Frost

Smoke on a layer of ice
a quarter of a year, lived a lie
a dewy window pane
outside a deserted lane
jittering teeth, a frozen tear
numb limbs, a heart in fear
no sensation at palm ends
is this where the journey begins or life ends?
nerves craving for a feeling
skin thirsty for a healing
lips dried up and pale
gaping at their tale
tired of asking questions
worn out of their explanations
hands folded, crossed legs
the chill now reaches the brain
the soul doesnt bleed again
pale blue eyes have forgotten to complain
if pain can replace inadequecy,
then let pain show thy some mercy
if a burn can replace this emptyness
then let her light her furnace
and fill up this cold room with her fire
let to the sun, the frost aspire.

Dare to dream and post it?

Today I woke up with a restless mind that decided to do something really cool with her time which is mostly spent idle (especially in the office.) Many people write dream journals where they keep posting their dreams on a regular basis. I know that nobody really cares what dreams they had after about 11 minutes of waking up. We soon forget the besieging thought, the soul searching question and the innerving imagery in the hustle and bustle of our daily life spent running like the family members of Eshaan Awasthi in the song "hai duniya ka naara... jamey raho”. So I decided to do something the dyslexic kid would enjoy doing.
I have decided to articulate my dreams in a blog which I have proudly christened the-dreaming-room. It may sound tacky but I am going to come up with all these marketing gimmicks to make it look gothic and intriguing when it appears in search results! Yes the dark side of the dark side exposed.
I am quite sure that my dreams have got the genuine potential to give Goosebumps to anyone, especially myself. But mostly they just end up giving people a lot to crack jokes about.
Be it horses or be it Lucifer, my friends would tell you how much my dreams have contributed to the laughter and theatre of many.
So wish me luck on my first marketing assignment of creating a scary/weird/psychotic/arKane dream blog called the-dreaming-room. Humor on this subject will not be appreciated.

PS:
The dreaming room screening process: each and every dream will have to go through a screening process. That doesn’t mean they have to be screened on a 70 mm screen. The dreams will be scrutinized on their content and nature. Reader discretion is advised.

bloggin' on a railway platform...

Sitting on the edge of a crowded seat, at the Surat railway station, platform no. 1, I realize that I have 30 minutes to kill till the train comes and rescues me from the boringness and gujju-ness of this bomb-proof city. Habituated to the hustle and bustle of Bombay life, I got ready an hour early and now I lie here like a loser, bloggin' on a railway platform.
I started writing with some other subject in mind but now I feel like writing about something else. Maybe, about the goodbye speech I never made while bidding farewell to friends/colleagues at work here.
A change is always exciting. So when my bosses told me to go to Surat, I was; well 'excited'. They say you shouldn’t make friends at work, shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, shouldn’t trust your colleagues etc etc. but I broke all those rules, although cautiously and I am still alive! I made friends in people of the kind I had discarded all my life. But still learnt immensely from them!

I was here for a month. If I was here for too long, I would have got attached to this place and the idiosyncrasies of this race! However, I leave today with a smile after raising a glass with those 3 friends in the same Dil Chahata Hai fashion that I always fantasized.

Now I am headed home. Right when I thought I was 22 and liberated, they put me back in the comfort of my own home with everything served on a platter, a car, a driver, world space radio, DVD, laptop, TV, fridge etc among other things that I was doing without in Surat. Important among those other things are mom, dad, sis and granny.
The sun is shining brighter now and the engine's whistling louder. I can see my train at the distant track calling me home...!