My Midnight Story

The lights are out. It is almost pitch dark. The glow in the dark stars on my wall are throwing out their pent up energy from absorbing all the  fluorescent light.

I stare at the star studded wall and pretend that I’m under the starry skies. Skies full of beautiful green stars and green crescent moons. I stare at them waiting for my eyes to droop, and I slip in that beautiful state of sleep. Just when I am on the threshold of the beautiful sleep world, a thought creeps in. My beautiful, brilliant thoughts, that would seem weird to you and the whole world.

It will probably, like right now, start with me dwelling on the latest mistake that I made, and say things like, “I believed I had learned from it and moved on”. And then, out of the blue, I get a brainwave: What if I really were a time lord? I would then travel to that one particular moment, the first moment that would be the starting point of the “mistake journey “- I wouldn’t know then of course. And then think – “How cool it would be if I, the time lord, could go back in time, talk to the then me and stop the whole mistake journey. Go back at that exact moment, have a good look at my startled face and try and have the talk, and stop myself.”

Then I wonder, even after being a time lord and going back in time, “Would the past me listen to my future self? Would I really be able to stop myself from taking the step? Would I know what the past me is thinking at that moment?”

Slowly, another tiny thought creeps in – “Am I obsessed with being a time lord? Am I thinking too much about Doctor Who?!” In between my stomach will want to give its two cent worth of opinion and declare it is hungry with a slow rumble.

Something seems wrong with my eyelids. I am faintly aware of it. It feels heavy and itchy. The green stars and moon seem like they are losing its glow.

Before I know it, its a brand new day! All the late night thoughts are forgotten and buried, just like my dreams. Like it never ever happened.


Finding Buddha

This is one of those unrealistic dream of mine. Or maybe it is just a wish born out of current obsession. This is it: Right now, I would give away my world just to hear how Buddha would have sounded like.

How would he look at me when I asked all these questions: What inside him snapped that made him think of all the ideas that he shared with the world? How did he really work on his detachment? One cannot just snap it all, right?

And if he agrees to answer me all that and the rest of my questions, I wonder how he would talk – his tone, his pitch, his expressions.

Would he argue with me wherever there is conflict in our ideas? Would he try reason with me? I wonder if he will do all this with a constant smile on his lips.

Right now, it feels like all the answers to my confusions lies in his voice. Listening to his thoughts and ideas in his own voice. Looking at his serene half closed eyes as he answers it all.

If, hypothetically, it actually happens, I think I would be blank and have nothing to ask him. I think my mind would be clear and empty to absorb whatever he would have to say. There will be peace in whatever voice he would possess.

I cannot even imagine a voice that would sound like him in my head where he is as alive and breathing like me right now.

Maybe, one day I’ll really find Buddha.

A girl can always dream. 🙂

High Expectations

I am already here, and yet I feel I’m nowhere.

Today, I missed an old friend who I once loved.  Now a long lost friend: Changed beyond recognition.

Bathroom thought:
Some people do great things, others just give up.

Beauty about words: You can interpret them in anyway you want in the absence of tone. There are as many possibilities as you like. Power of words, silence and choice
I like the word power.

When I stood still

What is real, seemed unreal. Probably, I couldn’t grasp the moment that was then. Everything simply passed by my eyes and I questioned the moment, “Is this really it? Am I here now, breathing in this moment?”

And the mind wandered…

There is always a void within. I thought, I found one of the missing pieces. I tried putting it in a place and I was disappointed. Then I heard: disappointment is better than having nothing. At least I won’t be left standing wondering “what could have been?” before deserting a feeling. At times, keeping the image of a person as a memory is lot better than discovering what the person is and immortalizing the harsh reality.

And now, I know, there’s a long long way to go.
He was a beautiful human being, who didn’t know what’s going around him.

Random Mumbles


The best thing about photography is, even if you have great memory, looking at a picture will flood millions of emotions. Even though it is too much for me to handle feelings, looking at my candid shots always makes me welcome them and smile.

Like this little girl here. I remembered everything about her when I started working with this year old picture.
She was a daddy’s girl. I assumed he was her dad. She was be playful, calm and happy whenever she was in his arms, and like a tornado if anyone else touched her. Had met her in Lalbaugh, flower show 2010. And I couldn’t help following her around for a while. Cutest smile!
Every girl’s dream:
1. Paint her nails blue.
2. Sport a messy hairdo.
3. Get referred as a dude, and literally.
4. Try and get callouses on her fingers.
I Am Free!

This will be my all time favorite amateur shot of mine. This will always remind me of how we were when we were kids:

Unbound, innocent and free. Carefree nature. And this, makes me feel that. I had written a short poem called Unbounded, which now when I think of it, fits this picture perfectly.
I had thought, and was made believe that this is a phase, that poem of mine. But now when I think of it, it is was not a phase. It was what I wanted. And it is how exactly I am existing right now.
Being a cynic is ok. But being cynic to the extent of destroying everything within yourself and others, I suggest please shoot yourself.
Fine, destroy whatever you want within yourself, but let others be. Just because you are depressed and dead inside, doesn’t mean you’ll make others believe they are too.
And yes, all this blabber talk comes out something. Make me believe that I do not want to belive this. Make me feel that, this is not what I’m feeling. I stupidly nodding to everything, like a person with no spine. And then morphing to be all that to be your pretty wife. And that is what is exactly called as being bounded.
Kids are beautiful. Remind us of so many things which eventually even they will forget as they grow up. Like that kid. And sometimes it is really amazing that, how you can actually feel what the other is feeling, if intensly. Like it is infectious.
The most frustratingly exhausting feeling is feeling empty. I find it weird to call empty as a feeling. Feeling nothing is a feeling. WTF.
The most irritating feeling is wanting something badly but failing to understand what that something is.
And suggestion I get to clear my head, “Go poop.” For better understanding.
Funny my dear Dove, but WTF!

I really have awesome set of close friends.

Best feeling ever?
Craving for cheese pizza at midnight, or anything with cheese. Why? Because I’m hungry!
Get up next morning. And guess what’s for breakfast?
Cheese sandwich. 😀
Yea, I made it happen. Made it myself.
Mom’s not gonna like it. 😀 😀
And then, after I started ignoring my craving, I suddenly remembered my pen pals. One was from states. Other had moved from Britain to SA, Kenya. The one in Kenya apparently resembled to Daniel Radcliffe. And the one in states, she had 13 siblings! Ignoring that, they really were very interesting people. Whatever made me delete the contacts. Kenya friend was on my FB list. Then again, what made me delete that contact again…
Hmm. Lets see:
I was 17. (Surprised that it lasted from when I was 12 to say about 15!!)
He was too British for me (?!?) But definitely very very interesting person.
Back then, I simply wanted to know how different they are. And to my surprise, they were full of feelings and emotions! Great sense of humor. Friendship was a big deal to them. Friends were someone they could talk to. And being in a different country, it was easier for them to share their lives. Or probably those two were like that. As we say, the growing teen age phase. Who knows, might have turned up like me. 😛
Yes, I do remember their names. Aden and Catylin. If they do remember me, and if something happens in this small world and we miraculously find each other again, I would really like to know how they are doing. Because, in the end back then I was like them too.