A Line.

Published March 23, 2016 by Virgo293

Life is a line. A topsy-turvy, roller-coaster, straight yet curved, impossible to trace line. A line that goes up and down and up and down and up and down. In its wave form, the crests and troughs are difficult to gauge, predict and at times even deal with.

When you are just expecting a difficult climb, your tummy tickles with a sudden fall. And just when you are easing out for a comfortable drop down, it turns that you have to trek a rift all the way up.

It’s enough, believe me, for all of this to make your head spin. To make it go round. And round. And round. Enough at least to have you stop and look around. To seek a corner and sit. And take a deep breath. Even better if it is green, the corner. And below the stars. It still has to be in this world, unfortunately.  But trance, isn’t far away.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then, Open your eyes. Re-adjust your vision.

The smile, will automatically come back.

Lay back. Lie down. Look up. And give yourself a break. From the hop skip and jump. From day and night. From good and bad. From thoughts and feelings. From them. And from yourself.

There is a lot inside. Waiting to settle down. To relax. To take a nap. Or maybe some actual sleep. Give all of that a treat.

Close your eyes.

When you open them next, you’ll perhaps believe me. Believe me when I say that even through the stagnancy, you’ve traversed to a different point, in the same line.



Published February 21, 2016 by Virgo293


Glistening light, a smilie and a good morning wish. A text that says so much that words are unable to.

The same glistening light. A similar good morning text. Words again communicate so much. Yet, the smile isn’t just missing on your phone. It din’t appear on your sleep-ridden, heavy eyed, face as well.

It shouldn’t be a surprise how smilies have affected our mode of communication so much. They’ve reassured the world of the fact that there is so much that words simply can’t define. They are aptly called emoticons, because what they communicate, are pure emotions.

That blush on your face has no other way to travel the distance it so easily does these days, nor those stars in your eyes. Ditto for your heavy heart. They don’t just communicate feelings, these smilies. They make the reader feel.

In short, they do everything that I would like to do as a writer,  but with words. No wonder they put me to spot. I genuinely feel insecure.

Because no matter how hard I try to mix flirtatiousness to my language, the piece just remains incomplete without a wink. My heart felt poetry fails to convey anything, until I use a prompter. Even a formal email, becomes much more interesting, with the use of an appropriate smile.

I wonder if this matters though. Why can’t I just use them, make my job easier, and get over with the fuss. After all, this might just be a transformation language is going through. And I agree that words by themselves are too powerful to be afraid of a transition like this.

But writers, especially the ones like me, definitely have something to think about

Amidst all these thoughts, the only reassuring one is that no matter how hard they try, one thing emoticons can never win over is Silence.

Perhaps because this is the only one thing that words have never been able to triumph over. And perhaps because, the whole point of silence, is to gauge understanding, without expression.

How silence not being affected is of reassurance to a writer, is a discussion for another time. But I insist that they should keep writing, with or without emoticonning.

PS I am really tempted to put a simlie at the end of this post, but I won’t because I have to make a point. 😉

Back Home

Published October 7, 2015 by Virgo293

Some words. A deed. An alien world.
A scary walk. Unlimited smoke. An empty street.
Doors shut. Lines drawn. An almost dark night.

I am looking around for light.
For another soul that’s human.
In all these faces that look like me, I am looking for something that resonates within.

I see something shine far away.
Light that is reflected right onto my face.
I run up the distance, in one single lap, rubbing my eyes to get more clarity.

And the vision, freezes me.
I notice the chill in my own eyes.
In the mirror ahead, I see myself. The self that has become a part of them.

I halt. I cry. Even shiver for a while.
But then I get back to the search.
Of the illusion I had of myself, when I was back home.


