I wonder how the social network would be if dogs could chat. Would they use more smileys or words? Would they ever go offline? What would their newsfeed look like? Pictures of bones and dirt. Chew toys and torn rugs. Embarrassing photos of their humans. Animated selfies, where you could never see their whole face. Because they would be too excited to take a proper selfie. And certainly no Instagrammable food. Because a dog wouldn't take photos of its food. It would gobble it up, because that's the sensible thing to do. Do you realise Mark, where you should diversify instead of trying to shove Free Basics down people's throats? But I digress.
'It's late', he mused.
'Just a little while longer,' she insisted.
'Isn't he waiting for you?'
'Please...I want to be with you.'
'Sara,' he held her hands, 'I'm not real.'
21 July 2015
I sat listening to the sound of rain on my laptop, while your city flooded. Never knew clouds could carry fire.
A good book is a warm blanket that keeps you company on cold nights. A corner of solitude where you can cry in peace, and laugh with joy. It is a friend that says a lot without speaking at all. A good book is a philosophizing drunkard that dishes out life lessons, page after page. It is a graveyard where all human emotions come to rest. And that takes a part of you when it gets over. Because a good book, is love unrequited.
Even though they had just met, it felt like they had known each other for ages. Friendship was inevitable.
A preference for dark humour.
Wit.
The same sensibility.
Even the same name.
But neither guessed they had also fallen for the same man.
The dead of the night.
Your story makes me wonder
The Universe is mysterious
Sometimes, it reflects life
But most times, a lesson.
Strange are the ways of men
Stranger still, those of women.
What does that make us, I wonder.
Poets, anti-socials, loners
Or the rejects of society?
They say, love is a young man's game
A wrong bet, and you lose heart
Learn the rules, don't be a fool.
You see, love is not for amateurs.
So while you and I scribble
Pages and pages of morbid prose
Pretty lovers with prettier frames
Live fairytales of their own.
Draped in a wave of clouds,
The moon lets out a lazy yawn.
A naughty wind brushes past
Pulling off its cover, oh so lightly
Illuminating half a mile of the sky.
The moon is called off from sleep
A rude awakening
Big eyes, full of reproach
It scolds the wind, pulls the blanket closer.
And the endless sea goes dark.
Dark clouds with stoic silver linings
Like the depth of a bottomless ocean,
The synchrony of a fish's scales,
A unique geometric pattern
Shield the Universe.
A solitary star winks away
In the midst of this celibacy.
A lighthouse full of hope,
It is the sole flame,
Eternally awake
In the sleeping world.
Like my love for you.
I love to sleep.
It keeps the demons away.
As long as I'm safely tucked in
They won't get their way.
I love to sleep.
For dreams give me wings
Even in a nightmare,
I always find my way.
I love to sleep.
It's the best thing to do.
Better than the crying, the anger
The pain of seeing you.
I love to sleep.
It's the only thing keeping me sane
Forever healing,
The wounds you inflict by day.
Every day.
The day I stop loving sleep
Is the day I stop loving life.
Pausing mid-air for a moment, the feeling of love languidly flew away from her, when she jumped to catch it. As she sighed against the closed window sill, it blew farther and farther away, into the snowy recesses of the night. In search of a new destination, a new heart.
It all starts with a conversation. A casual 'What's up' followed by a friendly, 'Where's your lunch?'. With a concerned 'Are you okay?' when things go tough. Before you know it, you are talking about life, love and all things heavy. Yes, conversations are the starters, but the best of them happen when no words are involved. When the actions are so vocal, that words become silent. Such conversations are like codes, to be deciphered only by those for whom they are intended.
Do you have a crazy obsessed stalker who cannot take 'No' for an answer, gets all touchy-feely when you handle them firmly and does not want to let go of you, even at odd hours?
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You do, if you are in Creative.
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They are called 'Servicing'.
Drops of poetry trickle down my brief
My mind goes on a long drive
As the sweet sweet rain drenches my soul.
My friend passed away. We were together for 7 years.
We first met in 2008, at a retail store. It was a bright sunny day. I remember him peeping at me as I smiled, and he blushed right back. That blush stayed with him for the remainder of our time together.
He was my best friend. Knew all my secrets, my dreams. From my daily to-do lists to bank details to the most random of poems, I trusted him with my heart's content.
But for the last 2 years, he was ill. I took him to the best specialists in the city, they even patched him up, but he fell sick again. People began advising me to look for a new friend, but you don't just discard friends, do you?
Still, he held on. He even came with me to the new city. And for the past 11 months, was instrumental in making my life in this alien place a little livable, a little more familiar.
But tragedy struck last week when he drowned. My fault. I should have never taken him close to water. And now, I'll never see him again. Or the data I stored in him.
Adieu, my Nokia 5130 Xpressmusic. No one will ever take your place. Rest in peace, wherever you are.
