So what keeps you awake?

Is it the radiant light that drips through the corners of your naked window or is it the buzz of traffic drifting across the road?

Is it the bird that mourns to validate her existence or is it your neighbor who stands a risk of being persecuted every single night?

Is it the Air Con that ebbs your room temperature below that of Himalayas? or is it it your cat that cuffs your doors with her puffy claws to announce love?

Is it the fact that you’re thousand’s of miles away from home? or is it thought of comprehending why you’re so distant at the first place?

Is it the thought of your fellow country men that haven’t eaten an inch of bread in days or is it the idea of you not doing anything about it?

Is it the thought of love that was always yours and you blew it up? or is it the thought of love that wishes to ingress your heart this very moment?

Is it the thought of your next travel that sparks excitement? or is it the memories of the past that enchant you with their very occurrence?

Is it the choice you’re going to make today or is it the decision you made yesterday?

Is it a nightmare that wakes you up in the middle of your sleep? or is it a dream that does not let you sleep?

I’m damn bad at writing things.

I’m damn bad at writing things down; but guess what, you make me talk.
I’m not confident of the words I utter; but guess what, you make me knock.
Knock; at your red door, cautious of your bubble that would burst any instant
Let’s take that random late night run, a moon light walk.

Walk like we took at that bridge of Clarke Quay
Not sure about the shots of Mount Gay rum, one two or three
Three, was the number of dates we went on.
We should have done a coffee or may be just a little green tea.

Tee like woods would, back in 2009
Soar like an eagle without whiskey or wine
Wine is what we should have the next time we meet
Tea,Wine, Whiskey, Rum; with you everything is a treat.

Musings is what I utter and what you read
For a change this is my music, this is my creed

I’m bad at writing things but with you, I feel like I’m on weed.

What is a moment?

Every breath we take, every sound we make is a moment.

You cannot create or destroy a moment, you can simply transform it from one state to another. Moment is not energy.

But you can make a moment.

A father feeding his family, the cling of a wind chime, the repetitive rotation of the ceiling fan while a young girl ponders about love is a moment.

Clouds forming eclipses in the night sky is a moment.

Moment is neither physical nor virtual, yet you can feel it during the kiss and visualize it on your Instagram timeline.

A run in a park, the Oreo Mcflurry at  McDonalds, the cry of a baby is a moment.

It’s artificial yet natural. A drag from the Bali cigarette, the diffused scent of fresh curry leaf or the drying pair of sock on a window pane is a moment.

Moments are defined by Adjectives. Adjectives were defined during a moment. Eureka is a moment.

A moment is to defy all laws of physics; it’s neither space bound nor time; one minute can be too short for a moment and a millisecond too long.

The chirping of a bird, the flap of a tortoise and a falling star is a moment. Our idea of defining these as a moment comes itself from a historical or personal momentary experience.

The fortitude we display to make a choice is a moment. The choice itself is a moment.

The texture of a Red wine, the taste of lime or that late night dirty grid is a moment. Moment is an experience; some are bad.

Excitement is a moment, so is loneliness.

We were born in a moment; in a moment we shall die.

Moment is an aspect of a thing. Moment is obsolete.

My belief is a moment, my ink is a moment; my existence is a moment.

I’m a moment. But then what defines a moment?

Zigazig Ha – Find Your True Self.

Since the early days of British Raj, traveler’s from the western world visited India in order to find their true ‘self’. Their journeys were scripted with divine experiences on this very chaotic peninsula. Even today you can find travelers and tourists traversing India in order to find themselves. Not sure if it’s really true, not sure if they truly find themselves or are awakened to an understanding of what they really really want; personally it works the other way round for me, I get confused.

India confuses me.

This peninsula induces this rare feeling of self-reflection where I end up diving deep into a vicious circle of questioning my own decision and choices. It isn’t the feeling of regret but just too many questions that make me ponder, Is this what I really want?

But really? Like don’t we all know that these thoughts pop-up when we’re in our comfort zone and confusing our own apprehension, just in order to escape hardship and challenges.

So today when I questioned myself, “What do I really really want?”, I tuned into the following:

All we want, is to be set free
To live life, and to make it special
To see the real beauty in ourselves and others
To know that, when it all comes to an end,
We somehow made a difference and brought light into the world

Unfortunately, all the rambling pseudo-philosophical intros in the world wont make one bit of difference
And being on random substances in an Ibiza night club won’t help either

At moments like these you need to step back and say:

Where’s the bloody Spice Girl party?

Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha.

Spice Girls and Knife party, now that’s an unprecedented combination :D

#Random3AMPost #PracticingImpromptuWriteups

An Evening Grass Dew

As I slogged my way out from our rusty elevator of the west lobby
The aroma of ‘an evening grass dew’ enchanted my senses
It threw me into a flashback of Assam
Where my evenings were spent playing Cricket or at the bench with geeky girls on lenses

The dusk were almost antiquated in winters
Not that it stopped us from desperately frisking for a cricket ball lost in the mighty woods
The sunny days were spent dreaming at school
While the moon light nights walking around in hoods

I was part of a dancing troop formed at the local community club
Swaying to the tunes of Bollywood in an open ground, even in rain
I also did try to transcend myself to a literature communion
No matter how hard I tried, the teacher pronounced me useless, “all in vain”

Now that I’m lost in the corporate forest of a connected world
I recall I always planted my way in the woods
Whether it be biking around, acting as if engaged in extreme sports
Or trekking the hill behind the C-11 apartment where the zebra patched dog always stood

I’m not in touch with any of my friends or the geeky girls I flirted with
but I remember, I had a precious few
with Facebook, LinkedIn, WhatsApp, Twitter to connect
I really miss that aroma of an evening grass dew

There is an unknown reason why I’m still here not raising my voice,
nor am I standing up for the fight
perhaps, because I think I’m savvy, I get the gist of life
But I never understood why these thoughts only hit you at 11pm on a random weekday night.

One Tree Hill – Define Life.

They say we leave this world just the way we came into it — naked and alone.
So if we do leave with nothing, what then is the measure of a life?
Is it defined by the people we choose to love? Or is it simply measured by our accomplishments?
And what if we fail or are never truly loved? What then? Can we ever measure up?
Or will the quiet desperation of a life gone wanting, drive us mad?

38th Parallel

Father! I Killed them all.
It was the metal bullet; they fell like leaves of an eucalyptus tree
Tell me if this is a treason?
Only if I knew they were mothers, they had husbands and she had a son

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

Why are they enemies?
On a Maru they all lay dead, they had a Hanok too, just like ours
In her house, I found a partially consumed bibimbap
Encapsulated within a layer of blood, probably from my never ending bullet trap

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

I want to fight them, like you did against the men from the East
I do not understand why we need freedom from our own people
They speak my language and sing my song
Like our city Busan, isn’t that similar to where they are from?

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

When I threw the metal ball
I was awe-struck on the magnitude of honor I had achieved
a mother broke into pieces while holding her son in her arm
while his father lay dead with my bullet on his rice farm

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

Am’I to burn to hell
Am’I to play the winning drum
Those eyes are haunting me, they remind me of jamaeui
I think it’s time, the water drops from the leafy dewy

I’m not as brave as you nor am’I strong
Before I give up, please pray for me, so God accepts my song

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.