Saturday, 8 July 2017


I remember walking across the town barefoot, looking for nothing.

Crossing bridges, huge bridges. It carried the weight of overburdened trucks at night and ethereal dewdrops at morning equally well.

Some bridges looked masculine while some looked beautifully feminine. Iron-willed and trenchant.
I leaned on the edge of a bridge and saw rimless horizon with the sun setting in its pride, birds making their way back home.

And, for a moment, everything just froze.
I saw silence tiptoeing with time.

That evening, I witnessed a strong structure and fragile soul under the dim spotlight of the setting sun. Everything stood in grandeur. I saw a horde of awestruck fellows admiring the bridge and the captivating Sunset.

The river beneath, remained vague.
And so did I.

Saturday, 1 July 2017

Reminiscence of my psychosis.

A hill top.
A cottage.
Pine trees.
Walking through woods.
A cup of hot tea.
Sun rays cutting sharply through nimbus of mist, I walked past the narrow roadways leading towards something magnificent and magical.
I stood in front of a divinely humongous mountain, questioned myself if I should go ahead or retreat. But my brain commanded to climb the goddamn mountain and before I could get the answer, I was halfway through the woods.
Taking Idle and void pathways and with a blurry vision, I rolled into a place with no reason to go back or to go ahead. I reached a place where there was nowhere left to go. For the first time, I felt I’ve lived a life full of tiny insignificant things. I demanded magic while I denied it completely. I wanted to run and stop, sob and laugh all at once. I felt every emotion I avoided all those years. The air stretched all the words I buried beneath the layers of agony, smile, grief, anger, love.
I felt insane, sane and wise all at the same time.

They blustered for years that I was crazy.

They were right.