this “deadly feeling of love”? Possessiveness, insecurity and if you are a self critical, realistic person – then, misery. I am miserable. Yes, like crying out loud miserable. And mostly, sad. Perhaps because I know that the only person who can make me happy is the person I am in love with. And that is sad. Even if all the great lovers of the history would say that its not, their record of screwing up so bad is not very encouraging you see.

They say frustration is important for satisfaction. Allow me to quote this interesting piece by Adam Phillips which I picked up from my favourite website – :

However much you have been wanting and hoping and dreaming of meeting the person of your dreams, it is only when you meet them that you will start missing them. It seems that the presence of an object is required to make its absence felt (or to make the absence of something felt). A kind of longing may have preceded their arrival, but you have to meet in order to feel the full force of your frustration in their absence.


Falling in love, finding your passion, are attempts to locate, to picture, to represent what you unconsciously feel frustrated about, and by.


All love stories are frustration stories… To fall in love is to be reminded of a frustration that you didn’t know you had.

I wonder if all lovers try to help themselves in their illusionistic utopian world and console themselves that its okay. Because in reality, they are in deep shit and there is no way one can walk out. If you are a good artist, then you are good at convincing your misery to be utopian too.

I am doing a lot of breathing exercises these days. I am not constricted up my windpipe. I am just in ridiculous pressure of being in love.

I repeat. It sucks. And like most therapy sessions, this one ends with more confusion too.

Thought of the day

The best antidote for pain is the will to heal.

Thought of the day

I am sometimes amazed at own fascination with men. Their resilience and their simplicity. Their tough exterior and their softest hearts.

I melt for them.


Its madness I think.
This fascination with my worst enemy.
Ashes made of bronze and mixed with gold
Here it is.
Laughing oddly,
at my quest to explore.

Fly, fly.
But where to in this weather?
This body made of flesh and blood,
This mind made of a million nerves
That jest for value
in its sublime times called youth.

Oh, there goes the story told and untold
How tiring one must wonder this heart to be.
Cool down, the summer days.
Pitter patter on my roof a little, they say.
Remember to not just make it rain.
Do you hear me?
I beg.
To not make it rain like a tornado yet.

Where will I go, you wonder. Don’t you?
I guess it will be death like its supposed to.
Laugh, laugh.
Its never I who mattered anyway.
I give up today,
on life in its ephemeral state.
But its just shutting down the shutters
that bugged with the night’s buzzing mates.
I am not over yet.
So don’t you worry.
I am not over yet..




I no more feel fascinated
by your strange attire
or your moustache so clumsily talking of pride
I no more feel indebted
to show you your path
to be your messiah
or your ego’s uplifting might.

I feel nothing
and like nothing this may sound so naive
What a pity that is.
I knew, it should have been this way

Take. Take. Take.
Take what you must.
I have nothing to lose.
My body, a temporary identity for few
My soul, like the dust –
storming away or settling in rain.

I no more feel the attachment
that once used to be your armour of love
I no more feel guilty
by the thoughts that
you wished were mine.

Was this what I was waiting for?
“The nothing” must be peaceful, I thought.
I tried looking at the stars up there
but all I saw were the tips of endless buildings above
And walk, walk, walk
I walk as I must
Not knowing quite the deal
to reach all beyond
I smile, smile, smile
I wonder what all the nothing could be like..

Thought of the day

Better to know a few things which are good and necessary than many things which are useless and mediocre.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson belonged to the school of transcendentalism which believed in independence of the self, from all that is bounded or indoctrinated.

I was having a hard time today, channelling my negativity to its origin. And this came as a much needed wisdom for the day. An unknown frustration kept engulfing my sanest thoughts and everything seemed very dark, perhaps even meaningless. I don’t want to be ashamed of admitting how I have been obsessing over the meaning of life for a while now. Most times I would even blame people, situations, ‘the cage I have made for myself’ – for these sporadic bouts of restlessness.

In times like these, I surrender to the know-alls of this universe and feed on their thoughts by reading about their lives- in a hope to somewhere connect with mine. Over the time, it has taken a lot of conscious effort to not delve into them more than I am capable of. That includes films for me, where I end up living the character and his/her decisions if they even remotely reflect on my experiences of life. That thought too deserves this beautiful quote by Arthur Schopenhauer (who spoke about “the will to do something” as not being under the conscious control of man):

A constant flow of thoughts expressed by other people can stop and deaden your own thought and your own initiative…. That is why constant learning softens your brain…. Stopping the creation of your own thoughts to give room for the thoughts from other books reminds me of Shakespeare’s remark about his contemporaries who sold their land in order to see other countries.

Schopenhauer used to say that The world is my representation where “Man can indeed do what he wants, but he cannot will what he wants”. I find it very interesting, because our thoughts are channelled by any void in time and space. That void could feel full or empty, brimmed or scarce. And our mind’s energy start to channel from these thoughts of a particular moment, which soon reflect on our actions.

So, maybe it is not our thoughts that we can completely control. But rather, the knowledge that made them. Hence, the (full) quote of the day. I repeat:

Better to know a few things which are good and necessary than many things which are useless and mediocre.

What a great treasure can be hidden in a small, selected library! A company of the wisest and the most deserving people from all the civilized countries of the world, for thousands of years, can make the results of their studies and their wisdom available to us. The thought which they might not even reveal to their best friends is written here in clear words for us, people from another century. Yes, we should be grateful for the best books, for the best spiritual achievements in our lives.

I sure feel grateful.


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