The ‘4:20 Somewhere’ Rarity!

See… I’ll tell you the difference
You are a straight white line
You’re a single snort away from poofing.
While I run in the circles made of infinity
I’m a never ending rarity
No number of pots will ever be enough
To build what’s broken.
I took the morphine with me
When I left from that door,
Your ‘4:20 Somewhere’ rots in my closet

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!

Go, Abscond!

I don’t know how many of you out there are looking for a sign in the universe, so here it is,

Darling, this is your life, own it, let them miss you for a while,

Let your absence be the answer to all the questions,

Go, Abscond!

Barcelona Day 1!

Before Barcelona shows you anything, it’ll show you free will!

And love if you ain’t the free will kind, don’t bother flying across oceans, come this far and let the albatross wing size city of liberals disappoint you.

But if you do, let it go!

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on its roads, the graffiti being made over and over again, the artifacts getting older and more valuable with their outdated glimmer and growing worth.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!!

Mallorca Day 1

Mallorca looks like the school project from above the clouds, the one that we used to orchestrate for historic structures! It’s astounding to witness something so enormous to be so laid back. It’s a wide, wet, lazy island, not the kind that’ll make you yawn but the kind that’ll make you wanna play your life in your head, one more time.The kind that’ll count every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take,’It’ll’ be watching you!!

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).

Not A Waste!

Tomorrow,

On a Saturday morning,

My songs would wake up to the high waters,

They’ll glide through the storms,

And sing to the summer,

Walk towards the west,

Looking for the meadows,

I’ll thunder through the hay,

And shine brighter than the lightening,

Oh well, I crave the impracticable,

But, Ohh what a waste,

If not!

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