I often tend to lose touch,
With myself ,
And there is a disassociation..
Sometimes a narrow one,
Sometimes vast,
Sometimes momentary,
Sometimes for days to last..
And out of nowhere,
The spark returns,
To fill the me in me,
I have been missing for long..

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क्या आज़ादी वो है
जिसमे
पीडा,
झूठ,
छल,
कपट,
अनादर,
पैंतरा है...

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Writing is meditative. It surely is but it requires intermittent visits to your blazing wounds. You haven't healed completely but healing has been already started for you can't write until pain lessens. You become numb, listless, too disoriented to feel your existence even, writing is a far cry. A bit healed still a lot hurt, it's my catharsis.

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Hum khud se hi khush nahi rahe, na humse khud khushi hi ho payi,
Hum to begaane khud k bhi ho na sake, itne bekhud ki na khudai bhi ho payi.

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Nowadays I am so off...
disoriented & quite
No one else to blame
Just me & my expectations !

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I am the last piece of disoriented puzzle

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She is disoriented.
As if detached,
From the whole world.
Yet she watches from afar,
wide eyed, absent minded.
Lost in her own thoughts.
Wondering if she'll ever belong
to that world again,
of which she was an integral part.
She weeps and mourns,
but the thoughts don't cease
as she blurs away into the oblivion.

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I wake up late, after that cold night, to still see the messy room! In a flash, the whole wrecking episode of last night comes to my mind. There is nothing so indifferent about my room. It has always been messy, with books laying all around the floor, with clothes and comb inbetween. It is a nightmare when you have to find a little space to place the feet after you wake up from bed. I place my feet on the chemistry book, and take it back very quickly in reflex, as if the book is capable of conducting electricity. I was taught that the books are more auspicious. I shall not even touch it without brushing the teeth, else the goddess Saraswati might slap me hard to get that wisdom teeth out. I might have wanted to try that; because I always dread about dentist appointments. I would love to see my room clean. But the problem is, I get sidetracked when I start to pick the books from the floor. I pick one, two, three books, and there I sit with the pile thinking of what is happening in my life. Just like this piece of writing, where I started to convey about the problems of last night, I sidetracked to discuss about my messy room.

~digging the past!

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किश्त दर किश्त, जमा करते हैं ज़िन्दगी
किसी और जनम में, ख़र्चने की ख़ातिर

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Lucid Nightmare
(Read caption)

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