I finished reading Lust for Life by Irving Stone earlier today yesterday and wonderful though the story is, it left me heartbroken. Of course, if the story is that of an artist, and a pained artist like Van Gogh, there is bound to be a profound sadness that settles within. If you haven't already read it,… Continue reading Lust For Life and The Urgent Need For It
It's been a weird past week for me, with all the festivity in the air, a LOT of melancholy, tad bit anxiety and a minor pinch of meaninglessness creeping into the mind in the dead of the night. Talking about it was nigh impossible for two reasons - I don't talk to all that many… Continue reading Reflecting on Life and Other Interestingness from Confessions of a Storyteller
It isn't easy to love what you do. Or do what you love. I am fortunate in that sense. I got both. If you know me, you'd know already what I mean. If you don't, well, it's my love for words and stories and the immense power they hold in connecting you with yourself and… Continue reading To Love What You Do and Other Things That Seem Important Today
Dear Universe, Although the music drums in my ears, there is silence. Within. Peace I think it’s called by another name. I have everything I need right here. The breath in my lungs. A chilled coffee on the table. This mac, to work, to play with. A paperback, just in case the battery on the… Continue reading Dear Universe
... and what it means to be a pet mommy He was exactly 2 months old for an exact 32 years of mine. I don't know what possessed me on my birthday to walk into an adoption camp and play with the four little pups who were super excited to be outside of their… Continue reading On Adopting a Dog
So last week I said I'll talk about a couple of things (read about it here). I did write some but didn't meet my goal. I'll try to get back on track again this week. For this post, I decided to jot down a random list of questions that have been on my mind lately.… Continue reading Random Questions. Answer Maybe?
...and how rare it is to get, but mostly give unconditional love "Such frivolity in matters of the heart When it is, in all its seriousness, a madness that consumes." Somewhere, on some dimly-lit street corner, Kafka and I are talking about love, relationships and the definition it has taken on. How often… Continue reading On Love
...and how it doesn’t need a muse to get started Have you ever have to contend with a writer's block? I suppose all artists have had to deal with this issue at some point. Of wanting to create but not being able to. How often has it come down to, I don't know what… Continue reading On Inspiration
Writing has always been a catharsis for me. Trouble is, I'm not consistent about it. A friend of mine suggested this trick - write at least 1,000 words a day. No matter what. And that's exactly what I'm going to do from today onwards. I'm going to aim to write 1,000 words daily on this… Continue reading On Writing (and the help I could use)
Maybe the rest of the world needs it, waits for it, even craves it. But I for some weird reason can't do a day like Sunday. There is too much inactivity and activity, both. Homes begin reeking of laziness and boredom. Streets and malls of hyper-energy. I can't stay at home, in that zone of… Continue reading To Be a Sunday
Inspiration always struck me at the oddest of hours. Like at 2:14 in the morning. What I wouldn't give to sit on the shore, watch the waves crash against the black rocks, hear the squeaks of rats run helter-skelter. To feel the chill of a half-moon not yet willing to set, the warmth of a… Continue reading Letting Inspiration Get Away
The way you look at it Your eyes measuring the froth and foam Wondering if this cuppa is going to taste just how you imagine it My eyes take in the movement of your fingers As they tear at that sachet of sugar Dropping it in, grain by grain, before swirling it in gentle circles That… Continue reading Lovers
The physical realm has no sympathy for the mental. There are cramps — painful reminders of my sex. There is a migraine — painful reminder of the fluctuating hormones. There is a swollen ankle — painful reminder of having worn the wrong shoes and walked for far too long in them. The mental though is… Continue reading Want. Must.
I miss writing. It is my form of meditation and I am apologetic about not doing it often enough. It’s never an issue with time. Nor a writer’s block. I have enough words in me, enough stories, to rage, to ravish, to remember, for an entire lifetime. And then some. Trouble is, I’m just unfaithful.… Continue reading An Apology Of Sorts
There was a thought, a random one. I kept it in a safe place. The place was raided, my thoughts paraded, and I felt naked. Question is, what do I do with the rest of my thoughts now?
Ek umar nikal gayi Phir bhi tu mujhe mila nahi A heavy heart I carry. One of unfulfilled dreams, unrequited love. I continue to carry on, still believing that someday I'll find you. Touch your skin and know it's you. But for now loneliness is starting to settle deep inside my bones. Run through my… Continue reading One Half of a Whole
I don't know what makes me, me. Is it this prison of a mind that often holds me captive in its thoughts? Or this heart that stabs me with pain with each beat? Is it this body that aches because maybe my bones are too soft? Or is it this skin that ages, reminding me… Continue reading What Makes Me, Me?
All the men are gone. Or shall I say, lost? This once sprawling city is nothing but ruins now, except not literally. The cost of war is often more easily seen in crumbling buildings, not in the haunted eyes of the women they leave behind. To whom do the cries of eighty-year-old mothers or eight-year-old… Continue reading No Man’s Land
We couldn't live together, anyway, any day We had to rage against those who differed from us in skin, sleeve and stories We would rage against them, slaughter them, burn them Our identities needed protecting Our creed needed protecting Our established rules needed protecting We didn't want those with us, who could not… Continue reading Not Human