Skip to main content

Untitled..

I cant create mystical creatures that enthrall audiences.
I cant sing epoch making stories of hapless lovers.
I haven’t yet designed a new funky car.
Heck, I cant even paint my bloody wall.

Why is it that I want the very things I cant have?
Why is it that I always want to be where I cant?
Why do I always want more?
Why am I always dreaming of better?

Don’t try to console me.
Don’t try to show me others are worse off.
Because my pain is my very own, mine alone.
You cant make it go away.
But you can make it better.

So just tell me what I must do.
And tell me all I need to hear.
Tell me that I’m not alone,
That in loneliness we are all together

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Behind the Sightscreen (Part 2)

It was my greatest fear that the stadium lights would go out – plunging the ground into darkness and basically broadcasting this (power) failure to the entire world. I can now safely say that this did not happen. Unfortunately, everything else did. Among the many bombs that had been casually tossed around the South-East basement offices, the first that exploded was the one where a last minute ‘request’ was made to provide baggage handlers to carry the players’ luggage. Seeing the stretch on manpower, my tomboyish, feminist colleague immediately offered to lend a hand. I, failing to come up with a quick excuse, found myself accompanying her in stumbling around under the weight of the heavy kit bags – the sizes of which were comparable only to the size of the heads of their owners. Now I am not one to shy away from attention, but the sudden deluge of comments and flashes from cameras disconcerted even me. I looked out from under the bag to see shocked faces all around me. Some of th...
6 comments
Read more

Indias

  There is not just one India. And what I have been privileged to experience on my recent travels, there won’t be for a long time. What is it that we do every day in cities? We wake up to an alarm, not the sun or our body clock. We rush to get dressed for work or the gym or whatever is the first appointment of the day. We spend our day in a controlled, man-made environment – air conditioning, phone screens, buildings, traffic, emails and meetings. Two weeks away from this showed me something that I never truly knew about myself. I don’t dislike travel. Everyone is so gung-ho about travel and I always found it overrated. But that might be because for the 10 years I lived in Germany, travel for me meant visiting the city centre of another European city. Cute streets, a pretty church, a peaceful river flowing by, in essence a little “same same but different”. Without a car or a driving licence, those were the only trips I managed to plan. Of everything that I saw in two weeks of...
5 comments
Read more

Bitten by the Biye Bug

A Biye really brings out the Bangali in me. Someone who generally doesn’t spare a second look for sweets, and is ostracized from the community due to my lack of ability to not sound like a dying hyena when I sing, it’s difficult to find a common topic of interest when I bump into fellow Bongs. But there’s nothing like a Biye to bridge all those barriers. Because a Bangali Biye is all about 2 of my favourite things – food and presents! The eating traditionally begins with “Aiyibudobhath”. Or as it’s called in Marathi, “Kelwan”, with extra emphasis on the ‘l’ and ‘n’. This is where your close friends and family invite the bride/groom (along with their families =D) over for a meal. The parents of the bride/groom, also host one, and their favourite food is cooked! Luckily, the brother’s fave food is my fave – namely Mangsher jhol – bhath. Since it is impossible for me to describe how incredibly delicious it is, this is how it looks. For those of you who would like to make it – please fo...
Post a Comment
Read more