Lovers on the grass

They lie on the grass, carefree. Carefree in a very worldly way. She has her bunch of papers open in front of her, he has his thick fat book. Their own little study nook. A corner of the University quad. A stolen hour in between rushing for class. A skipped lunch. In exchange for silence. Just an easy hour of pouring through work, fingers entwined sometimes, feet nudging each others' sometimes. A shared sip of water and a shared glance.

Lovers, they lie on the grass. Each immersed in their own love story. 

Doubts and tears

She woke up with a start. Last night came rushing back. It wasn't like her.. these weird sleep cycles. This erratic, unexplainable wave of affections she slept with and woke up with. It wasn't like her anymore.

She couldn't believe she was back there. Where she ended the night in doubts and woke up to tears. She couldn't believe that she had left the smiles that her life had brought with her behind.

Black Heart

Why do you have a black heart my love
What deed so tainted, words so impure
what joy rebuffed, what smile upturned

you always believed
that smiles are an anomaly
that the world is a bitch
that people are selfish

you always accepted that
that was your truth
imbeded in your psyche
fashioning all your moves

you revelled in the pain
Basked in darkness
enjoyed the screw drilling in
relentlessly, ruthlessly

what little action was it
that turned out to kill it all for you
why do you have a black heart my love
and how am i supposed to love it

Life on a soundtrack

If I had the option to rewind my life to certain times and places and replay it with a soundtrack, the first thing I would rewind to would be lying on sidewalk of a national highway.. just lying on the sidewalk.. hand in your hand.. and looking up at the stars, while the world passed us by.

And obviously, the track that would play to that would be

Snow Patrols - Chasing Cars.. If I just lay here, If I just lay here, would you lie here with me? And just forget the world.

We are all victims of life's speed

Some of us sit around trying to define the depth of a relationship, some flirt with definitions and some are waiting. Waiting for the relationship as you know it to start.

We each course at a different speed through these confusing relationships, but what speed is it that we want? Why are we always dissatisfied at the pace we are at? The fast want to go slower, the slow, faster. The one's at the red light just want the damn speed to pick up and the traffic to start.

I feel like I am on slow mode right now. Waiting for the full throttle to burst. For the rush of speed to take my life by surprise. I am waiting for my life to start. I am done with laying the foundation for my life ahead, hell maybe I am not done with it, but i am done doing it, you know.

I just want life to start. I am tired of waiting for things to fall in place.. just so I know where my place is in this Universe. I know a few basic facts, and I am ready to take on the world on them. No more brick laying for me. Bring on the cars, and let's crank up the gears.

It's irritating when you realize that you have no control over your life right? very irritating. But what can we do, we are all victim's. Of the race that Life has set up. Some like it fast, they get it fast, some don't, so they switch to double lane driving. Now is now right?

End of the era of selfishness

In so many ways you show me what I mean

In so many ways, you show me my place.

It just makes it easier for me..

Easier to understand that you are not the man for me.

You are so not worth it. 

When pants hang low, pull

What do you do when you see a guy with his trousers hitched so low on his non-existent hips, that one tug would have them on the floor? You tug. That's what you do. Or you do what I did. Tug mentally, smile impishly. And find the trousers on the floor. :)

Last weekend found me with two friends walking down this scenic beach-front road in Mumbai. One just-turned-20 guy was at a corner shop buying what guys buy from corner shops normally. And his pants were riding low, way low on his skinny body. Low enough to display a thick line of muddy blue underwear on brown skin. Yes, that low.

Low enough to make me want to pull it down just so I could tell him,

" There. Mission accomplished." 

 And while I looked at him straight in the face and contemplated the mental tug, the pants slid off his hips. Slid. Right. Off. His. Hips.

The boy caught them mid-slide, almost near his knees and looked accusingly at me. I was a safe 50 yards away from him. My friend and I were laughing quite unabashedly at him and he then had the good sense to look sheepish.

We continued walking, not letting the laughter break our stride, but I couldn't resist a 'pallat moment'. I looked back, and his pants were again riding dangerously low.

Sigh. This generation I tell you!!!