Tuesday, February 26


have you seen a smoker with lips as pink as these?

an older picture....

no direction home

I was cleaning my comp and come across half a .doc autosaved from at home in Malabar Hill. So I just quickly decided to post it. Another pathetic post.

I am sitting at home at it’s echo point and the feeling sinks in that I wont be here any longer. Soon I’ll be in a new house, trying again to love it. My ciba home has been demolished. The forests, it’s fairies, the akaks in my balconies, the possibility of leopards at twilight when they managed to flee from the national park, the children the get-togethers the grass, the big eagle I was mortified of, the secret rose garden and out-of-bounds animal testing centres that ma knew I’d been prowling around because of the smell it left behind, lotus ponds I put my hand into that killed ma in fear that there’d be snakes, running away screaming from that big snake under the jamun tree, playing wall-tennis before everyone came down to play, discovering menstruation, obsessive infatuations, poison trees, collecting cotton, finding out that stuffing stolen roses in our shirts wont dupe watchmen, watching film city/malad junction from third gate, cycling evenings, up the road that’s now some highway or flyover near what is called mohan gokhale rd.,
Shkl said, go get your closure before it’s late. So touched the walls of my empty house, thinking of all the associations and the moments I’d had, the fights and loves and discoveries and relationships. And then, I switched off all the lights and sat down at the
of my first girlhood kiss. Where I learnt that someone can love, clean like a monk. Where I learnt that relationships are inherently simple, if you have the heart to be honest.
And went off the sleep between my parents. Tomorrow morning , I will wake up late, get into beige cream clothes, go to a temple and leave the house without too much mulling.

I’m in my new home now. Doesn’t feel so new. Adjustments made. I like it sometimes.The pool's nearby. I don't have to spend an hour getting to bombay gym for a half hour swim with snoots. Just that when I’m in town, I have the tendency to get into a 122 or a 108.

Tuesday, February 12


i saw you flailing in the wind.
white like the roach that once came out of my basin.

je t'aime, moi non plus.

iwanu ga hana. not speaking is the flower.