Friday, 22 February 2013



"നിന്നെ ഞാന്‍ എന്റെ ജീവനെക്കാളേറെ സ്നേഹിക്കുന്നു പ്രിയെ.
നീ എന്റെയെന്നു ഞാന്‍ വിശ്വസിച്ചുകൊള്ളട്ടെ?"


"ഞാന്‍ റെഡി; നീ റെഡിയാണോ?"


Thursday, 21 February 2013


മുഖം നോക്കാതെ നടപടി
"മുഖപുസ്തക"ത്തിലൂടെ മറുപടി
അങ്ങനെ ഒരു തര്‍ക്കം കൂടി

Monday, 11 February 2013

An Exciting Day

Woke up at 0600
Breakfast at 0800
Classes at 0905

Saw “her” but didn’t talk
Tried to but couldn’t

Lunch at 1300
Classes again at 1415
Tea at 1630
Back to room at 1700

Homework till 1800
Read Camus at 1800
Read Camus at 1900
Read Camus at 2000

Dinner at 2015
Solitary stroll till 2130
Back to room at 2145
Read Camus till 2230
Off to bed at 2245

An Exciting Day

Saturday, 9 February 2013

Contemplation At An Ungodly Hour

Here I sit under the Banyan Tree,
Waiting for Enlightenment?
I don't really know.
It's three in the morning.

A mating war among some dogs,
For the only bitch in their midst,
Is being raged before my eyes.
Eat, Drink, Sleep and Fuck.
Must be a nice way to live.

This is the apparent time when the veil is the thinnest,
Among mere mortals and eternal immortals.
But as I wait, nothing comes my way,
Neither living nor dead, just a vague, faint rustle.

It must be nice to meet one of those who have moved on,
For they might have solved the cliches that haunt the human mind.
Or maybe they're equally unclear, searching for respite still.
Maybe they hope together we can unravel the mysteries unsolved.

Waiting for the unlikely tryst, a thought flitted by my mind.
Maybe I'm not who think I am.
Maybe I am someone else in my makeup.
Maybe I don't exist at all.
But I think: "I don't", ergo I am.

The dogs are back and are now howling at me.
It's said they sense the paranormal.
Is the tryst about to happen? Or maybe it's just me.

Still, I sit here, staring into an abyss.
Searching answers for the questions unknown.
And here I have another scribble, another squiggle,
Upping my blog-post number by one.

Wednesday, 6 February 2013

The Freeze

The alert came with the countdown
10, 9 – I joined in – 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
The moment before climax. And
We Froze

It was exotic (sort of)
Quashing inhibitions
Casting away reluctance
We Froze

One, the thinker
Another, a cigarette in hand
Me, arms crossed
We Froze

It was eleven
The sun beating down upon
But ironically
We Froze

Thoughts were not epiphanic
Psyche was not enlightened
Nothing revealed. But still
We Froze

The five minutes we counted
Tried to be empty
And realized
Stillness is not all death