Again!

If we had babies they would look like you
It’d be so beautiful if that came true
You don’t even know how very special you are

And if our love was a story book
We would meet on the very first page
The last chapter would be about
How I’m thankful for the life we’ve made

How silly are we to have fallen like this? I'm singing in the shower and you're fumbling with words. This is the start of something big, I assure you:) People will laugh and mouths will bicker. Eyebrows will be raised and heads will turn. Still, sugar...I'll keep loving you like I've done. Through good days and bad, through days I wanted you dead till days I'll die for you; I'll always love you.

Thanks for being around, darling.











P.S: Aku, Meenal, Mali and Uzma...refrain from teasing me, please? Love y'all :)

So I wrote this in Mumbai...

Since the last time I visited Mumbai, nothing much has changed. Strangely though, nothing quite looks the same to me. There are good things and there are bad things. Things that I remember Mumbai with, things that remind me of this place. It is one and the same thing, but then it's not. My first day has been more of a journey than anything else. From scraping the worm-bodied passages that now adorn the airport to passing by swarms of cleaners and airport security. Faces in India have a permanent smile on their faces, a smile that is synonomous to the warm, welcoming attitude that most Indians are born with. Correction, ALL Indians. Yet, there is a faint, somewhat depressing look in their eyes that stare right back at you and pierce you with so much pain which you would've never imagined.

The first thing that hits you as soon as you step out of the submarine-like aeroterminal is a warm, balmy gust of wind that first seems to surround you from all sides and if you happen to wait long enough, it almost feels like it is growing on you like a slimy layer of non-removable cling wrap. this, accompanied by the painful, yet enterprising screeches of cabbies and hotel bookers and packs of tourist guides; makes the welcome into India rather memorable.

Driving back home in a chauffeur driven 4X4 is not a privilege that many enjoy. It is something that I don't appreciate as much since I come from a rather affluent family, but at the same time there's this feeling of superiority that is both holy and horrible. Horrible is not the rigt word but strangely, it fits. I just don;t know which bit of it is holy and which is horrible. driving through the crammed alleys and the crowded roads, I see every possible mode of transport making its way to the end like some eternal race for survival. Men, women, children and cars; on the road they all look the same. the stooped folk, with drab clothes lying around the corners and under partly constructed sites are what give the mise-en-scene of Mumbai the flair that it claims. As we turn to the lane that leads towards my house, I see familiar faces, indifferent and oblivious to the arrival of someone that they raised, someone they played with, someone they loved or hated, in short; someone they once knew. The faces have not changed a bit, yet there is something about them that brings them about as such strangers, possibly from another planet. this shield that every person here builds around them is what keeps them going, it is something that gives them a reason to occassionally socialise. For, ignorance is bliss; but denial is trouble.

The next few hours at home are spent in unpacking, absorbing the house in, its still atmosphere, a lot like an incubator. The sights and smells are familiar, and it's what I call home. But home, is it really my comfort zone? an hour into this and Im still trying to figure out if it was a good decision or bad. I miss my people back home, some more than the others. I cringe at the thought of not being able to see someone for a whole month, conjuring a plethora of thoughts in my mind.

I walk down to a friend's place, finding solace in the few friends that I've managed to contact. It's funny how wanting to have to meet or talk to someone becomes so important that your life almost depends on it. Yes, I've heard the "man is a social animal" saying many times to ever have forgotten it. However, I think I find it unavoidable because the only cure to loneliness for me is love and at the same time, the reason why I am lonely is also love. Thus, mingling with other folk temporarily fill that void and make it easier for me to try and focus on things that I originally intended to do. My time with them friends is good and it is then time to return home. Yes, back to the still air and gaping at the immaculate relationship between the grandparent and the television set. Sometimes I wonder who is helping what. Is it the grandmother who's watching TV and increasing TRPs or is the TV that's playing on a loop on and on to keep her mind occupied.

It's strange I've come to a house where people wind up at the dot of 10. The insomniac that I am, is finding it very difficult to close my eyes even though the body is sore from all the traveling and internal stress. I read for a while, make small talk with the cousin, indulge in some housework and finally see everyone off to bed. Luckily, I have a balcony just where I'm supposed to be sleeping. That balcony to me is much more than just an opening to the external environment. What lies outside is the back alley of my street, trees lined up on either side, a church bell and some more trees. But what I see is far more complex and interesting. I see the dimly lit alleys, but only, they look like streams of liquid gold. I see trees, but somehow they resemble fairies, wizards and all things mysitcal. I see shapes that only exist in my mind, things that havent been named yet but things that have a clear definition in my head. I see the church bell and at once, I think of several thousand bats flying out from it in generous sweeps and coming righ towards me. These are strange thoughts, strange ideas and stranger comparisons. But for me, somehow all of it seems so vivid it's almost impossible to decide which is real.

This page of black and white has turned to a morgueish shade of grey, a sign that my eyes have finally married my body and that they both now are crying for some rest. Crying here is the wrong word here, because I never cry for what I want but for the things that I've lost. Im not sure I want them back but I still cry. I cry till I convince myself it's never coming back. Instead of crying over things I want, I channel that energy to doing things to pursue that desire. If this is sounding like greek, then it really is time for me to hit the sack.

I'm turning in now. Yes, with my rivers of gold and bats, alright =D

This did it.

