Friday, September 12, 2008

This post is for you...


It’s for that one rainy evening, when we sat on the second floor of McDonald’s at Andheri, trying to figure out our lives…
This post is ‘just for the time being’
This post is for: ‘What would you do for love?’
It’s to that one early morning, when we sat on a beach, half stoned, watching waves crash at our feet, speaking in silence
To the first time, you came to my place, when I skipped office, because I was down with a fever
To the times, when we fought and did not speak for days
And the times, when we made up after the fights
This post is a dedication to all the rickshaw rides in the sleepless city
To all the movies at Fame Adlabs
To all the Home deliveries from Alpha.
To all the alu-fry, daal, and egg-curry and magi, cooked in the 1503 kitchen
This post is a toast to the good times; we have had in Toto’s
And the better times we had in Shack
To our drunken feats in Rio’s
And Midnight buffets in Land’s End
This post is a dedication to the mundane, the everyday and ordinary things in life
and also about finding happiness in those everyday things
This post is about my life, in a lonely city… which was not so lonely after all…
The memories reside in the folds of the pages of old books, in the sudden scent of a known perfume, in a pair of blue suede shoes, a song in my iPod…
This post is an ode to all those memories, silent and unspoken
This post is for you….

Friday, September 5, 2008

Life in Technicolor

It is flowing through my veins and rushing to my head, filling me up, draining me out, and filling me up again. My vision is a swift swirl of blue and white. The sunlight etches intricate patterns on the road, a chaotic knit of grey and golden. I am walking down the road. Only this time, it is not a real road. Nothing that I see is really real. Only the music, that mingles with my blood and rushes to my head, and bursts out in colourful bubbles is true.



Nothing can touch me now. The brown dog at the corner of the street, the smoke coiling up from the steaming tea pot of the road side tea stall, the cars… blazes of black and silver speeding past, nothing . I cannot touch them either. I can only watch. Like one watches a movie. Observe. The rhythm. The beat. The way everything fits into the sound. Life surrounding me, orchestrated to the subtlest note of the music. Playing out like a fancy techno visualisation. As if everything else was created after the music. Planned according to it. And suddenly, everything seems so perfect. The wind after the sudden autumn shower ruffling my hair, the golden sunlight lighting up the mossy wet walls, the smell corn being roasted…


the music is becoming louder…. Reaching a crescendo…



Life in technicolor.