...you, my friend, are an unsung melody,
stuck in my stomach, struggling to breathe...

back.

it has been a long weekend.
i look different now.
i think i am a shade darker now.
doesn't matter, really.
i'm supposed to be dark.

train journeys excite me.
my mum and i are still those li'l stupid kids who jump at the sight of a train.
even if it is another train passing by the one we are in.
and also, the upper berth on two-tiered compartments is one of the best places to read a book.

but i am deviating from what i wanted to say.
again.
no, i realised that no matter how much i try escaping labels, i actually do fit a stereotype.
this is where train journeys again prove to be immensely educating.
propped up against my pillow, book in hand, i kept laughing to myself and rolling my eyes every time i heard my co-passengers from the next berth.
the brat of a babushona kept messing something up and babushona's mother kept cajoling him.
and it continued.
and then it dawned upon me.
i have never been a mamoni.
my mum was too busy doing everything else to bother wasting time over mamoni's-mother behaviour.
and that is why, i grew up to become what i am now.
bongo mayer ingo shontan.
i sit there, frowning at them for making such a hue and cry out of everything.
i stand there, frowning at the coolie spitting on the platform.
i walk by, frowning at the kid who comes up to me with a leaking nose.
that is what i am.
i realise that things will be like this.
things are supposed to be like this.
i just keep wishing that things were not like this.
thus, to the anonymous observer, i am this proud and vain little thing who keeps frowning at the world around her and keeps "ewww"ing in her head.

i wish it was different.
or, maybe not.
i think i prefer it this way.
at least, this way, i have a choice.
to choose for myself a better world.
and i think i am going to take it.

i missed a lot this weekend.
and i wished i hadn't.

but then again, i got to see dolphins.

i am not running.
the ground below my feet is zipping past.

new clothes.

pick up your fantasies and stitch them together.
up goes the needle,
and down again.
the thread is like a magical silver robe
which eases the senses
and erases the pain.

--------------------------

the rainbow hides behind the evil gray cloud
waiting for the little drop of sunshine to filter in
and then it peeks out silently,
and paints that smile on your face
as I see that bright spark stealthily
escape the rough exterior of a girl
who hides herself behind the silk and the lace.

--------------------------

the dew spun a web last night.
the spider is not home
to see that you made it your abode of joy.
to you, this world is just a purple ping-pong ball
and life, a wonderful toy.

--------------------------

you are the babe that dreams are made of,
a little Thumbelina made
to cast away the mundane problems
of metropolitan life
which chose the apple God forbade.

--------------------------

maybe my rhymes make no sense at all.
forced, they are and oh-so-obvious.
but I only write so that you laugh
and shout
and giggle
throwing your hands about
even if it means that I sound incredulous.

--------------------------

believe me when I say
that it is what worries you
I want to do away with,
only because you waste precious time
and sweat and chime,
about a life that goes by
and you end up asking why-oh-why.
questions! questions!
do away with them.
fly like a bird
to where you want to be.
stitch your wings and unfold them,
one-two-three.

love song.

last monsoon, you told me that mangoes are not always sweet.
you were grumpy and you walked away.
"choose the sweet ones, then", i said as an afterthought.
but you were gone.
and you did not listen.

it is winter now.
i wish it snowed here.
then i could watch you rant and rage about how you are stuck inside and can not possibly leave.
yes, you would not be able to walk away anymore.
and then you could listen to what i have to say.
about sunshine and woolens and cantaloupes.
yes, you would know that i wanted to be with you under a cantaloupe someday.
maybe today.
but it does not matter.
you left.
and you left the door ajar.
and now, the cold december wind gushes in as an afterthought.
yes, afterthoughts.
that is what this is all about.

no, i don't like the beaches.
i'll go, still.
i wish you'd go to all those concerts we missed because you did not want to go.
i am going because you told me that you'll pick me up in an hour.
it is going to be 178 minutes in 24 seconds.

you dream of owning a 2008 Ferrari Scuderia.
i still depend on dad for my pocket money and part-time writing does not pay me as much.
please don't be mad at me for buying you the Hot Wheels version instead.

i still have the wilted red rose you gave me on my birthday.

i hope you know that i love you.
and i hope you hope that i hope the same.
hope.

it has been 194 minutes and 47 seconds.

christmastide.

you are too full of love.
share it.
spread the love this christmas.
and spread your hands and receive the love.


i love christmas.
every bit of it.
it makes me feel brilliant about myself.
most importantly, it makes me feel happy.

it is not about buying and receiving presents.
it is about realising the love that exists in one's love.
it is about showing the people you love that you care.
and you love them too.

merry christmas.

read this
http://estallidos.deviantart.com/art/things-i-do-for-you-99286680

and then this
http://moobsftw.deviantart.com/art/things-i-do-for-you-103610073

the first one is the original.


this is the original
http://estallidos.deviantart.com/art/letters-to-my-baby-brother-100655195

and this is what follows
http://moobsftw.deviantart.com/art/dear-matthew-103697440


and if you have time,
go to the plagiariser's blog.
http://ravenjazz.blogspot.com/
and compare it to the other posts made by the original writer which are on her dA gallery.


i feel sick.

full stop.

i wish i could take a rainbow and slide into anew dimension with orange and red butterflies sprinkling golden faery dust on my head as my feet touch the satin blue ground and my little gnomes scurry around me and i jump back startled but then i smile and i know that this is the world where i belong for this is the world which exists in my head where life is not black and white or shades of gray but is full of all the colours that human imagination can come up with and thus help make a world which is more real to me than the reality that encompasses me where people are too busy drowning themselves in their flood of tears without bothering to mop it up and make way for the niceties that would fill them up with the happiness they would otherwise never know and would thus forget the very essence of living and the root cause of existence which is not to die but to live so big that one could never die as one would then be able to transcend mortality and fill the air around them with a warmth that would be as comforting as a sunny winter morning full of smiles and those little butterflies and five feet wide water lilies and the sound of the labourous water axing at the rock giants at the bottom of the cliff and purifying everything that comes in its way and washing away all the negativity that is without you.


you smiled right now, didn't you?