Nescience

I am like an alcoholic or a druggie who relapses, time and again. It was something of a mystery to me that I make so many resolutions, but fail to follow any of them through. That is when I discovered my true nature. It was rather like waiting patiently on a machan and hoping for that elusive tiger to appear, but I tried to observe my behaviour with the same disaffection. I like cleanliness - as long as it's not me who has to clean. My room resembles a field that a tornado may have passed through and from then on, it's a downhill journey - literally. Mountains of books and clothes pile up in the room, and a treacherous path between them is my normal route in the room for months. Then one day, it's like wiping the glass clean and I am noticing the filth for the first time. I run the cycles on the washing machine, get out the iron and within the day, my clothes are washed, ironed and folded in the closet. Gathering the books and stowing them according to the authors and subj...

It has been more than a year since I updated this blog. I had forgotten about it quite happily, as I chased my imagination through the realms of fiction and reality, when my friend Disha reminded me about it. What is it like, returning to a thing you know you loved, held sepia toned memories of close to your heart? It may not exactly be what you had imagined and glossed, put up on a pedestal due to the absence. It may have changed, you may have changed. I used to love the feel of colours on my notebook. Every hue, every stroke mirrored my thoughts and became an amalgam of colour and me, spread out on a paper for all to discern. I no longer experience the same, when I hold a brush in my hands. Passion is the fuel of life, for me, and the reason of motivation and excellence. Though I try and fail in many things, I fervently hope for this passion. It makes me observe the world, not see, though ignorance too often blinds me. To Disha, for reminding, there was one in the first place, Pooja

“Here she comes…” His friend nudged him as the girl of his dreams walked in through the door. There was no need for that nudge, really. He lived for every chink of her anklets, every playful dance of her hair strands and the flutter of her thick eyelashes. The room brightened at her very presence and doves began fluttering around, invisible orchestras played the song of his heart and for that moment, only two of them existed. His heart thud-thudded as she walked up to him. She was gorgeous, he noted, his heart squeezing with the mere pain of knowing that she was not his, that she considered him nothing more than a friend. But he was thankful…At least that way, he got to spend time with her, know her and fall in love with her every time she tossed her mane behind her shoulders. There was a spark in her eyes and a dimple on her cheeks as she made her way through the crowd. “Hey!” He waved his hand at her. Still holding one hand behind her back, she waved her hand in greeting sidestepping...