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Beats in so many places

I read that there was a fire in Andover, near Boston.
I pinged her and saw the double tick
An hour later, a message, I am safe, don't worry.
The heart beats in such distant places.
People die long before they are dead.
Recent posts

Time

Can I borrow you
From a Feynman’s Future
And hide you in my memory corridors
Forever locked
In blocks of eternal presentness?

Can I be with you
Without actually having to be
For that would require of me
To consume time
Grow old and die

I don’t want to fight
Entropy
I just want to be
In space outside of time
Just you and me

Back to the source

You live in those places in me
From where memory is first born
Where thoughts unfettered by fate
And untouched by destiny
Takes birth on its own free will
And lives on with a single desire

The desire to be one
With you.

Nothing else that matters
Matter,

Empty Houses

In the little moments of conscious clarity, between muddled minds, huddled bodies and cluttered spaces of my everyday living, I keep going back to the time we met last and said our last goodbyes.

If I knew that you would move into the mist and be one with the fog and the darkening caves;
If I knew that the somersaults of your mind would exile me into the realms of the unknown, and that you would take my place, my face and my being in you
and consume it to an ancient memory …

Maybe I would have held you back a little closer.
Hugged you a little tighter, smelt you a little longer, allowed your entangled hairs to ease out of my fingers, a little slower.

Maybe, just maybe, I would have gone for that one last kiss...

Why does it not rain...like rain?

Why does it rain in little drizzles
And not just pour it's heart out
All at once and for all time, into all places
Into the roads the canals and the drains

Why does it not rain, like rain?

Why not just roar
And with a thunderous wail
Cause a cloudburst
Break a Dam
Deluge a city
Annihilate

Why does it not rain like rain?

If only I could think of you,
Just once
Instead of having to think
In drizzles and drops and sobs
And in between shadows
And all this chaos

If I could think of you
For the last time,
Like a cloudburst
And then
In one brilliant tragic flood
Be washed away and be gone
Forever, With all this slush
And all this mud.

Some lives

The dawn was breaking across the horizon.
I could see crimson orange streaks of sunlight getting scattered in the morning mist.
This was the time she generally got up and walked to the kitchen. The time when, with ruffled hairs and a wrinkled nighty, all dark and broody, she would look out of the balcony and breathe in another day. A day that would be broody or cranky or happy, depending on what mood she woke up with.

The Sunlight that streaks across the clouds of an oncoming monsoon would also be shining down her windowpane just now. Just now, she would also be looking up at the sky. Just now, she would also be alive in some other part of the world, thinking about everything but me.

I watched the sun hang in there for a moment, as if asking of me to move ahead and stop thinking about her.
And then I stopped thinking about her, and the day moved on.

The Space is a cold place

Were you two really close once?
I don't know. Never really thought about it that way. I always liked to believe that I was close to her. But then I will never really know, right?


And now?
And now I know that I am not. I am no longer a moon, and she no longer is my Sun. From where I live now, she is more like a distant star, and I, a satellite, unhinged.