Thursday, March 31, 2005


A vile dream and all is pain,
Twitches, twists on the nights winding way,
Come morning the dream is gone,
A faint tremor and then she falls into unperturbed calm.
A chair to sit on, peering with those doused eyes,
She sits still for the sullen artist,
Who walks in with his sullen stride.
A brush stroke here and a stab there, a frown and then a disgusted cry,
‘Smile you hag. Give me a better picture to paint! Don’t sit there like a waxen display!’
‘Art thou dead? Art thou dead?’ they scream in her face,
No, not yet the doctor declares.
‘O but she sits so still, O but she hears not what he says.’
‘Slap her, make her cry, O let her stir, she is the bride!’
Again, again, the vague princess shaken and jabbed,
Trembling lips, a tiny tear,
Appreciative smiles, glad cheer…
And then they abandon.
The artist satiated, stabs, strokes, swipes his brush,
Stands back to look at his piece,
Stares back a pale dame in lonely colours.
‘Art thou dead? Art thou dead?’
‘No, not yet.’

Wednesday, March 23, 2005


Its silent now. Loneliness is welcome till it finally comes. The song about love is playing and it suddenly makes me blue. I am singing out loud and almost crying. I am craving to hear someone talk. For someone to make me laugh or just tell me I am stupid. I ask the air to tell me something. Whoo. Well, that’s what you get when you don’t appreciate company. It’s the phone ringing and I almost scream with joy. It’s her and she wants to know if I will go to the mall with her and the others. I almost cry now. 'yes yes yes!!!' she laughs and asks "why lady, why so happy?" I am still too choked with happiness to talk. I just switch off the phone. Come Wednesday everything goes wrong. I am looking like a hag, feeling like a dope and more than looking forward to meeting them. An hour before I am supposed to leave she calls again, "hey, there’s bad news. We cant go today. I have to help mom with the cleaning up and then have to go to the youth group party. Mind if we cancel it?"
Too angry to care.
"Sure. Not like I really matter is it? I mean what you can thrash me around and who cares? I am insignificant anyways. Go ahead, go for the jam. You shouldn’t have called. I should have come to the mall and then been dumped. That would have been fun wouldn’t it?"
I keep the phone down and get some real loud music to blast the house with. Mom went out with her friends and I am all alone. Loaded with two mugs of honey and coffee and a wad of gum I switch on loud music and hate it. So I switch to something cheery. And suddenly things seem ca va. I smile and sing aloud. A phone call that I switch off. But he calls again.
"So you don’t pick my calls anymore huh?" he sounds pissed and I give him a laugh.
"Seems like your girlfriend dumped you."
I laugh again. "Tell me. I got all the time in the world."
"She keeps me. ME, waiting at the theatre for HALF AN HOUR and then doesn’t bother with a sorry even. I mean…"
Suddenly things don’t seem so bad. Still feel and look like shit but something tells me its ok. Enjoy whatever little time you aren’t alone.

Sunday, March 20, 2005


She screams from the kitchen. I had thought it was going to be louder. Those were unbreakable plates before I broke them. She yells and chastises but I cant hear her. Not even if she was doing that in my ears. "Sorry" "LIKE THAT'S DOING ANY GOOD." I look down. Nope, it doesn't do any good. Put down a note somewhere in the back of my head to get her a present for her birthday, knowing I wont. Well, something for the anniversary then.

Go out with another middle aged aunt and owing to her leg that broke a few months ago and her car that wont budge she gets me to drive the moped. Once we're back she screams, "You suck" and I grin (because this isn't my mother, just her younger sister) and scream back, "At least I am good at it." The "huh" tells me it's going to take some time to sink in. I'll wait. Not like I know what that meant. Not like I know why I am still breathing. Not like I know why I save my ass by a hair's breath everytime. Not like I really care either.

Middle aged women, old men (yip yip thats Saby, little cousins all hate me. It feels nice to be noticed though. It feels nice to be placid. Wonder what's waiting at the end of the road for me...

Sunday, March 13, 2005


And behold! This is my take on an angel. Tell me what you think Posted by Hello

Saturday, March 12, 2005


Gentle, soft,
Unaware of his presence I sleep,
While he builds up in my soul,
Entwining, groping, growing, crushing...
Piercing me when I am so fragile-
When I put my defences to rest.

Eyes open wide,
To let the day twinkle in the iris of a glass eye,
As the funereal sea rages underneath,
Crashing, destroying, murdering, weeping...

Splattered blood,
Withdrawing under his dominance,
Leaving me a pale monster,
To yellow with age.

He speaks with cold reserve,
His thoughts spilling into the night air,
Whose grace contuses as it brushes against me,
Dwindling as the suns rays tear through the nights drapes,
And oblivious to his presence I move...
Thrashing in the wait to whom I am a slave,
Watching as the gaps grow to reveal empty space,
He accompanies. .
Licking, loving, stabbing, caressing...
He plays.
Posted by Hello

Friday, March 11, 2005


Took up Dewdrops' idea and searched for de.vile on Google. And look what came up :D Picked it because it has a receeding chin, sorta like mine. Oh an as a passing note, this is a french warrior. Let me know what you think of it. And hey, Dewdy thanks for the idea. Think its great.
De.vile Posted by Hello

Tuesday, March 08, 2005


I always thought Pink Floyd sounded stupid but now I am hooked BIG TIME. And this is the one song that keeps re-re-re-re-winding on my player. Thought you guys would like these lyrics. Makes me smile every single time I listen to this.
Here it goes


So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Thursday, March 03, 2005


Here I go again. After a week of perfect 8-hour sleep I was back to my wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-feeling-like-you-can-never-sleep-again routine(o woe, miserable me). The shadows are back where they belong. The curvy darkness underneath the wide clear eyes that always looks so innocent. So here I am (o woe, miserable me), under the summer sun, in a cab sipping on the third cup of coffee with just enough money to reach the place, waiting for the traffic to clear when a hand pops in. The kid calls out for food or money, I’m not sure. Burned by the Bombay sun to a dark brown, the lines threatening to crack the snot smeared hand on the lightest prod. The palm abused by heat, mud and glue till it resembles the brown sands with its white rivers. Time is passing by and the hand is frantic for money. It pleads, hoping that my offerings would help him see the sun rise onto another day; threatening me with its unspoken words, ”Look! Look at this! And you think you are miserable? Have you seen something so small and fragile charred to such cruelty?” I closed my eyes wishing that the cab would move and the hand would go away realizing I wasn’t going to give it anything. But it stays, obstinate in its stance, demanding with its meek presence. The voice gets louder and the hand dares to move on to my shirt-my clean white shirt-tugging my wrist and pushing my bangles against my sweat soaked skin. The cab driver tries to shoo him away but the kid wont budge and so wouldn’t the traffic. I give up. I pay my charge and hand over the rest of the money to the kid. I am sure that will get the kid something to eat for today. Or maybe glue to sniff for a few days. I didn’t care. I was scared, penniless, still sleepy, and the headache was slowly creeping up my temples as I walked. I asked someone how far the place was. “Take a left and walk ahead, its somewhere around half a kilometer.” I walk. I wonder,” Do we live in the same world? The kid and me? Me and the kid?” The warmth of the coffee is suddenly unpleasant and it’s no longer aromatic. I throw away the last few sips unable to push it down my stinging throat, at least for now. Lord and Lady of infinite screw-ups(o woe, miserable me). I walk. Maybe there are two kinds of misery-brother, sister-external, internal... I walk.
“Babeh, babeh, babeh when all your love is gone; who will save me from all that I am up against out in this world…”