"OK happy budday"

This day last year,
I was excited and You were oblivious
-to all those stuffs that spelt the World of "us"
But foolish me, I forgot
You were never a resident of "us".
But never to give in
And persevering till the hilt
It took Me 23 hours, to finally get what I was awaiting
And those three words, sealed my day--
"OK, happy budday..."
And that was all that You had to say.

This day this year
For some reason I don't look back
And neither do I wait
For those words to be said
This day this year
I know You are again oblivious
But don't be, as there's no more a World of "us"
This day this year
Is just another day to be stroked off in the end.
But it still gets a "OK, happy budday" from me.

i remember music
i remember love
i remember them all
that reminds me of love

of the rhythm divine and the jingling bells
of those soft falls and the careless waves
of folding fingers and swaying bodies
of sitting idle and warm coffee
of chill in the air and swings of flair
of the random talks and of those long walks
of solitude redefined.

yes.
i remember love
and all that comes along
the tears and the fights and the random delights
of kisses and the hugs and my zoozoo mug
of the words unspoken and the deepest wish
the soft caress of the supple lips.

and i remember them all
that reminds me of love.

and at times, yeah it feels, maybe you should have married.

what is it about anyway?

is it really all about how many "calls" you get? something like, "calls from college", "calls from corporates", "calls for meetings", "calls for interviews", "shortlisting calls", and so on and so forth of "calls"..

is it really about how many "levels" you cross/reach? something that always goes like, "upto how many levels have you completed in your study of foreign language?", "which level are you currently on, in dance?", and in a parallel field, it goes thus, "hey dude, till what base did ya hit on,eh?" all complete (with full stops and commas) with eager eyes and almost drooling senses..

is it really about the "how many"s? something like, "how many did you get?", "how much do you earn?", and in a parallel field, "how many did you lay?"

is it really always about the "how"s and the "many"s?
is that's what "life" is to people?

is it so important to be like, "how is my life"? why can't it be, just for this once, like "This is it.."

darn it!!!! what is it about anyway?!

love..addiction..bliss..haven

"...No coffee is like another. Every house has its coffee, and every hand too, because no soul is like another...The aroma of coffee is a return to and a bringing back of first things because it is the offspring of the primordial. It’s a journey, begun thousands of years ago, that still goes on. Coffee is a place. Coffee is pores that let the inside seep through to the outside. A separation that unites what can’t be united except through its aroma. Coffee is not for weaning. On the contrary, coffee is a breast that nourishes men deeply. A morning born of a bitter taste. The milk of manhood. Coffee is geography."- Mahmoud Darwish.

the blue wall.

yes.. it will be a blue wall.. with a texture of that of an untidily wiped wall.. and it will be my wall.. with all my stuffs.. ornate with all the pics that has all the memories of the time spent with one and all.. but not all and sundry.. some has the specific memories of one specific time and moment.. a special and stupid time in space.. and then it will also have my scribblers.. some sense and some making a lot of non-sense.. and it will have the laziest cat on the wall. the big and proud lazy cat!

when do you know that the person is the special one? or you are the special one for the person? is it when you find yourself telling everything uninhibitingly to that person, time and again, at any given time in space? or is it when you find the need to tell that person everything?maybe, i think, it is when, even without asking, the person comes forward and tells it to you.. when the person bares it all.. sheds all the inhibitions.. because, nothing else matters to the person.. and everything matters to you..

but maybe, above all, you reach a point beyond all the justifications..
you are special.. the person is special..
period.

and yes.. sometimes something(s) do(es) exist(s)that can go wierder than these Roobishes.period.

"Every part of my heart, I'm giving out
Every song on my lips, I'm singing out
Any fear of my soul, I'm letting go
And anyone who asks I'll let him know
She's the One, She's the One I'll say it loud
She's the One, She's the One I'll say it proud
Ring a bell, ring a bell for the whole crowd
Ring a bell, ring a bell
I'm telling the world
That I've found the Girl
The One I can live for
The One who deserves
To give out the light
A reason to fly
The One I can live for
A reason for life."

She was meeting him after 10 years. And as she was standing in front of the mirror, getting dressed, a smile crept its way upto her lips when the memories of their first introduction and subsequent gradual association flashed in front of her eyes.

Yes, it was a long time ago. Ten years is surely a long time. An entire life has been spent by both of them in those ten years. She still remembers distinctly the first time she saw him. And it was not the same as the first time "they" met. He was the tall, quiet and lanky boy--a perfect copybook rendition of the "new admission student"--VIIIth A. She was a year junior to him--in VIIth A. And she always used to be in awe of him. Because, even as the new student, he had made his impression and mark among everyone in the school. And she was no exception either.

And gradually as time passed, even he became acquainted with her. Initially through his friends and the faculty and then through the occassional candid meet ups in the corridors or in th assembly. But the first (as such) meet (of certain noteworthiness) would be that one time, when they were both competing against each other at a debate. And that precisely was the starting of their...



p.s. the above is the result of an absolute random scribbling over a torn page lying desolately beneath my shelf, which i happened to clean the night before..the end is where precisely, the chain of thoughts stopped and so the writing.. strangely, i drew a blank and was greeted by my sheer inability to carry it forward.. and so, i chose it to let it be like that..