a tribute to rocknrolla

Smoke. There are two kinds of smoke.
One, that's for attention. from the early days. smoke signals. to draw people to you.
second, is a facade. smoke blown in your eyes to make you look the other way. to fool you.

and if you think about it. that makes two kinda smokers.

the pseudo elite bastards that smoke for attention.
and the real rocknrollas who rock and roll while you
are crying your eyes out.

Twist

Years and years she waited
For a prince charming to ride in
Never another man she sated
Until the prince managed to her win

Everyday she prayed and prayed
For nothing more than wedded bliss
Never worked and never paid
But a family life, just this

The wedding came and went
And so did many other things
Nine months was soon heaven sent
From an angel with pretty wings

But on that fateful day
Out came a toad without delay
The only twist that wretched the wife
But without a twist, what is life

fear

For years I had played that lil’ prank on his mother. Hiding behind doors and in closets for her to pass unwarily. And then jump out with an almost gentle “boo” until she screamed and leapt out of her skin. Many a time she even hurt herself from the fear of that gentle boo.
Lil Arshad was lying on his back, like most 6 month olds in his crib. I hid in the closet and when Mumma left, I jumped out and screamed, “Boo”
He burst out, laughing.


P.S:
Fear is something you learn on the way.
Do one thing everyday that scares you

Magic

The summary of the last seven years of my life – magical.

The details would take me seven times the time. Each second. Each moment. Each breath. Each everything. Everything with her, about her and together.

She tugged at my heart with heaven-sent harp strings. Her words, honey coated dewdrops on my now sugar coated mind. Like an angel kissed life I lived with her.

Then she left. Without a trace. It nearly killed me but it was worth it. And I knew her secret all along. All that happiness, the otherworldly love. I knew her secret. She never slipped up, but I caught on from the first day when she said “Hi, my name is Maya.”

so....

well i guess i've come up with a plan after all.
i realised that i've got tonnes of writing. whether its writings for other websites or any thing else and that i might as well share it here.
i guess it's time to come out of the closet. well not that one, but since im a closet poet, i might as well open the doors and let in some sunshine.

so from henceforth, i shall start putting up my old stuff, one by one... and hopefully along the way, the newer ones as they come too.

hopes and dreams....

Crap. Again. Repeat.

It's been awhile since i read my own blog. Or for that matter even recollect in some remote corner of my brain that i did have a blog.
So i read it.
And i read about all the confusion i had on what to write and the likes.
Here's my conclusion. I still don't know. that's the only explanation i can come with for not having written since then.

so much has happened since. i write for other web pages. I've put up photo blogs and covered website logs. but here, is dead. gone. kapooey and kaboom.

so much has happened. i've moved cities. moved dreams. moved people. people have moved on. written, sketched, partied, photographed, scribbled, dreamt and slept.
like the nuances of anyone's life, mine's moving up and down and round and forward and backward and still.

i still don't know why i care about this blog but after a year and a half, it seems like i do.
i still havent figured out what's wrong with my comment settings. apparently no one can comment and i dont know how to change that.

so with new-born inspiration i shall hope to write again. write something. try again. and im sure like my other enthusiasm, it'll hopefully last the weekend.

and until something re-inspires me, or re-lights my angst to write, i guess it'll be the last you hear from me.

maybe. maybe not.

I'm Back

I’m back.
Forget the showstopper. The heartbreak kid. Or all the lovely gimmicks I pull including being a stand up comedian or a half wit clown. Forget the phenomenon. The attention puller. I mean forget the attention. I’ve even got A.D.D.

So enough. Enough wannabeing any of the numerous authors I get inspired by. Forget the witty quotes, the humorous dialogues. The puns, the idioms, the similes that smile. The entendres and the double entendres. The whole playing with the language like its your best bud thing. Enough.

I aint ready for it yet. I’m writing advertising. And I’ve deduced that it’s a whole different ball game. I need more time. More reading. Bigger vocabulary. Discipline. And a whole load of things to arm myself like a soldier, before I battle out writing a book.

No, these are not excuses. I promise you! I know what excuses are. And sometimes the truth seems lame. But hey, you got to face it.

Now, I decided to forget trying too hard for the fancy writing. I’ve decided, I shall just use this to record memories.

Things I want to remember, but most likely forget after a while
Like Taj Land’s end. My first trip to Mumbai. Or my new cam. My first hundred photos. My travels. My trips.
Mostly my travels.

Which I know, I will not do any useful writing with, so I might as well record it for eternity. And you never know, maybe I’ll be famous through my travels. Maybe the travel writing. Maybe it’ll improve my writing. Maybe itll store inpiration for me to write later. Mayb itll get me writing.

And then. maybe I will write something worthwhile. And I’ll become the showstopper again. The heartbreak kid. The stand up comedian and the half-wit clown.

these amazing barrack at Dandeli, Karnataka....Visited it last year, hoping the photo is a ncie one... i think it is hehe.