ruminating...any regrets??? i reckon, no.
The last time someone asked me if it was ok to be messed up, I said, ‘I reckon, yes.’ And yet when I turned around and said “you’re being ambiguous and obscure”; I get a swift revert, “if you see it all as obscure, its just testimony to you being unable to grasp what another person could be feeling or going through, which is something i now understand about you.” Mabbe rightly said or mabbe just as misunderstood as always.
And where did this all begin …? From a signature on an email that said “…narcissism is terminal”
‘The movies will be at my desk tomorrow.’…typical, very typical.
Post clockwork orange, we decided to do our own bicycle diaries (which amounted to a measly 5 kms away from campus over a span of 5 hours.) Were we slow? No we just explored places around campus. Took some pretty photographs, parked ourselves by a dry canal, got chased by dogs, and followed the cows at a snail’s place and topped it with a bird eye view of the village from a watertank-top. Nothing remarkably adventurous, just something we happened to cherish ….later.
Lots of backlash, lot of accusations, just a lot of expectations. “I switch off”, I scribbled on the portable wipe-board that hung next to the floyd poster on his wall. It seemed like an ugly anomaly to the poster.
Heh. I can’t help smile thinking about this. The brownie night. Walked up the same stairs, paced my steps as always, the door ajar as usual. Parked my self on the bed. Lay the brownie, next to the table. It was typical. You could be sleeping, singing, reading aloud, or just sitting silent by the bed and it would be the same – you’re there, yet not there. The fingers stretched to reach the brownie, a glance back and a sheepish smile. I get up, plant a kiss on the forehead, take my share of the brownie and head back. Sometimes it was just the serenity that was more expressive.
It was striking, how the same surroundings could sometimes make you feel so inconspicuous. The silence almost became an iron curtain.
One of us – a narcissist, the other – a nihilist. One time, we walked all the way in silence to the canal, just to watch the reflection of moon in the canal. We walked back in silence. And yet there were times, when we closed doors on each other and on others.
It was at the orphanage, where we finally broke our iron curtain again, after a lapse in time. It was notorious, playful, peaceful…it was liberating to be in my own skin again. The orphanage, became my refuge, it felt secure to be there. The streets of Lokhandwala seemed bright n festive..it drizzled a little. The bookstore felt like our wonderland. Yeah he even picked up comics …sheesh! And yes, there was an overdose of the absolutely sumptuous brownies to wrap up a perfectly well spent evening, from brownie point, bandra.
Sometimes, you rush it. Sometimes you just let it fade. Sometimes, you never let go.
In a minute there is time for revisions …and then in a minute you annihilate, coz u’re a nihilist or u're just really stooopid.
any regrets??? i reckon, no.
And where did this all begin …? From a signature on an email that said “…narcissism is terminal”
‘The movies will be at my desk tomorrow.’…typical, very typical.
Post clockwork orange, we decided to do our own bicycle diaries (which amounted to a measly 5 kms away from campus over a span of 5 hours.) Were we slow? No we just explored places around campus. Took some pretty photographs, parked ourselves by a dry canal, got chased by dogs, and followed the cows at a snail’s place and topped it with a bird eye view of the village from a watertank-top. Nothing remarkably adventurous, just something we happened to cherish ….later.
Lots of backlash, lot of accusations, just a lot of expectations. “I switch off”, I scribbled on the portable wipe-board that hung next to the floyd poster on his wall. It seemed like an ugly anomaly to the poster.
Heh. I can’t help smile thinking about this. The brownie night. Walked up the same stairs, paced my steps as always, the door ajar as usual. Parked my self on the bed. Lay the brownie, next to the table. It was typical. You could be sleeping, singing, reading aloud, or just sitting silent by the bed and it would be the same – you’re there, yet not there. The fingers stretched to reach the brownie, a glance back and a sheepish smile. I get up, plant a kiss on the forehead, take my share of the brownie and head back. Sometimes it was just the serenity that was more expressive.
It was striking, how the same surroundings could sometimes make you feel so inconspicuous. The silence almost became an iron curtain.
One of us – a narcissist, the other – a nihilist. One time, we walked all the way in silence to the canal, just to watch the reflection of moon in the canal. We walked back in silence. And yet there were times, when we closed doors on each other and on others.
It was at the orphanage, where we finally broke our iron curtain again, after a lapse in time. It was notorious, playful, peaceful…it was liberating to be in my own skin again. The orphanage, became my refuge, it felt secure to be there. The streets of Lokhandwala seemed bright n festive..it drizzled a little. The bookstore felt like our wonderland. Yeah he even picked up comics …sheesh! And yes, there was an overdose of the absolutely sumptuous brownies to wrap up a perfectly well spent evening, from brownie point, bandra.
Sometimes, you rush it. Sometimes you just let it fade. Sometimes, you never let go.
In a minute there is time for revisions …and then in a minute you annihilate, coz u’re a nihilist or u're just really stooopid.
any regrets??? i reckon, no.
posted by NEHA DUTTA at 5:39 AM
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