The Gold Flame!

It’s been years today to the first time we bro hugged,
First time since we sat across tables freezing and bugged,
First time since I noticed the color of your eyes,
First time since I stole a sigh,
First time since you switched places on the road,
First time since we shared the dense smoke,
First time since our jittery first nudge,
First time since the Italian was a waste buck,
First time since I decided on my cure,
First time since all firsts pure,
Here we are, today, in many of our firsts,
Like the gold flames, at a pinnacle!

The Closure!

The closure
I think comes to you in a million ways,
Sometimes in ways of the world falling apart
And sometimes with a chance to put it all back together,
There will be baggage, of-course,
But then you’ve aced the art of solo travel darling,
Remind yourself of all the fiercer bulls you have leashed
& shoo this little pup away,
Remember,

You’re not the La La Land,
You’re the Oscar for it!

Grandma’s Abode!

There are lives I have lived,
There are lives I haven’t.
There are hopes I have abandoned,
There are dreams I have forgotten,
I’m no superhuman,
Nor do I intend to be,
Like a humming bird
I fly back and forth,
I relive hopes and dreams,
They fear no death,
For none shall have one,
Like grandma’s abode,
We meet each burning fall,
With a promise!

Memoir!

When you are in a memoir territory, emotions become dominant at large. So much so, that once while reviewing a memoir, a New York Times Editor, (also a reviewer, a playwright, a critic, etc.) Neil Genzlinger, looked at the audience and started by saying, “A moment of silence, please, for the lost art of shutting up.”

-And I feel you Neil!

Madrid Day 3!

Travel more and you will know every corner, every lane, every city, every country is writing its own story book! So was Madrid.

Gran via over the years has seen the history-changing on its roads, the graffiti being made over and over again, the artifacts getting older and more valuable with their outdated glimmer and growing worth. The massive doors wearing out! The 100 yrs old street that has hustled through time holds so many memories hard to look away from, oh the number of heartbreaks it must have witnessed, the number of love stories that might have started here, the number of people that may never come back, the number of people that never left, the millions and millions of footsteps and each with a story! What are the chances ‘You and I’ sat on the same street, in the same cafe, stopped by to see the same window, passed the same fragrance of baguettes, just what are the chances!

It feels so overwhelming to be a part of a street that started collecting stories a century ago when ‘You and I’ did not exist, our stories hadn’t even started, but Gran Via stayed put for you to reach here and add another page to its storybook (and maybe one to yours too)!  

Mallorca day 2

Among a lot of other things, traveling comes with a clause of distance! Distance from what you love, who you love, your routine, food, lanes, lifestyle and else. It’ll tell you what you don’t like for sure, more than what you do. All in all, do it! Experience it, it’ll basket you with a million things you might not know about yourself!!

The Mirror Side! (3)

Living once in a while,

Forget once in a while, are we living at all. As much as of a cake walk it sounds, it’s one mammoth of a task. I guess mostly because now it is a task. ‘Tasks’ in itself is tag that emits exhaustion! Have you ever heard a group of girls saying we have to finish the task of shopping? No right, you see my point.

I have lived by, what I have grown up listening to, from my supremely (sometimes unnecessarily) optimistic mother. “There’s always something”, if my mom was the knight who was saving the princess, she would leave the castle whispering in the dragon ear, don’t worry, it happened for a reason, drop a bandage and leave.

Well, I, on the contrary, would not say such things but maybe leave a bandage behind (mothers DNA). It has been an insane fude between the two minds that walk parallel in my head. The other being my very strong headed, practical father’s DNA, who’d be like slit the dragon’s throat, we don’t have the time for tears.

While I have been between the battle of the sexes, I have fairly managed to pull through my not so perfect life and believe you me, lived it. Legitimately, lived it. I love the fact that I’m alive, I breathe, I can touch, sense, view, comprehend unfathomable beauty and atrocities, all at once and separately.

And that’s a lot for someone who constantly tries to judge, choose reactions rationally and then react, at least to my capacity. The distress and saddening hypocrisies that I come across each day is so consuming, the stereotypical money making flesh we have turned into, for what?

To pay the bill of food we decided to go eat at the fanciest restaurant in the town, while we look into our mails for the next day? To buy a health insurance for 60’s? To die in the most extravagant house with the most exotic funeral dinners or a 14 day lavish get together in case you’re a Hindu (yes, even death ritual is larger than life for us).

Remember talking? Whatever happened to that!

We don’t anymore, like we used to do!

(Part-3)(END).

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