Wednesday, December 17, 2008

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Do not judge. Do not, i say. And if you do (which i know you will) do not tell me, even if it kills you.

Monday, December 01, 2008

The random doodler can be a misleading name sometimes. These were made in Pune and Goa respectively. The one below is Spider Jerusalem. What a man. Although in this particular sketch, his fingers look like an alien's I'm told.
The one above is something I'm very fond of, even though it was very hastily done, sitting at NCC over an umpteenth cup of coffee.
Today insists on being very strange. And i never thought i would post on this blog again. But then i never thought I'd get parts of my body pierced, study in a media school or have no work to do on a monday afternoon. I never thought Leopold's would have its shutters down either.

Monday, February 04, 2008


The last time we spoke, I forgot to say "bye". I think the doorbell rang or something, can't quite remember now. When Maya runs about the house looking for you, her silver anklets make the most delicate kind of music. Like paper thin bangles, just two of them, at a flirty young conversation. Or pale Christmas tree ornaments after the fire has died out. I only believed in fairies bacause they wear gauzy silver wings. Don't tell me they are not real, I know, ofcourse. But they are beautiful anyhow, aren't they?

Are you afraid to return because you think I'll ask you to stay? But I always knew that nothing could hold you. I never even tried. Your mind is a mass of confused unbridled silver wires. And you electrify everyone on the way as you go along. With your mad angry stories and your lost grey eyes. When I paint in a single colour, it makes me feel guilty. Like I'm insulting your memory. But i cannot paint in white. That's more your thing, isnt it? "I like you because you're a red cloud" you had said.
You're the sky. Blue, purple, grey, white. Always stormy, always quiet. And always free. I think the doorbell rang. What do you paint these days? Red roses white?

Thursday, January 24, 2008

I used to wonder sometimes exactly what makes her tick. What made her insanely brilliant mind cross over to the other side? Those strange expressionless eyes that held years and years of bottled up secrets? She tells no stories. Yet you always listen, dont you? You cannot help it. I never could.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

I had forgotten how easy it is to survive. Whats with all the crying and sobbing? Lock yourself outside.
You'll live.