Survival is an edge that drags any leaving being in bit by bit from selfless to sleflish from saviour to killer.

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Organized chaos......

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BORN IN THE 80'S, RAISED IN THE 90S
We are the last generation that learned to play in the street, we are the pioneers of walkmans and chatroons. We were the last to record songs of the radio on cassettes. We learned how to program the VCR before anyone else. We waited for Sunday's like nobody did.
We grew up watching jungle book, duck tales, tom and jerry, talespin, malgudi days, giant robot and he-man. We witness golden era of television add world. We traveled in cars with no seatbelts we enjoyed front seat of double decker bus. We didn't know when to stop eating calories were never our concern.
we lived without cell phones, we wrote letters, we grew up without profiles and likes and bathroom mirror pictures..
WE HAD THE BEST OF THE BEST OF ALL TIME...

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Every day is passing leave unknown footprint towards darknese, There's this sadness in these prints. The kind you sometimes see in those who want to die, but life won’t let them. There are things out there that our little minds will never comprehend.
We all face the same end. every now and then it’s good to question incessantly those unanswerd questions, What we know is a drop. What we don’t know is an ocean. The end is the beginning, and the beginning is the end. We’re not free in what we do because we’re not free in what we want. We can’t overcome what’s deep within us what's dark within darkness.

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Your loss is immeasurable. But so is love left behind that goes on and continues to you precious fur baby.
you will always be connected...

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She's real, she's deep
She's original, she's rare
she's logical and mystical
She believes in kindness and
oneness and romance and magic
She's sensitive and quiet
A warrior, a lover
She believes in road trips to the
stars and dancing with the
universe.
She's fearless, she's fragile
wondrous and brave
She's cold as frozen desert
and hot as wildfire
She lives in waterfals and forests
and sunsets and galaxies and sky
above my head
She's the artist, the thinker, the
poem,and the dream

And I'm her ghostwriter...

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I blame the rain's for my coffee addiction just as I blame my print of jounery to be the cause of my depression, just as I blame myself for fate which was actually never in my control and than give myself hard time, just as I blame socitey made of plastic chosen by myself, just as I blame others for hurting me when myself give them too much significance, just as I blame god for my failures.

A fact being, it's me, who brews coffee if there's even a sing of thunder and later it'll be me blaming some other season once monsoon is over...

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I am not a protagonist
Neither a trigger to your sleeping soul
Nor a ventilator to your sinking lungs.
I am clown of your depressed doorsteps
Either a monk to the nomad sailor,
Or a dictator to a free traveler.

I am from no man's land
Neither a worshiper in your heart
Nor a compulsion in your mind.
I'm a brown stain in a mirror of black and white,
Either a blank collorage in your sleeping night
Or just a fellow dreamer in your low and highs.

I am not a friend among the friend you have
Neither just a lover of your milky skin
Nor an enemy of your salty blood.
I'm just an another thought
among those thousand vibes,
just a another tiny vibe
breathing in your blinking life!!!

I am not a protagonist
I am antagonist chapter of your journey call life......

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That night...

I have never seen eyes like yours,
drops of kindness resting on jaws that haven't been loved much lately.
I engaged your eyes with mine, for a jiffy everthing was blur and in other jiffy I knew my new journey from there. Your eyes.. Your eyes where my world and words dissolves into a bokeh and for once and for froever become beautiful, so beautiful... in a flash i fall in love with you, like i loved you for ages and wanna love you after ageover.

Even at the peak of this immeasurable despair
In the uncertain leap year of this sadness without me
do you see any colour this monsoon?

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कुछ दिनों की ख़ामोशी है फ़िर शोर आएगा
आज हिस्से मे दूरिया आई है
कल हमारा दौर आएगा

लेता है जो आज बेमुरव्वत सा इम्तेहान ये वक़्त
कमबखत ये वक़्त की फितरत है कल फ़िर बदल जायेगा

कुछ दिनों की ख़ामोशी है फ़िर शोर आएगा

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