Friday, October 3, 2014

Love notes on my skin: a collage of love and despair


She is erotic poetry
In a canvas of white sheets
Ink drying in the morning sun


Rain on arid land
Run your hand over my scars
Fill the cracks with gold


They were parallel lines
Never intersecting
Only helping pick up the other's shattered remains


The breeze brings with it
The sound of my lover's flute
From the riverbank

Sunday, August 31, 2014

The rose

The rose bloomed in the light of the waxing moon

Petals the colour of babies' lips

In the morning, she gazed at it with delight

Snipped it off at the stem

Stripped off leaves and thorns

Put it in a delicate glass vase, hand-blown in Venice

And let it wilt in a corner of the bedroom

Sunday, May 18, 2014

A haiku composed while sick, about being sick

Wan face, bloodshot eyes

Words do not come to the lips

Just feverish sighs

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Self-improvement (yeah, right...)

Internet detoxing working relatively-smoothly.

Have increased percentage of fruits+vegetables consumed on a daily basis.

Internal alarm clock has been set to 5:15 in the mornings. Still needs some fine-tuning, nothing a few more nights of disciplined sleep can't correct.

Three litres of water a day.

Do not dress like a hobo anymore (in public.)

Do not feel the urge to consume television shows after coming home from college.

Exercise levels still not satisfactory; more than thirty-five side-situps still make knees feel a bit wobbly afterwards.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Why I'm not a movie-person

I'm not much of a movie person. I'm mainly a book-person who often dabbles in being an internet-person.

Why, you ask?

Look below.

(Information and pictures obtained from this wikipedia page)   

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Why do I write?

I write a lot.

But why do I do it?

I write because sometimes reading isn’t enough. For sometimes I read something that is so forceful, so beautiful in its intensity, that it makes my head spin. And I have such a strong reaction to it—irrespective of whether it’s positive or negative—that I feel like I cannot sleep at night unless I’ve put down in physical words my feelings about it.

I write to keep my hands and brain occupied, for I do not know what to do with them. I’m restless by nature and my mind scorns both inactivity and messiness. I write because it helps me categorize my thoughts into different notebooks and to colour-code them by importance. Red before yellow. Green before red. Blue before green.

I write to understand myself better.

I write to stave off the loneliness I feel at times.

I write because nothing else calms me down.

I write to not slip into instability once again; because every word I write anchors me down to reality.

I write because I don’t trust my vocal chords to convey my emotions. I’m not good at talking—never was and probably never will be. I fumble through long sentences, I stammer, I stutter.

I write because I’ve realized that my voice has cracked with disuse. My tongue cannot roll out the words that my brain commands it to tell. I write because I’ve lost the ability to speak.

I write because putting pen on paper and spilling out my feelings offers me a certain form of catharsis I’ve become addicted to.

I write because this is what I’ve been doing for a long time. I write because I have forgotten what it is to not write.

Monday, March 31, 2014

New yoga equipment

Was at an Art of Living Advance course for more than half of the past week. This is my third advance course and the processes were a bit easier to handle now that I've got the flow of things. The back also didn't act up much after the long meditation sessions and I swear the pain's  decreasing with every course I do. A couple more and hopefully it'll be gone for good. The food was excellent and as for accommodation, our hostess (us residential participants were assigned places at volunteers' houses) was absolutely lovely. All in all, a half-week well-spent.

Speaking of Art of Living courses, I finally went ahead and bought a yoga chair to help combat the troubles caused by long hours of little to no movement on hard surfaces without external back supports. It's a lovely shade of blue and very comfortable to recline in. Dad thinks it's a frivolous buy-- I partly agree, for I could have very well used a normal chair like the countless people who who don't own yoga chairs-- but then again, I'm a person who once bought the same skirt in three different colours because I couldn't chose between them, so really, please don't expect me to make rational and economic shopping-based decisions.

But then again, I'll say that I've been pretty rational in this department (looks like the frivolity-detoxing is going well); I didn't set out to buy yoga-based products the moment I started doing yoga. I did my first AOL course in September 2011 and went for months without even a yoga mat. I made very sure of the fact that I was getting into this for good before committing to any product. Before grabbing the chair I thought about it pretty hard: I'll be doing more advance courses in the near future, courses which require sitting in the same position for extended periods of time, a task for which some comfort would be very welcome.

So, hello there, new yoga apparatus. I hope we'll get along splendidly.

Next on my list are a proper pair of track pants and a pair of sneakers, but only after I implement a daily running routine in my schedule.