Note (noun+verb).

At the risk of making my blog look solely like a photo gallery, I bring to you Bombay by night. Truth is, this city is so overwhelming that I can't help but click away (much to my sister's dismay, who thinks I'm being rather 'touristy'). I will soon get back to the pen/keyboard (the trusted weapon) but until then....lump this!

India shining??? [outside Taj Palace, Mumbai.]


Street Corner Symphony

Hail Democracy!

Light my fire...

'Aamchi Mumbai'...welcome to India
How art thou?

View from the top...

Mumbai!!!

This is the first of a series.
Welcome to the city of blinding lights.

Gaarded Optimism

Testing the limits of postivity,
Me and I,
We collide.
Blend,Separate,Accept,
In confounding angest,
I dread...

You beneath the skin,
Eternal, Temporal,
You in the mirror!
Yea sensual monk,
We despair, we cling,
Faithful to the worst.

Free I am,
Was I ever?
Desire I,
Fear I,
Am I free?
Fight I for it,
Die I do.
Assasinated ingeniously,
By me;

[Condemned to freedom eternally...]

Almost

"Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end..."
-an excerpt from 'the End' by The Doors.

This, a photograph I took two days back, is 'pessimism'...so much to a half glass full!

Paint

“Is it a bird?”

“Is it a biplane?”

“No I think that’s Superman,
And he wears a white cape.”

“That is an illusion and nothing else,”
Said the wise man who always knew best,
“Look at the fine brushstrokes,
The artistic inner eye.
His kaleidoscopic vision,
Of wrath, lust and lies.”

“Lust? That is thought crime!
I must in deed report this man.
The Party demands it;
And he wears a white cape!
Comrade Lenin will turn in his grave!”

“You blind fool, its art,
Appreciate it.
Prick not your conscience
A masterpiece condemned,
To be erased forever,
From time and memory?

“Conscience? Am I conscious comrade?
Orthodoxy demands I do what He says.
In our world, the only world,
There is no room for this…superman.
Everyone is super, just as nobody is.
We are all uniformly happy,
Uniformly sad.
We serve our nation,
There’s no greater joy to be had.”

“Man, you bleat like a goat.
You do however leave me confused.
This He you refer to,
This Big B of yours,
Is he not your superman?”

“Now comrade, I thought you were wise.
You ask silly questions though.
Lost in capitalistic and selfish thought,
You fail to appreciate what he does.
We as a nation divide our work,
Some think, some toil, some do.
Big B doubleplusthinks,
For the greater good of us all.
Its tough work, it requires reward.”

“So if He does all the thinking,
Do you not think?
You blindly believe the ‘truth’?”

“I do not question,
Where’s the need?
I wouldn’t, I couldn’t think!
The truth is the truth,
Where lies the problem?
Do you people manipulate that too?”

And thus they debated,
Through night and through day,
The commie and the bourgeoisie.
They reached no conclusion,
But the artist found it most amusing,
For the painting was in fact,
Meaningless.

Travis Barker - Snare Drum Solo

snaring you away...

Out of Order

The present...
Lying low...
Starin up at a painted ceiling...
Wondering how i ended up this way.
The phone rings...its for Mother Dairy,
This wired device can be quite a pain!

The future?
I'll probably go to bed in an hour,
And wake up tomorrow feeling quite the same.
Cereal for breakfast,maybe a glass of OJ,
And the same ol' Q&As i will dwell upon again.

The inevitable past...
A few pleasant memories,
My hippo-campus may treasure.
But the rest i wish,
Were long dead and gone.
Yesterday's ghost still haunts my mind,
Just maybe....i could turn back time?