A shift

Neither a Paradigm shift nor a tectonic shift. Just migrated to wordpress.com. Please Kindly click on the  LINK to read further.

Thanks for staying with the blog for all these years. Your love for the blog is highly appreciated


Yeah Alright, I am an Adult

              I remind myself right from the moment I wake up to the minute I doze off, that being an adult is all about dressing up ones' disappointments. The grace, the poise; to constantly remember and strike a larger pose, the world is watching; yet I fail to realise, the larger disappointment is to have no audience. 

              Life goes in a maze of mundane everydayness, that sometimes I just wish, would slow down. Of late, I do get this vibe, say a feeling, a hunch, call it an instinct that no matter what you do, at the end of the day, you long, just pine to be acknowledged and appreciated. Not to mention that I do know that I over-do some stuff. I just need distance, I need perspective, I need clear thinking, At times a cold and cool, aloof distance hurts. It does.

               Alright. I am an adult, I have learned to care. To not care is to be uncouth. Just a wee bit tired to look at life as an ongoing orgasms of whys! If I had known its going to be this weary all the time, I would have chosen a bit more of innocence than maturity, Kid. 

               I just need a little more time to buckle up. I am not gonna give up, I may scream, I may be a little worn out, and dazed, but I am not going to miss this beautiful opportunity that Life gave me, yet another time on the onset of my thirties to be in someone's life, watch them evolve into that beautiful person, all right before my eyes. I need little more time. Just hold onto a bit tight. It may be a turbulent time now and a bumpy ride. but the future, that is little ahead of you is just unspoiled and yours. Take time, listen out, think out. And remember all along, I promise to be around Kid. I seal my word and send up a thought in Prayer. Take care.



The meandering memory of love

Where could i possibly begin?

At an ending. May be an impending ending. That kept us Waiting. 

i couldn't possibly start counting the memories we are both bestowed with, And in great vain, i attempt to remember the mortal remains of memories of togetherness.

For Memory is a burden.

How do i remember thee? Let me uncount the ways
i remember thee to the depth and breadth and height
To the beginning of the warmth in your touch

i remember thee to the end of every next-day
Most quietly waiting by my g-talk for a message to pop up
Into the laziness of your day-ending as my day dawns to the sound of your voice

i shall wait, my time to serve with memories intact
To see you somewhere in all my griefs and faith.
i shall but remember thee Always

For i  know no greater love than, of remembrance
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."

A year that just slipped by, a year of grief; certainly,`The Year of Magical Thinking' when a thousand things dawned onto the quiet mind basking in laziness. An urgent need to seize the slyly time that refuses to wait for any tides. A few memories, that needs exorcizing, if not will continue to haunt the remains of time. A happy memory of learning, loving and living together for a short worthwhile. As the year ends, a few deaths that scarred me remains untangled, in the web of memory. An haphazard need to bid adieu to a thousand things as the year nears its end.

At times, Waking up is a like a dream. A certain kind of feeling it evokes as one wakes up from/to a dream. She did remember this; a distant memory, a near-fading past- his feel of lips on her navel. She could only chuckle at the memory, his less than short of obsession with navels.

Next only to books, those unread, but buying books at every other day, the untidy linings of the books along the walls of every shelf. For only the beauty of Japanese language can find a word for book hoarding - Tsundoku.

To end the year with something that i recently read/lived through. Kafka on the shore is one of the strangest books i've read. A journey that stretches itself onto the realms of magic as the reader approaches it. The story is narrated from different perspectives of  Kafka Tamura, a fifteen-year-old boy who runs away from home to escape an oedipal prophecy and thereby making it true and then the story of Nakata, an old man who gained the ability to talk to cats after an incident in his childhood.

This entire book reads like a fine collage of  intense vignettes of unrelated dreamy scenes and poignant conversations. A meandering dreamlike tone drives the entire reading experience. A surrealistic "Kafka-esque" thread runs all along the narrative tying the loose ends, before the book ends. At times, it takes a toll on the reader to make connections every now and then, that said, it ain't an easy read.

One can sense an intentional ambiguity in the very narrative and the plot.

May be the book speaks to me in a way, as to the threshold, that had been pushed onto me.

"Listen, Kafka. What you're experiencing now is the motif of many Greek tragedies. Man doesn't choose fate. Fate chooses man. That's the basic worldview of Greek drama."

As often, i feel the lure of the unknown quite regularly. May be like everything else, "Kadhalum Kadandhu Pogum"