I've been neglecting the blogosphere for some time now, lazy much?
Today, something happened that literally forced me to get my hands off facebook and on to blogspot < update time! >
One of the craziest fogs that the UAE has ever seen, and one of the deadliest pile-ups in the history of UAE's polished and BMW/Merc smothered roads. The fog's to blame, but not completely. It is, after all, a natural phenomenon! You don't blame good ol' poop when you miss an episode of The Family Guy! [whoever does, has serious issues with nature and its workings].
Coming back to the deeper poop, so this fog caused its share of havoc on the roads. But what really got to me was the fact that these smog-struck people were rallying at 150kmph despite the forelying massacre! Car after car, bus after bus, all piled up like a stack of pringles, only crushed to its sorry last bit. And Hazard lights...Did they not teach you in driving school,those blinkers remain shut during a fog! You're not helping anyone by putting it on. In fact, you're scaring them! [Remeber, they're relying on YOU to tell them what the scene's like up ahead, you can't see jack in a fog like THAT!]
Vehicles ablaze, ambulance-marathon in progress, the scene is anything but pleasing. It's a sign, folks... DO not take em roads for granted. Anything can happen. Least you could do is slow down and mind your own goddamn business!

I spent 7 hours in the bus today, and that's not cool, thankyou.

http://www.gulfnews.com/nation/Traffic_and_Transport/10196597.html

Of toes and everything.

Today was Valentine'e day *fakes squeal* .

Started off pretty lame...crippled to be precise. Red all around,flowers that rot, teddy bears, and well, more roses. Girls at their shiniest best, guys at their coolest, "love" as they say was all around.

Now, now. I'm not saying I'm anti Valentine's Day. I'd like to spend some time with my companion too. But then, any damn day will do, no? Moving on.

So the compantion still comes, we do the usual dinner, walk, gift-giving business...We depart with a sweet ending...They say, all's well that ends well :)

Happy love day you all.













P.S: GROW UP!

Another one, and no I'm NOT love-struck!

I was randomly blog-hopping a day before my Econ paper, and I happened to notice this one post on what love means. So this guy put it across really well, left me more than impressed, if I may add.
Now, my fingers can't really resist the urge to leave a comment everytime I read something that's..erm..worth reading! So i put on my typing gear (in this case, an invisible cape and a thinking hat without batteries) and started to write my line-or-two on what I think love is.
But wait! Im in love too, atleast that's what my previous posts say, so a line-or-two won't suffice. I went on to write a decent essayish quantity and in the end thought to myself(without the aid of the hat, mind you) Why not put it up here !

So here, read on...

Love is what youe experience when you read all of this and more, and immediately close your eyes to think of the only person you wouldn't mind snoring in front of, the only person who's seen you through every small happening, the only person who's scent you can detect from a mile but never seem to find it anywhere else.

Love is this weird feeling in your toes,the tingling sensation and how everything in the world seems distant once they're in the bubblegummish mouth of your partner (if you curl them while you read this, you're in love mate)

Love is laughing at the same silly jokes, then looking at each other and saying I love You. Love is when you listen to songs on the radio and picture yourself in it, listen carefully and then conclude that it isn't your song, that your song would have sounds and instances exclusive to your relationship.

Love is what happens to you when you're having exams, and all you think about is passing them with a good GPA, and then waiting to tell your companion how well you did and how much you love him (contrary to the common misconception that people often confuse with love, when you can't study at all, and all that's on your mind is the man/woman you so totally are in "love" with, trust me, your companion in actuality would neevr let you do this to yourself!)

Ah well, love is not a disease, just in case you related it to a sickness of some sort. Love is ideally, a state of mind, a conscious effort to keep alive a feeling that in turn, keeps you alive :)

And now, for the original post that got me into this love-debate...(credits to Hari, http://whencupidstrikes.blogspot.com/ )
When do you know you are in love? It is not when you begin to lose sleep. It is when you begin to sleep with more peace. It is not when you begin to see her face in every other face you see, that would make her so un-special (wonder who ever thought of that weird expression, a friend thought of his muse in his professor’s face!) It is when her face is only a perfumed mist around you, keeping you in a trance for long, never-ending periods.

May be I contradict myself. It is not really when you are in a trance and feel lost, that you know you are in love. It is when you are the most clear-headed and focused that you know you are in love. It is when all her features become the centre of your attention.

The way her red lips part when she needs to smile, the way they pout when she is sorry, the way the blood drains out of it when her teeth bite gently into the suppleness.

The tiny cherry at the tip of her nose. The loving gaze, the swiftness of her eyes to catch every minute detail. The rise of her cheeks at every smile, the bed of skin at her chin. The delicate turn of her ear, the wisps of hair making the sideburns. The small of her neck that shakes as she talks, the bones by them that rise as she breathes. Her neck that loves being pampered by a tongue. The shiny hair that fall on her nape, tickling her back. The gentle rise and fall of her soft but firm breasts, the peace inside the cleavage and the confidence of her perky nipples.

The tremors of the stomach, the tremble by the sides, the naughtiness of her belly-button and the trail of soft fur. The goosebumps that announce arousal.

The divine aroma, wrapped in soft spools. The tough door and the smooth walls. The warmth inside. The delicious wetness. The heavenly taste.

The kissable thighs. The strong knees, intricate toes and baby toe-nails. The adorable calves, the tender pit of the knees, the rise of her cheeks, the rosebud between them. The small of her back. The curling vertebrae. The arch of her shoulders, the tone of her biceps, the affectionate curl at the elbow, the grace of the forearm and the immaculate fingers, the moon-less nails.

The buoyancy of her gait. Her mild chiding. Her gentle breath. Her thoughtfulness. Her honest emotions. The sheer smartness. Her kind words, her true concern. All of her.

It is when you understand that every feature of her is a work of art, an intricate design in itself; that you know that you are not only in awe of her physical beauty, but are also in love with her individual existence.

Newbie =]

So someone's started blogging too...Yay!


I heart you silly boy ^^


kisses and more :)