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?

The J J Friday – Magic

Janelle, they don’t believe in magic, but I do.

There’s a reason we humans stubbornly duel for a label,
a label that illustrates us
as an adjective.

Black, Hindu, Chinese, Banker;
adjectives designated by humans who craved to substantiate their supremacy
well subjective.

Our conundrum thus lies at this world’s cause
they won’t recite our story till it’s worth reciting,
our story won’t be worth reciting if they keep it to a tattle

Only if they recognized that our terse exchange
of ‘dreams’
was aloft any label,
the kind that makes every transitory second execute like an eternal sobriety battle.

I attest it as a dream and not as a conversation or a memory, moment;
conversations are to be valued
moments to be lived
memories to be cherished,treasured
but dreams,
dreams are meant to be enticing, they are everything.
They are to be chased.

I don’t aspire to make this a quest ,
I just hope to perceive you
A migrant only hopes to reach his next asylum, not build his house or decorate his home.
That would be a dream.

I know the ‘us’ doesn’t sheen bright
not trendy
and doesn’t sound right.
But that’s the magic,
a magic with words which I intentionally, should write.

So hey, let there be drama and let them call this lame.
For once,
I have had the balls without alcohol in my brain.

Hours, Days, Months or Years from now,
Sun will be slightly less bright
World borders a scantly less wide
Or it could be a surrogate Boat Quay night
kismet would be compelled to find you,
Because they don’t believe in magic, but I do.

Hi, My name is Julian Dalbert and Guess what, I’m back!

Hey, Hello or Hi!

…I deferred my literature in a hope to find you.
Like a Monday morning tide
It has been almost 3 days since our last collide.

Hoping for a four day rule instead of three
Like Ted in that episode of HIMYM
For him it was the yellow, here it was The White.

I shouldn’t have looked away,
With the rhyme of Chivas, now it’s a heavy plight
All that’s left is a picture of you
and a few adjectives, with which I now describe:

Tranquil: That would be your smile
Caring: Would be the motherly shadow of your hair
Spring: The sound of your voice
Alluring: That glare in your eye

Believe me! It was easier when I was younger,
From the notions that today define me and my countrymen
If we were in 2009 or 2010,
I would have asked you about your favorite book or author
and then quoted it in this very literature to begin.

Wonder what stopped me from asking what I should have
Wonder what made you say what you did at that first place
Wonder or Wonder not!
If you still have that paper, give it glimpse
May be you decide to cut this chase.

Not that I have to hear from you, no magic, Do what’s right.
Forget the Stars.
but there’s a story in my head and a literature I want to write

Hey, Hello or Hi!
If you are to call; or if you get to read this at all.
Help me complete the description of an angel, an angel in white.

A Reflection of India – Pallavi Sanalkumar

Dear World,

Today I had a MIND = BLOWN moment when I came across an AJ+ video on Facebook about world’s first solar operated airport; The Cochin International Airport, India. While I was digesting the fact that my country’s first PPP Model airport was recognized for such an achievement, I was more enticed by the sparkling eyes that delivered this operational excellence.

Meet Pallavi SanalKumar, she’s an Operations Engineer at Kochin Airport. I think she was known as Pallavi Sanal (may be when she was unmarried?), back then she was the Junior Manager at the Cochin International Airport.

It took me almost 20 mins to find her on LinkedIn (I think it’s her), her profile is not updated for over 2/3 years. When you Google her, you do not see any profile links or image searches.

Why am I sharing all this? Because individuals like Pallavi are real builders of my Nation yet they are the least respected by the Urban societies. Categorized as Public Servants ONLY.

It is estimated that over 1.5 Million engineers graduate from Indian colleges/universities every year. Think of it was 1.5 Million Pallavis and the fact will BLOW your MIND.


This plant will produce 18 million units of power from ‘ sun ‘ annually-the power equivalent to feed 10,000 homes for one year.Over the next 25 years, this green power project will avoid carbon dioxide emissions from coal fired power plants by more than 3 lakh metric tons, which is equivalent to planting 3 million trees or not driving 750 miles.
Source: Link

So next time you receive a CV of an Indian and you don’t find him/her on LinkedIn or you find her/his profile too simple, THINK AGAIN, she might be your Pallavi.

Pallavi, We’re Proud of You. Thank you!


Hon.Chief Minister Mr.Oommen Chandy inaugurated the 12 MWp solar power plant, on 18th August 2015, comprising of 46,150 solar panels laid across 45 acres near cargo complex. Now, Cochin airport’s solar power plant  is producing 50,000 to 60,000 units of electricity per day to be consumed for all its operational functions, which  technically make the airport ‘ absolutely power neutral ‘. Source: Link

Sure there are many more Indians involved in delivering this EPIC achievement, Pallavi is just an example of the exemplary Indian talent. 

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.