Into Your Eyes

What do her eyes wish to tell me that her lips hold back?

What is it that makes her breath dance with her pulse?

My fingertips gently paint unseen lines along her blushing cheek.

Her hair washes across mine as her smile plays hide and seek.

Deep, is the ocean that hides behind her eyes, she wants me to see.

For her pupils dilate to show more, when she is in waltz, with me.


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Sing A Song, Sing Along.

He sat on his bed, legs hanging out, a toe on each foot touching the floor. He watched the dust particles float in the beams of the midday sun pouring into his room through the gaps between the curtains. He looked to his left and saw his shades. He picked them up and got up to leave but plopped back into bed, with his pillow filling the space on either side of his head.

He stared up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes and breathed out.

“Hey, singer!”, she had teased, the previous afternoon. 

“Hey, song.”, he had smiled back. ‘That was good’, he had thought to himself and she had smiled with a raised eyebrow, in agreement. 

He opened his eyes and his pupils shrunk in response to the light in his room. He had to see her again.

He opened his eyes for real this time and fought back, against the darkness that was engulfing him. From above his face, a doctor shone a torchlight into his eyes and his pupils shrunk again. He wasn’t going anywhere, any time soon.

The motorcycle tester was back on the track a week later and when he returned to the garage after a test run, he parked the bike, took off his helmet and kissed it. He then looked over to her. She smiled so bravely for him but he was not blind, just a little bald for now. He walked over to her and kissed her forehead.

“Hey again, song.”, he smiled.

“Hey yourself, singer.”, she blushed.

biker piggyback




I’m finally writing about this… Where do I even begin?

Every little thing.. Everything about me today has a memory of you.. Or is it…my version of you..?

From the day we met, in that workshop to the day we parted, in that parking lot, you have been the most important image in my head.

Starting out to as friends, to become family and then dancing to fate’s tunes, only to become strangers once more.

Call it fate, call it karma, call it what you want but whatever brought you into my life certainly wanted to heavily leave a mark in me and to change me.

Well, whatever it is that brought us together is, in a child’s heart, something very cruel for it ripped us apart. Especially the way it did.. But we’re grown ups now, aren’t we.. We now see that in life, people come and go. We’re not kids anymore and so, we try and float with the flow.

The way someone comes into our lives, establish their importance and claim your love for themselves is just… I don’t know if I should call it amazing or atrocious… Yet, it happens. To all of us. And when they leave, they take away huge chunks of us and replace them with pockets of emptiness and we can try to deny all we want, acting all matured and everything..

But the child in us, the child that loved the child in them can never be kept quiet for too long. The inner child misses its companion and it cries out every now and then. We’ve come to call moments that remind us of the other child “triggers”. A convenient way to distance ourselves from our feelings, so cold and clinical. Yet, that keps us going, in this practical and cold world..

When the tiniest of these triggers can sucker punch you when you least expect them to, the pain of how you were hurt seems to become forgotten for a little while and you just miss the one you loved with all your heart. Just for a little while, like morphine till it wears out and that heart starts to hurt again, too much to let you sustain the good memories any further.

A sister.. a brother… a significant other.. a son, a daughter, father or mother… Family isn’t always bound by blood, yet in the end, blood always proves thicker than water. It does so, for it has no choice. That is how they exist, blood and water..

A sister…

True love is learnt through tough love. True pain is taught, not through heartache, but by denial of heart. The pain of never knowing if there ever was a heart or if it always only existed in your head.

Memories come through, in flashes of senses. You remember the image, the image never dies and this image is kept alive not just through sight, but through touch, smell and sound, even taste. So there really isn’t anywhere to go but to let the flashes go through you.

Karmic debts.. Till they are over, you can’t get rid of someone and once they’re done, you can’t keep them with you. Rnanubandhana. Gotta thank my fate for dropping these words in my life just before I might need them.

We all have such stories, such lessons and such memories. Good memories, bad memories… If you’re here today and are reading this, you know what I’m talking about. So just know that no matter how alone we are, we are never truly alone.

The truth is, even when we are alone, we are all alone together. Ironic, isn’t it?


“Life is for living, machi.” – My memories of unconditional love


Art courtesy: Original

So all we can do, is to live it to the fullest. Ups and downs are what make life alive after all. When you look back from your deathbed one day, if your life is a movie worth watching, happy or sad, you’ve done it right and that’s all that matters in the end.

Just…make your movie watchable, make it all count, yeah?



A Ride Amidst The Race

Rev….rev rev…..revvvvvvvvvv and GO!

A jumpy start and off we go, from from the start line. We give it our all at the start to get ahead. Corner after corner, overtaking our comrades, wanting only to see no more rear tyres in front of us. We rush in a cluster of energy and bustle through the track fighting to make sure the pent up potential energy is optimized.

It’s not just a rush, it’s the rush! Life is a race and those who don’t give it their all, get left behind. This is what we’ve been taught since we can remember. You can’t afford to stop to smell the flowers on the side, you have to save your hide. Rush now so you can relax later. It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, it’s a race and you have to do what everybody else is doing and be better at it than them. This is what we’re fed since we could eat solid food.

But do we really stop, even for a second to think what it is that makes that person win, no matter how hard we try? Do we even respect that victory we strive so hard towards?

Winning is indeed everything but the prize is what you choose to win, not what they tell you it is.

When everybody is out there, racing for the same victory, the champion who seems to cut through the crowd fearlessly, who keeps getting farther and farther ahead, is getting there not because he’s doing what everybody else is doing or because he’s better at it. It is because of what he’s doing different from the rest. That, is what sets him apart. That is what makes the winner a true champion.


