Posts

an image

-
Image
I have an image of a girl in my head, she's angelic. She's standing right in front of me. Behind her, a humble cathedral- kind of oxymoronic, the sky is clear blue which the cathedral seems to reflect. She's wearing a white shirt and something like a Victorian leather corset. She has let her hair down, it's being caressed by the breeze. She is a spirit as free as a wild mustang. She looks like the young Kaya Scodelario. She looks at me with empty, piercing blue eyes. As though she doesn't care about me. It feels like she has my heart in her hands and she's crushing it with the empty look on her face while she's up in some deep thought. The way you feel when you listen to the Kurt Cobain version of And I Love Her. An inexplicable longing for something non existent. Even if she cares she doesn't show it, she's a rolling stone. I look at her wanting to say something, anything at all, but I'm rendered speechless.
Read more

Consolidated Refunds of India

-
Image
 
Read more

दार-उल-कोहला

-
Image
  This music I once dreaded and it's glottal lyrics have gradually made their way into my heart. This wholesome dusk, spent deciphering a capricious assembly of couplets by Farida Khanum is a reminder of my latent appreciation for an elevated poetic form. 
Read more

Ladder of Abstraction in IR

-
Image
 
Read more

Minimal Apricity

-
Image
I gauge the jitters in the hall, rendering all my attention to this exam for the next 3 hours, regardless of whether I cruise through it or struggle with it. Every passing minute makes my hand cramp into an undecipherable writing, switching between a fogging brain to going 7K RPM. I outpour this piling anxiety by restlessly moving my feet while being at war. Sweating in the minimal apricity falling through the window, I rest my hands once they go numb and observe how calm everything on the outside looks while I sit in this chamber of distress. Nothing seems more tempting than leaving the exam hall at the moment. For a second, I compare being at the mercy of a pouring hourglass to everything outside these four walls. As I delve on this floating thought in my head I reach a conclusion that being at the mercy of a ticking clock implies the end of distress and misery once the time is up. Likewise, all misery is at the mercy of a ticking clock, bound to fade away. If not completely, then to
Read more

Being 12 again

-
Image
 
Read more

Morning Mist

-
Image
The morning today has a certain charm of hustle yet tranquility. I pull my diary out to capture this moment, not through the lens of my camera but through the lens of my eyes, my mind. I read the newspaper about halfway, I'll save the rest for later. As I sip my warm coffee, I gaze out the misty windows of the bus. The city is awake, headed downtown in the peak morning hours. Slow moving cars make way for my bus like a shoal of fish on the arrival of a whale in the sea traffic.  The streets, damp from the drizzle last night and still trees watch us go by to the office buildings waiting for it's dwellers. The floors of skyscrapers slowly lighting up for another busy morning. Yet I find a certain comfort amidst this hustle, which perhaps city rats are bound to. 
Read more