Out of Context

Published September 9, 2015 by Virgo293
We live a life full of miseries today. We wake up with cars honking in our ears, in pea sized bedrooms that neither have enough bed nor enough room, to see faces of people filled with lines.
The day that follows has sunshine just as light and heat keeps fowling upon us when the sky is full of clouds. The grey of concrete that surrounds us, is worse than black at times. You smile briefly until the news of a mishap, a manhandling and at times even a war reaches you. And then there are people that nag you down your throat.
We live in perpetual frustration. Happiness, prosperity and laughter, in a world like this, become non-contextual.
There’s is little you can do about any of this. In the brink that these instances happen, they fill your life with misery, and affect you all over.
They say it is about the eye. About how you look at things. But then the glass is no longer half full. And the last few drops left in it force you to see the emptiness it is filled with. What do you do then, imagine a full glass?
I read something on a newspaper today, and it is truer now, than ever before. It said ‘The world is comic, but the joke is on mankind.’
Let’s face it, in the world today, if there is little to look forward to if you are a realist.
But the deal is that, I, am not a realist. And perhaps that is precisely why, I am out of context.
Blog -1


Published July 5, 2015 by Virgo293
The old self that I was, has been long left behind. The new self is layering itself with multiple shades everyday. This gift of life is unfolding only to spread sheets and sheets of new loom over me.

And I, am patiently waiting. I am letting the cover reach my soul. Sniffing each fold, tickling each corner, playing with the softness, feeling it all. In a room full of light, I am figuring the brightest corner. The one in which it will be safe to hide.
And once I find it, I think I will stay there for a while. Metamorphosize beneath the cocoon… Develop the beliefs. Live with them for sometime.
Until I find a reason to come out. Reason enough to risk my existence for an experiment. An experiment that will have me stand the test of time. Or progress into another transformation.


Published June 24, 2015 by Virgo293

I haven’t seen anything as fickle as respect. Those little glasses people look at you with, become misty time and again. Their vision, doesn’t last forever. A little pull here, a little push there, and boom… it’s gone.

But it is easy to come too, this thing they call respect. You pick your ego up, snort that nose back a little, squeeze in a bit of attitude, and people look up to you. The best way to have it in fact is a little secrecy. Discretion, like the elite amongst us will call it. I am sure that’s out of knowledge, of the fact that once their truths are known, no one will ever respect them. And hence begins the show. The masquerade of virtue, of kindness, and at times even humility. And it gets you what you want. Pat after pat on your back.

But just when you’re resting, that respect, the one that came in fairly easy, knows better than to stay. It falls like a castle of placards on a windy night. One blow, a single misdeed and its over.

What goes with it, is worse. Years of genuine hard work. The endless smiles you have exchanged. The unassuming comfort people confided in you with. People change, and no matter how hard you try not to, you change with them.

What do you do then?80c462fd144894f4eeba8cf2d22ac75c

You start once again. Building glasses for people. From that sweeper in your lawn to the boss you report to.This edge of a sword that you make out of your life, is of course your choice. You want ‘respect’ after all.

Just that, this time when you distribute those glasses, may be you should work towards creating an actual vision. Perhaps then, this illusion you are trying to create, might actually have a character. And perhaps then, when this castle of respect shatters again, your value will still remain.

Say it Again!

Published March 17, 2015 by Virgo293


Words, spoken once, can’t be repeated. They can be formed and delivered with the same tone and accent; but repetition, no. That moment in time, when they were said, the way they were, can never be recreated. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.

The morning dew, along with the azan, marks the beginning of each day for me. It doesn’t start the same old one though. It starts something new.

When that delicious food bite, fills in your taste buds for the umpteenth time in your favourite restaurant, the flavour hasn’t been replicated. It has taken effort, and expertise, and a lot of them both, to get to you the same experience. And yet, each experience is new.

I met this painter once. He said he couldn’t use the same muse twice. It just didn’t inspire him anymore. And then he showed me around fifty paintings of the same beloved. She was in a different position, in a different state and a different state of mind in each of them. And therefore, each painting was different. And new.

Boredom and monotony then, I think, can’t be the fault of just words. It is possibly the lack of feelings behind those words.

Perhaps that is why everyday in the rainy season doesn’t infuse poetry into your ink.

And perhaps that is why, my dad doesn’t get bored of I love Youing my mom. Because he  never repeats it. He just says it again!

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