Such happy days. I hope they never end. Close friends, lip-smacking food, stash, music, movies, rains- a recipe for a perfect weekend. I hate goodbyes, the finality of leaving. Imagine yourself at the shore, watching the ship billowing smoke as it sets off. All you can do is wait. And i can never wait, for either i jump and sink or swim till my arms gives way. Either way i'm going down. But in the depths lies stillness. May be that is what i want. Not a Waiting for Godot situation. Endless wait= tyranny of time. I want to conquer time in that still moment- stretch it, hold it, perfect it. I don't know what I 'm saying. I never know. But at least I know that you know. And if you know, the world will conspire to make me know. So yeah. Cool

Qawwali is just power- power of music. grand and deliberative yet respectful and solemn. I like how it embodies contrasting ideas but presents a whole unified philosophy about truth, love, spirit, the Almighty. I don't know urdu, which means i lose out on the nuanced meanings, the subtleties of what is said. but i don't let that dampen my enthusiasm. for some joys are just unadulterated pleasures. nothing but bliss. language or words have nothing to do with it. even if i was deaf, blind and mute, it would still reverberate in my body, my soul. that is what music does to you. opens your pores and let's you soak in the nectar. oh! the sweetest thing

These days are making me blurry-eyed and weary. Yet I plod along, for this is the only way I know how to live. I have seen so much, experienced so little. Somehow, I have a long way to go. To this beginning, where it all ends, i am unsure of the journey ahead. Call it what you may, I prefer the power of vulnerability. Life is fragile, handle with care but never despair.

I only write when i'm bluesy.this persuasion comes from melancholy. it breeds thoughts from mindless thinking. it draws light on hidden feelings. it brings clarity to meaningless existence. it's saraswati puja and i wonder whether my family is still sitting around the goddess chatting incessantly, whether flowers were offered at the end of anjali, whether the cooks are rustling up that delicious bhog i used to hog on, whether there will be music, song and dance in the evening. i am restless at the moment. i miss home. the physicality of being there. i know i can experience it all in my imagination but that is never enough. tangible presence is what i need now.u hear me.