Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Thursday, November 26, 2009
A space left vacant because it got too full.
A strange numbness overpowers all else. And an emptiness descends into me, onto me, over me, above me. It is me . Simultaneously all soul is sucked away. Bit by bit. All my feelings evaporate. Then emotions are alien.
That hug is no longer warm. It is simply the movement of the arms grasping me in a circle. My body against yours. Wood against wood. Stone against stone. Marble against marble.
That woman in a torn saree, a naked baby in arm and an open wound is just someone else. Breathes and eats. Bathes and washes. Cooks and sews. Starves and dies.

Hopelessness, helplessness and guilt survive in a vaccum. Like the hollow of a coconut. They pull down at me. Tuggin me down. I ache with their weight.
Heavy fog replaces thoughts. The head weighs down with the intensity of the blankness and experiences only that. Nothing penetrates either way.

Eyes shut not to a feeling of lightness that leads to sleep but only to open again in a few seconds. For when the lids come down it is haunted within
That hug is no longer warm. It is simply the movement of the arms grasping me in a circle. My body against yours. Wood against wood. Stone against stone. Marble against marble.
That woman in a torn saree, a naked baby in arm and an open wound is just someone else. Breathes and eats. Bathes and washes. Cooks and sews. Starves and dies.
Hopelessness, helplessness and guilt survive in a vaccum. Like the hollow of a coconut. They pull down at me. Tuggin me down. I ache with their weight.
Heavy fog replaces thoughts. The head weighs down with the intensity of the blankness and experiences only that. Nothing penetrates either way.
Eyes shut not to a feeling of lightness that leads to sleep but only to open again in a few seconds. For when the lids come down it is haunted within
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Humayun ka Makhbara
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Nayi aankhein, purani duniya
The result of a heady excitement of a new camera, a course in photojournalism and an early morning shower.
The little drops from above patted the grass green, which gleamed in celebration,blade by blade.I watched from under the ledge, aware that i could be cleansed of my sins.But would it pollute the rains?However practicality stepped in.What remains is a corrupt moment and me.
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