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Like everybody else, he too knows what he wants but unlike the rest, it is how far he’s willing to go to get it that truly matters. Now you may argue with me that his bike might be better than the rest but then again, even in MotoGP, there are two riders for the same factory with the same bikes, who are on very different levels.


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I’m not saying you should compare yourself to your peers. No. What we need to do, is to find out what we’re good at and I mean really find out! It’s the little things that make a big difference. If we can identify those little things and apply them to our race, we can then cherish our own victories.

Unlike the races we watch on tv, desperately clutching each others hands, not knowing what to do with all the tension and excitement, life’s race doesn’t have a single and defined finish line. That’s why the line “life is a race” is misleading. Sure there’s immense competition in every field but what we need to remember is that we are not all racing to reach the same line.

Personality develops when comparision ends

The truly happy are those who are accomplished, without ever feeling any less about themselves than anyone else. They are happy because they figured out that the only real aim in life is to be happy. Now “all this might sound good to talk about but reality is very different” may be your reaction to this but if you think about it, if you’re unhappy in life, only you are to blame….apart from the ones who screwed you over. But then again, in retrospect, you shouldn’t have let them. But things happen. We can’t live a normal life if we don’t have some measure of heartache. That’s part of the learning experience.

If you ride a two wheeler, I’m sure you’ve tried being the first person to speed away from the rest of the traffic when the signal goes green. I’m sure you’ve raced with random other riders as well. The ‘provoked when revved next to’ attitude, the rush of the chase, the ego of the race, the elation when you win by crossing a line you decided would be the finish line, the injured pride when you lose and the mutual respect shared when you both have had a good race. I know you’re nodding and slightly smiling reading this.

It’s never a good idea to race on public roads, yet we do it. Why? Apart from the fact that we’re psychotic baboons with death machines, bikers and cagers alike, we do it because for those few seconds, we feel free. Free from everything else that define our lives in a society.

And yet, there are those days, when you just don’t care. You don’t bat an eye when someone with a loud exhaust pipe revs next to you. You don’t feel the need to race, you just wanna ride. Those are the days when you’re truly living your life. You maintain a steady pace, you’re in no hurry and you take in what the ride has to offer. You let other baboons pass you, you actually don’t care if the rest of the world passes you and you just ride because it gives you joy. This is what the true meaning of “life is a race” is.

When you don’t budge when provoked by another’s irrelevant success and when you’re on your way to yours, you have already won.

You are happy.


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Characters in Cocoons

Is it all really just in my head? Yes.

This is a bubble that needed to stay alive till the end of this time slot in my life. So I kept it alive.
However, as that time is coming to a close, the bubble which I so furiously defended is finally going to pop and I’m going to let it. The actual image for what it is had been covered up with one of what I wanted it to be.

The actual character of the character had been denied by the other character and had been substituted with a character that the second character needed the first character to be.

Years have now passed and now it is time for the second character to move on to fully accepting what the first character’s true character is. The latter always knew of the former’s true self from all the times the former had blatantly shown it, yet the latter could not let that be accepted lest the latter had to face the fact that the former had never been a part of the latter’s life as it was so badly wanted to be.

The second character wanted to stay the second character in order to believe there were other characters in the story. But the truth is, the second character is the only character in the plot. The first character was made up by the mind of the lonely, loving mind of the second character. The first character has always been a program generated by an entity that wanted to share the matrix with another entity.

The truth is, there is no first character. The first character is a lie. The second character is the only character and everything else is merely part of the matrix. It is always a dangerous thing to lie to oneself and now the allowance for the romance of that lie has outlived its scope.

It is time to face the climax of the matrix and so all other fun and games must now end and the escaped must be committed to. The second character IS the first character and all of the other bubbles that arose from that will be popped. The character that is the epitome of all characters will also be absolved and the matrix will be dissolved.

For all things that come and go, love alone stays true for it is unattached and that is the way it works. Love for the matrix is a lie and love for love reaches beyond the sky.


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Mr.Red & Ms.Green

When you go through enough sharp winter, the warm sun decides to embrace you and make the cold blunter.

This is the story of Mr.Red. He’d always been a bit of a romantic deep down, despite being anything but that on the outside. He’d seen much disappointment, much pain and much betrayal. He’d even come to a point where he’d decided he’d had enough and was being a bit of a hermit, Mr.Red.

Along came Ms.Green, quite the drama queen. I say drama queen in the nicest ways I can mean. She saw him, he saw her, they were both already in. Yet she’d been hurt and he’d been through similar dirt. They tiptoed towards each other very carefully. When they were close enough, the walls came up and the battle commenced.

Bullets, bombs and mortars. Missiles, mines and turtles. It was the most fun they’d both had in a long time and a portal was finally opened when a truce was duly called. The portal was a tunnel of bright and vibrant colours and in there they met, with all their powers. People wondered which end of the tunnel would reveal them walking out. But no, a secret sub-portal had been made separate and in there, is their place till date.

Mr.Red and Ms.Green were from opposite corners of the colour wheel. Yes, this wheel has corners. They were angels to eyes but devils in disguise.

Their games and battles were fought and won equally. One would win and the other would grin. The winds of change had cradled them both in cushioned cocoon of eddies that glow. Soon enough, the winds had to ebb their ebb and resume again, to flow.

The time in the eye of that storm was frozen and went on to show the world that Mr.Red and Ms.Green lived in, that breezes too, can be made eternal. They parted in one world and agreed with the winds to disagree in another. A world engineered and architected by them, of them and for them.

It was a beautiful way the last page of that chapter had been turned for Mr.Red.

He is now happy and will eventually, like you and me, be dead.


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