She resolved, only her words could free her. Express her angst, express her demons, express her hopes, her unicorns. She had tales to tell. Give the world stories unspoken of, unimaginable places to visit, a place more beautiful than dreams but hints of reality too. To present a scarred hero not a perfect one, to write about the fat lady with golden heart, to give speech to the suppressed and oppressed. She just had to write to be alive

Perhaps you are more than a friend

You read my mind as if its a transparent window you are looking through
You see my wrinkles, my worries, my dark circles like flawless mirror.
You sense my sighs, you cherish my smiles, you show me way, when I am lost
You aren't just a comforting factor, perhaps you are more than a friend.

A visit to Pondicherry

The long awaited item in my wishlist has now passed on to be fulfilled.
2 days of journey to Pondicherry was a mixed experience.
The hot sun attempted to dampen our plans to see places but our spirits made a way to fight the humid air and fiery sun to explore the city.
A beach walk in the evening, a visit to the french colony, five minutes of silence observed in Samadhi of Mother and Sri Aurobindo, awesome food in some of the french styled restaurant, beautifully sculpted art materials and crafts on display, book stores, bakeries, photo studios, jewelry on display, incense sticks and ashram made products for sale in the nearby stores offered to please my senses.
I would remember some of those things for a lifetime, it has become part of me. A search for divinity, peace and meaning beyond our current existence is what I experienced in spiritual hub of India.

Soaking into Pablo Neruda's wisdom of love and below is my favorite one

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” 

Now "we" make sense

The clouds that gathered around us are slowing settling down.
So we see each other, though not too clearly.
But you do understand don't you, that I cry equally when I am happy and when I am sad.
I always have this dreamy eyes that freaks you out;
that there are layers to me, ones which would take years to unveil.
But hang on you are almost there.

We are together, but there are spaces, spaces in the  way we think, most of all what is square to you is round to me.
I wonder why we don't feel have the same perception when we see the exact same object.
I grieve that I am a householder who wanted to be a saint and you grieve the saint still living in me.
Our feet are tied together, we drag it in the same direction, but our eyes catch the fancy of the exact opposite things.
I see beauty in solitude, but you like the crowd, the cacophony.
We are still together, I guess it means something.

After a decade I decided to resume writing, as if ages of dissonance has come to settle down in mind. It gives me the same feeling that you experiance when you visit your ancient house, a house which is an imperative story teller  of your memories. It enchants you with the vivid imagery of your past, your life, something that was once part of you and you feel like reviving it.
Things have changed I am a wife now. Some take changes quite easily, but for me it was gradually sinking in. And life continues to exist, in the same unusual way that it had been.
More dreams, more turbulence, more efforts to keep it going. 

I am borrowing the words of Charles Bukowski now........

For I cant express my own views better than what he expressed here, in this poem

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills. 

How does it feel when you are taking your last breath of freedom.............

This place has become my personal diary, sometimes my only friend to whom I crib about all the things that went wrong in my life. I can speak of my notions about love, speak of hurt that you get from family, speak about pain of an imposed relationship that I cant connect to, speak of how messed up or beautiful life has been. And I guess I listen to my own voice.

I called up all my near and dear ones, as if I am on my death bed trying to make a few confessions, trying to divulge a few secrets, asking for a few apologies against my ego which stopped me each time. I am surprisingly still midst all this chaos lost in my dreams and possibilities and that's the only beautiful thing about this time.

Its this sinking feeling that I cant get over :(  :(  :(

Is it time for another goodbye........

I will hide behind the clouds of anonymity,
Live as if life was a ritual that needs to be lived,
Look at unknown faces and find you in them,
Look at myself and say all this doesn't make sense,
Trust me I know, I always knew.

I envy his wisdom, I envy his completeness, what I am still seeking already belongs to him.

Can I save you in my memory as my favorite bookmark?

Rainbows and Rains

And that which seems like pain,
Is beyond that,
It means learning humility,
It means growing strong.
Though the phase is pretty maddening,
always believe in the purpose of its existence.
And happiness has its purpose too, 
It means there is a rainbow, after the rain.