Hope my dear, is a foolish thing
but to wake in its glow everyday!
dragonflies on fragile wings can’t
carry afar dreams they say.
But by my window fly high,
these fickle furtive whims!
In willows restive they sigh
waiting to unfurl and on their lap,
take me to Spring.

To be or not to be…  Shakespeare steered the prow to another sunset. Having just put down Pamuk’s Black Book, incensed with the thoughts so provoking and tantalizing, revelatory and disparaging of our apish selves while simultaneously salving when deducing the Mystery, I know that I need to re-read this text to grasp its entire meaning. There is indeed too much wrapped in its folds that beckons another scrutiny, only a wisp of which I seem to have seen. 

The book set in Istanbul of 1980 takes the reader back in time to writers of old from that strange land over which I seem to have just flown. Stories alive and relived in other stories, reminisced in another story to be reflected and relieved again. Though a shroud of grief  fell as the story reached its impending end, it was not unreal, and in keeping with the melancholic state of all people lost in the air shaft of desultory.

I suggest that you sip, slowly and humbly, roll upon your tongue the wonder he wrote. Thus far, I have just managed to wet my lips with the prolific beauty of his thought captured in a translation, caught in my linguistic  incapacities as I am.Return to it, I must and most definitely shall. It just felt incredibly incomplete to live without leaving a mark of the Black Book.

I could ask u to hold my hand,
To stick around and by me stand.
I could ask for the sun not to set,
on these days of winter rain,
and unholy summer sweat.
I could live with hungry ravens,
and the graffiti on three o seven.
The mind numbing sessions of IOS.
I would do it again, all over again,
and who knows even economics!
Differently though may be…

Time has come, though I dont want to part.
Fate seems like a game of darts.
But who knows what secrets
the crystal ball holds,
may be Delhi, may even be Rome!
But rooted here, shall be my heart.
Though I had sworn this shall be not.

Had made too many promises to begin with.
Too many wishes, too much to play with.
Life has been kind, and sweetly cruel.
What would I be without these duels?
Be kind my friend, don’t judge as I pass.
Who knows if we meet again,
what colour shall be the grass?

I really shouldn’t be writing a blog post right now! I have enough work to keep me busy for the next couple of days at the speed I am going. But then I came across this book I had been wanting to get my hands on for a YEAR!! And Rex had done all to make my day miserable, thus making Twilight an unsurpassed escape. Written by Stephenie Meyres the Book beats all dark vampire dramas I have ever read. And a blog post dedicated to it sounds like a perfect way to get over the impasse till i read the sequel.

But life has other plans for me.

I went to the Kurunamayee Mela, and was reminded of the reason why I had stopped going to Melas. To make matters worse I went on a Saturday, not to forget it was Saraswati Puja that day.. so well I learnt that walking feet are safer feet. I also realized that Cal is not the safe place people think it is. But that was manageable. I was about to take a ride (like Columbus rides, my fair lady rides) when we ran out of time, thus I have not been able to free from six years of abstinence. However I got the opportunity to taste blood!!! Sale at Wills Lifestyle! With my sisters card in my wallet, I was going to conquer the world. And with that piece of art, I had a crush on myself! But not to my surprise, keeping in clear view my experiences for the day, and the lessons life taught, the card didn’t work. Turns out its not meant for swiping. hmm…m.

Also today turned out to be doubly lucky, I found a 100 bucks in my hip pocket. Lets hope the rest of the day keeps up.

I realize that the time has come for complete randomness. I have innumerable people I don’t know in my college, songs in a language I don’t understand that I not only have in my collection but I also sing. I have ‘friends’ on my g-talk list with names I don’t recognize. And Choco-lattes that taste like badly made milo, though that is just unfortunate, am still sad about it.

Very recently I was in deep conversation about how life in law college can change a person. How I came full circle, how the beautiful She, before me, came to no where in particular. How we both are despite our many differences at the same place in space anyway. But through it all I felt very important. She knew my name, I obviously didn’t know her. And it went on. Till I cared to enquire about her doleful life in the first year. An eye brow arched, she tells me its her second. In surprise I say, “Ah! Haven’t seen you around here before.” A sudden bout of amnesia or selective memory clubbed with foot in the mouth disease I ask her, ” I didn’t get your name, what is it?” And hence, we haven’t spoken since.

Apparently we had been on good terms, she would certify that. Not that CRC would care about it. Policies have been relaxed, you see. Regardless.

I have finally cleaned my room, not that it looks it. But I know its clean. Knowing is after all believing.

So much for non-sense. I have work I should do.

These steps they take me strangely close but far
Shadowed thoughts, slip away with the Answer
I know not where these lead, an angel’s lap or
a devil’s end, but to the flute I proceed
Though seeking you, dear friend.
Bent and gnarled is my mind, and my spirit lost
Is the world shattering or my sleep fraught ?
The Pillars are breaking, where hath You gone?
The sky falling, it shall end before long.
Your souls unstirred, safe in moral exile
No glimmer of hope, you say “it shall be fine“
You say dear friends that I sing of sorrow,
But can u tell whence shall come Tomorrow?

She thought she said something silly
And I knew it was from the heart,
Just like her honest opinions
On my spontaneous life’s yarn

So here is from her,
who always knows better
And despite all odds
Will always be my sister

***

I wish life was not this fast,
and globalization had never happened.
Removed from the haunting complexities of life.
We would live in a remote civilization.

Where MBA and money would not be our problems.
and marriage would be easier.
Life would be about living and letting others live.
and terrorists would not have an existence.

If some one can give me this magic potion
so that all the damage can be reversed
life can be returned to infancy
and innocence can have its rebirth

i would do anything to lay my hands on it.
and i would sprinkle that magic around the world
this world needs much saving
but one of us has to start the giving.

- Jas

Choco-puddings, and the calories it cost.
Six days of intoxication, the friend I almost lost.
Of pennies thrown in the fountain of wishes
Wrong direction, damn, the Cupid misses!
Those endless days of my vegan living
Oh well, that was good ol’ punju thinking!
Of prejudices and values unknown,
Fiery tongues and unmeasured tones.
Of times you were not tame, but I won’t blame
It’s all the same now. All just the same.
The unforgivable sin, and
you who treated me like your next of kin.
Relax now, don’t bother with translation
There will always be more temptations,
And hopefully, wrong decisions.

As any other Sunday, the clock ticked seconds and mundane affairs belonging to the week’s end warranted contemplation. The indolent breeze under the indolent sun gave no reason to farewell the lethargy and all responsibilities were shrugged, dismissed with the slight of a hand.

She lay there with her head on the table, the vernacular crossword now damp with perspiration. When was the last time you dusted the table, you wonder while you dream of better dreams. From a distance you can make out the melancholic melody of the third symphony, it plays as if in your head.

She has left, someone else has replaced her. Her deep brown skin makes you look, nay glance, again. The enormity of impending afflictions trouble your sweet little mind. You sleep, your head on the crossword. With indolent dreams, of indolent days, worries are kept at bay.

It plays on, never ending.Your deep brown skin melts away into time, you realize it has not been Sunday in a while.