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Twilight

An evening rises
The day’s intense death
Screams like fire
Desires unbound and dying
Paint the sky
Like mad angels
A reluctant sun drowns slowly
Trusting the forlorn moon.

One Step

I climb twenty stairs twice a day. It takes me longer than most people to do this. This act of climbing stairs used to frighten me because it literally is an uphill task for me. As I wheezed my way up, my legs would turn into jelly and refuse to cooperate. Sometimes I get dizzy and sit down halfway up. Some days I get cramps afterwards. Then one day I decided to take one step at a time.

I named each step after a person who inspires me and who has battled/is battling tougher things than I ever have.

The first and second steps are for H.Ramakrishnan
The third and fourth steps are for Stephen Hawking
The fifth and sixth steps are for Helen Keller
The seventh and eighth steps are for Beethoven
The ninth and tenth steps are for Braille
The eleventh and twelfth steps are for Jorge Luis Borges
The thirteenth and fourteenth steps are for John Milton
The fifteenth and sixteenth steps are for my dear friend Vishnupriya Krishnan, dreamer, fighter, mother of two gorgeous kiids, all despite her cerebral palsy.
The seventeenth and eighteenth steps are for another friend Alphons Antony, survivor, fighter, who has been tied to  a wheelchair from the age of sixteen due to an unfortunate accident. 😦

And when I reach the ninteenth and twentieth steps they are easy enough to climb with all the inspiration from these amazing people. Tell me who inspires you to climb those difficult steps in your life?

Trust

The heart, honey, is unlike anything else. It sometimes splits and takes sides. The mind conspires along with the heart and paints exagerratedly beautiful versions of the past. The present then becomes a prison.

The heart gravitates towards what it interprets as affection. It cannot see right or wrong. The mind conspires along with the heart and justifies every move it makes.

The heart wants those places that appear in dreams – such dreams that make you feel like you have everything in the world that you ever wanted. The mind wants endorphins and nothing else.

Trust is resignation. It is a form of willingness to lose what matters the most to you. It is comparing all those failures from your past to what you have, and preparing yourself for the worst. There is no such thing called trust. If you claim to trust someone, you are probably hiding your inner battle. In my opinion, only losers trust. They trust and then they lose. Or they live in ignorant bliss.

As for me honey, I am vigilant. I would rather see which cliff I would fall over than be unpleasantly surprised. Trust kills like nothing else. It is the last blow you will ever remember.

Everyday Love

I am in love with an ordinary man. I see him wave off people on strange roads, sweat on his brow and a curse on his tongue. I love the charioteers who bleat their horns like lost sheep in traffic chaos. And I love the guard with his gun that has become a scratch post.The brave moustache on his bony face. I love the dust that refuses to settle and the barking sun. The workers from alien lands gloating over their shiny, new hard hats. I love the monotonous man that chops the onions and potatoes all day, dying in the cinder heat. The little glimmer in the brown eyes of the tea-bearer. I love the bewildered days and nights and the dreams that rage unseen in their eyes. I love their secret love that keep the gears rolling and the machine moving.

Close Shave

With rejection came relief.

Because every open door means you are forced to relinquish the other doors
and every closed door means you can keep searching…

*Removes thinking cap and wears mad cap*

Darkness

Last night there was a power failure for 4 hours. I thought to myself “This is how it feels to be alone in a dark and silent room”. There was a thunderstorm outside.

Then I remembered the homeless man I saw in the evening. He was crouching on the sidewalk with a plastic sheet over his head to protect him from the rain. The place where he usually slept had drowned under a puddle of water.

How does it feel to be alone in a dark and silent world?

:-|

And remember….

daffy-duck.jpg

DAFFY DUCK IS MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!