Another's note, my birthday note

Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.

— Charles Dickens

Quote Post

I’m going to make everything around me beautiful – that will be my life.

— Elsie de Wolfe

Sandra.

I think of your pearls, your golden hair and you manicured nails. I think of your bright, gentle eyes. I think of your denim skirts, and your room on the first floor.
I think of your neatly made bed, your giant chair on wheels;
Your Mac and as a corollary, those reading-glasses that sat at the tip of your nose, while you worked. While you worked.
I think of the oversized oeuvre of Klimt that spanned your wall.
I think of the sparse nature of your room, the couch, the lamps, and the spotless floors-I think of thinking how you kept them like that.
I think of how you brushed your teeth in the CHCI bathroom, during lunch, like it weren’t an oddity.
I think and how you spoke- so fast, so articulate, so strong.
I think of the time you boiled broccoli in a pot, and tapped the lid.
I think of how I felt when I was with you-the amazing fortitude you inspired effortlessly.
I think of your empathy, your lucid eyes that listened patiently while I spoke; every cell of me listening while you spoke.
I think you were Sublime.
You ought to know that.
Thinking of you, Sandra .

A gilded frame for a Starry-Starry-Night
London, 2012

From London, with l

After many many months do I enjoy the silence I’ve created around myself — born of a sudden aversion to conversation. I’ve just sat -recumbent on my chair- and stared out of the window as London illuminates. Descending planes flicker in the blue-grey sky and you come back to me…

The scent of your presence, an aristocratic blend of Chanel Blue and tobacco; the lucidity of your blue eyes. The nape of your neck and how it showed against the collar of a certain grey jumper. The brawn of your arms when you undid the furniture.

Vivid in my reminiscence, I can imagine with certainty how you must have smiled at the stewardess when your plane departed for an Eastern Land. And I wonder if it were a black t-shirt that you wore.

You are (so) irrevocably endeared to me.

A very favourite friend of mine --with a flair for all good things -- made this wallpaper

"Beauty, and the Beholder"

Coffee, Ink, Dried Paints and Eye-liner

April 2011

A Piano

Think of:

A night's unremitting sky,

Like it meant slumber for all--

Okinawa , Moscow and Haiti.

The polar bear and the tropical frog.

Think of:

A river, smiling at a squall;

Elephants (7), along the same river, on walk;

And the stars' twinkles falling--

Placid raindrops.

Do you hear a piano?

I had a poem in mind, but it didn't quite turn out like I had imagined. Leaving that for a better day. Writing to say that I am pretty damn tired of myself, today. Sigh.

Hope we win tomorrow. Please.

Found a sweet Haiku; will literally take seconds to read.

In the evening twilight

Only the mushrooms

Are illuminated

Keji Baba / Age 12 / Japan

aaj jaane ki zid na karo

In that toxic high I tried to find myself; heavy cloud of numbness, which drifted away slowly… and when it had drifted away, it was too late and the fool was me.

I’m so lost in complexities -I have a thought for every thought. A counter thought for a counter thought, and another one for that. I think I am losing spontaneity. But well, never was it mine...

Falling out of character.

Who said there isn't character in that?

I saw the setting sun and the silhouette of a temple.

30.12.2010

If I met you one day,

For certainly I would-

Sooner or later,

Here, there or some place else

You should know

That, that coincidence is

Anything but coincidental.

But when my face

Mixes surprise and nonchalance,

Both for you, and your presence,

On that one day, one time and one place,

Know then,

That coincidences, however wishful,

Are not rehearsed.

alone time

I have decided to stay in for these winter holidays, and I find it difficult to keep myself blissfully occupied. I have spurts of wanting to go back home, spurts of wanting to clean up my apartment, spurts of wanting to cook something fancy. Spurts, they are meant simmer and die.

I went to the Christmas market yesterday. Sanitized French air imbued with scents of Cinnamon, butter and roasted nuts. Little wood huts at the city centre selling French delicacies/ banalities - crepes, hot wine, bread and nuts; I bought a crepe-Nutella and no, it wasn't divine. I had trouble eating it.

They have a way of doing the lights here though. Falling drops, starry trees, lights to conjure an endless street... As the light fades, so does the electrical wiring and lights grow. So, when you cross a street in the midst of a French throng, which you do even otherwise, your gait spruces up. There is glamour in crossing the street.

The cold is numbing, and I tend to walk with my chin tucked into the muffler and hands in my pocket. Then, returning home to my apartment of many lamps is comforting, and the light factor doesn't dim. Moving out again takes courage, and it's avoided till restlessness threatens again.

I read this today-

“Ishq and Mushq” are the two things you can't hide- 'ishq' being Love and 'mushq' being Smell. The latter I know of, the former I haven't yet experienced.

I never thought I would say this, and i've been wanting to for some time now...

I miss Pizza Hut. I miss working there.

meeror meeror on the wall

For you. Cause something tellin me that you be readin'

I forgot what.

No, i remembered. Yes. The earth is a sphere, and it moves in circles, around a sun, which is spherical, and around the earth there is a moon , which too, just by the way, is spherical. Life is to be in circles. And we ought to be comin' full circle every now and then...

Those moments happening to me.

PS- Saturn's rings too.