Thursday, June 26, 2008


Come along, take a walk with me
a walk down a trodden lane
this walk may give me the answers
this walk may break the chain

I dare not take this walk alone
I dare not, lest I get scared
I've never taken walks alone
I've never ever dared

I know I've been there before
coz it’s all coming back
I can see the pandemonium
like darkness through a crack

Help me with these first steps
The trip ahead is long
Talk me thru these first steps
or maybe... sing me a song

What do you see round the corner?
coz I think I see light
Just can’t wait to get there
It’s been a really long night

I'm feeling a lot better now
I'm glad I took this walk
Thanks for all your songs
and thanks for all the talk

You've been there through the dark
Now stay with me while it’s bright
Then I'd know your not leaving
coz then it'd never be night..

Now that we've reached this place
Please… don’t let go of me
Coz I've walked right into your heart
Right where I want to be..

Friday, June 20, 2008


I remember feeling restless in class. Looking at my watch every other second, cursing at the hands that told me there was still time.

I would run the instant the bell rang. Smelling the air of freedom at last, running to catch the first bus I could. The conductor never liked me, or any other kid who used student concessions, but I dint care. The hate was mutual. I’d jump down the bus, run home, throw my bag and run to the place I loved. The lush green ground that spread far and wide, the dark brown pitch in the center, the guys sitting on the neighboring fence (this was the fence to my house by the mom never appreciated this...I could never understand what the fuss was about)...

I would be tensed as to whether I’d get a chance to play. The first twenty two lucky ones could play. I remember not being that good, cutting any chances of reservation in the team. The joy if I got to play, the dejection if I didn’t. Emotion in either case was strong for the 14 year old in me. The little kid who was tired of the bag of books that was just a little less heavy than him, the prick who loathed special classes (and normal classes for that matter) , the clean bath's, the homework and everything his mom thought was good for him.

Today I miss the nasty prick. I wish I cud meet him again. Maybe I could find him in the kids who have taken over.

I was back home after 5 years of college. I had my evening tea and walked out, seeing if I fall upon anything interesting to pass time. I walk through the ground once again. This time, there was not a soul in sight.

Where were the kids?

I saw them in the end.

I was wrong about finding myself in them after all. There they were, fiddling with their fancy gadgets; hi end mobile phones and mp3 players, all the joys of the world in the palm of their hands.

What went wrong? What changed them?

They do not know the joys hidden in the heavenly green ground that is waiting for their running feet …or they just choose to ignore.

What ever the reason, I pray for them, I pray for their lost innocence. I pray for us.

Most of all… I pray for the little boy in me....the boy who wants to play.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


Why do we use spaces on the World Wide Web to unleash our thoughts? Why do we shed all our inhibitions here? The good in us, the bad in us, the never ending nothingness that covers the best years of our lives. It’s all dumped here...on the black, green and blue pages we call blogs.

Why do we prefer these spaces to people?

I say it’s because it’s too damn easy...

The complexity we've gotten ourselves into...the world we've made for us...the fake plastic faces we've mastered...the immensely talented actors in us...we are the architects of our world where we seem to think we care. But do we? We do not mind the tear drops that finds its way onto the l's m's and o's of the keyboard. But even one drop gets heavy when it comes in vicinity of people. People who supposedly understand....we still think we do...we know the truth. We all do. Yet we do not stop. Ultimately we realize it. Then we turn to these blank spaces.

These spaces do not understand us. These spaces do not care...but at least these spaces listen.

We write...with the faint hope that maybe we'll find the understanding that we crave for...after all...these spaces are common to people. People we are scared of. May these spaces bridge the distance between us...and leave no spaces. Amen.

And thus I am turning to the World Wide Web with my trash...because I’m no different...we are all the same…