this is beginning of the end!











other side of grief



a false god that has no name
the pain which no longer stings
picture this: 22 hours, steam room and high on wine


desires... 
bleeding through boundaries
embracing shadows
entwined hearts

miles apart 
lips sealed, unknown magic
death beckons
death of me, as i know... 


dear diary

Life on this co-ordinates has never been divinely effortless, always navigating with the illusion of reference point from that elusive and proverbial lighthouse. Nothing lasts forever.

I will likely not remember these days full of ambiguity and ache. These days when showing up for each day becomes difficult. These days when stars seem that much out of reach, these days when not one thing seems to be going right.

And, yet being here is uncomfortable.

Having little one means showing up for parenting even when you are bone tired. It’s not Nirvaan's fault that I’m worried about money, or that we have reached a no-communication zone and are unable to say anything the other one understands, or that my pants are tight, or I miss my girlfriends. Because these days that are passing? These hours of bright sunlight and wintery evenings; these moments? This is his childhood.

Because it just is the way it is. Littleness demands patience and selflessness and satisfaction in small things.

I know they are not unique, these moments of stress and financial strain. It’s winter and I’m messed, with a mask of smile. I know these days will pass, and I will look back, suddenly much older than I am, with a heart full of longing for the sweet scent of my son’s head.

These times of three of us together. Its hard but we shall wade through and come out sun-soaked. And, in no time, we shall sit with our chai in our mugs and talk about this, we would all of have learnt something together, grown up together!

Thank You, Ma! Thank YOu, Chaamu!

...Copyright©nEErs

soul twin


My soul-twin is an impish dusky bipasha basu and kajol rolled into one girl by the name that literally means Wine!!
It was serendipity that we met when I was 5 and she was just a new-born and we connected immediately: she has a contagious laugh and a mischievous spirit that often bordered on gleeful nefariousness. She was always the wise one on the front with a hugely wicked side to her well concealed.
She dates young and elder, completely without apology, and from the get-go, we trusted each other with each other's most mortifying and sordid secrets - we were like teenage boys totally attuned to the debauchery of one another because we could see mirror images of ourselves in each other's eyes.
We wake up and laugh, or awaken and bury our heads. We wake up grinning, or we wake up feeling like shit. We wake up. This is a thing that we did together, daily for a total of 26 years.
Till I got married and missed to wish her birthday last year. This year, am trying to make amends when she is out having a blast with a bunch of admirers and friends!
She used hate the curfews I would try and put on her through her college and still has the gumption to dictate my hours!
She has always been there, through my fantastic steps and very very misguided ones. No judging, no questions. My barometer of fashion and fun. She finished her education of fragrance, books and those other lil good things of taste under me, though she disagrees.
She was the one who picked me from one of my worst times of my life, dusted me off and got me new shoes.
Mostly, we laughed together uncontrollably: innumerable scenes, zillions of moments, unable to breathe, convulsing with heaving laughter over a ridiculous scenario we'd concocted.
It is a thing we give each other, an act, an offering, a small choreography of solidarity between us—like the tremolo of a dancer’s fingers; or the way a leaf, caught in the lattice, always flutters with the wind.
At the age of 27! She is still like a teenager, one of those whom you envy in school... absolutely charming and smart! She is my mom’s pillar and perhaps the best aunt my son can wish for!
She is warm and beautiful and in her eyes is acceptance: she, maybe, knows me better than anyone else on the planet. She has seen every wart I've ever had, and still loves me. The value of that is indescribable
The moral of this rambling crap? I believe love can be prodded, created, fostered even in the midst of uncertainty. I do. And that, damn, also, I probably owe her a shot or two on her birthday, today!
Chaamuuuu, yeppy budde!

60 days of delight!

sleep deprivation and running schedule, ruckus for a house and am so much in love... i love to snuggle him, nurse him .... see him laughing with the angels in his sleep and call him names... coo gibberish in his ears, he cushions all the falls of the grown-up world!


CpRyt@NeerS