Daybreak.

Thats what I'll be seeing anyway. Since I've to stay up all night.

But, its also a Snow Patrol song. Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE Snow Patrol.
No?
Strange.
Well. I LOVE them. L.O.V.E.
They're perfect. Like their song daybreak. So right and so wrong too.

"Something was bound to go right sometime today, All these broken pictures fit together to make the perfect picture of us".

Even the worst days, end with something good.
Like somethings that get solved. And somethings that make you feel better.
And sometimes its just the reassurances that work.
Whatever it is, cheesy as it sounds, its true, there is a silver lining in every storm cloud.
There always is. You just need to look for it.

Sometimes we're so busy looking at the storm cloud, we overlook the lining.
So open your eyes.
Stop looking at the broken pieces, it's pointless.
Look at how they fit together.
Life suddenly becomes meaningful.
Try it. :)

Break.

I NEED a break.
So this moot is driving me crazy. So much. So little time.
But thats how it always is na?
Its okay though.
Its the feeling you get once you've finished thats worth it.
According to a friend of mine, he loves it for the loss of control.
You cannot control what happens when you moot.
I don't like not being in control.
What I do like i the feeling you get once you hit the nail on its head.
Once you find yourself an argument that you know will work.
The feeling.
The pure joy, the euphoria.
Thats what I'm in this for.

And with that, my break ends.
Back to my pursuit of happiness. :)

[I decided not to give it a title]

So I'd originally written this for the Law School Lit Mag. Submitted it. Lets see how it goes. *Fingers crossed*


In fields of gold
Under the burning sun
We let our spirits soar
And we grew old
We grew as one
Walked out childhood’s door
And sitting by the firelight
Way past our prime, far beyond
Gnarled and old and spent
The voices in my head they went
These boots are meant for walking
For playing they are not.

Across the lands
So fair and free
Whose rivers fill with blood
We walk in bands
In files of three
Our feet feel like wood
The children dead, their mothers weep
Their homes burnt, still burning
Chaos, wrought thus we
And in my head, they say to me
These boots are meant for walking
For fighting they are not.

In secret nooks
Whispered goodbyes
Hurried glances full of stealth
Poems scribbled in old books
As time flies by
Return to haunt us both
Forbidden love, so sweet its taste
So dangerous, So cruel, So vile
Letting you live, yet leaving you dead
The voices, they said, inside my head
These boots are meant for walking
For loving they are not

And time flew by
Till everything turned cold
Seasons changed, years grew on
The lakes, the rivers, the sky
Stayed as old
The frogs continued to spawn
I did but walk all my life
Away from all I ever wished
Till the fire of my heart was stilled
Then the secret, the voices, they spilled
These boots are meant for walking
Yet for walking they are not.

I LOVE Old Hindi Songs.

So I've been listening to Hindi songs all day. The really old ones. The ones that make you go 'Oh my FUCKING God', I heard these songs when I was a baccha. And they're lovely. You can imagine them. In your head. Its like there's this grainy reel playing in your head, and you can see yoursself, etc. etc.

I LOVE Old hindi songs. They have that sense of poetry in them that today's gaana's lack. They're so lyrical. And so beautiful. And so cute some of them are.

I love old hindi movies too. But I can't really get my hands on those.

So I stick to the songs.
And they're the perfect accompaniment for while working. They don't demand you to pay attention to them. They're there in your subconscious playing. And the tune remains in your head, way after you've shut your laptop, and are nicely on your way to a dreamless sleep [At least thats the case with me!]

So. I'm off. To listen to my purane Hindi gaane.

Till then,

Babuji Dheere Chalna,
Pyaar Mein Zara Sambhalna,
Bade Dhoke Hain Is Rah Mein.

Catching Falling Stars- 5 to be precise.

Its that time of the year again.

What time?

Why Meteor Shower time of course!

I sat for my second meteor shower in Law School. Last time, it was with a very good friend, a senior, and we had this long conversation about law school and life.

Tonight, I sat with another good friend.
But we had no profound discussions.
We didn't talk about Law School.
We didn't talk about Life.

We listened to music.
And we looked for shooting stars.
And we looked for shapes in the clouds.

Last year, that conversation on the terrace made me finally feel like part of something.
Tonight's conversation, it made me feel like I was part of Law School in a different sense.
Not the sense of just becoming part of something,
but the feeling of being part of something.

I'm beginning to find my place here. And its not the place that does it.
Its the people.

Sometimes the most meaningful conversation are full of silence.

Shadows Across The Sun

Dull.
It darkens.
Gloomy. Dreary.
The trees become,
Foreboding monsters.
Their hands reaching out,
To catch me.
Leaves, scuttling around like crabs,
Like memories.
Long forgotten,
Ever remembered.
Sit on the bench,
Chilled to the bone.
The wind whispering,
Its darks secrets in
My ears.
Hair whipping across,
My face, stung with cold.
Dull.
Dreary.
Like shadows across the sun.


Bright.
It brightens.
Sunny. Hopeful.
The sky beams,
The trees quiet.
Their ominous countenance,
Stilled by a single ray
Of sunlight.
The breeze lifts me,
Plays with me
Dances
With tendrils of hair.
Whispering, congratulating.
‘You’re alive’ they say.
And I am. Truly am.
In every sense. I am.
They touch my sense.
And I exist.


And it darkens yet again.
This flighty world.
All because of the
Shadows across the sun.

Blood. Shot.

The silence deafening, still, I can sense the noise. The world moves, in tandem with my pulse. I can feel it. I can feel every thud of blood against the thin walls of my vein. I can feel it, the earth moving beneath my feet. I can see the stars too, in their dance with the clouds, ever so coy. And I can see the street lights. Harsh, yet oh so soothing. I stagger to my feet. Aware of every millisecond that it takes me to reach my equilibrium. Aware of the 'swoosh' inside my head. So minutely aware. Of. Every. Single. Thing.
The rush of the wind against my skin. Aware of the movement of every strand of hair. I feel myself becoming one with the elements. Stable as the earth, as ever-moving and restless as the wind. Every cell intense, like the fire. And as tranquil as the puddle in front of me.
The puddle.
I lean forward. Aware of the shift in my centre of gravity. So aware. So intensely aware. The world comes up to meet me, to cushion. The ground reassures me, its there for me, it will cushion my fall.
And I look at the puddle.
I see my eyes.
Blood. Shot.


The silence is deafening. I can hear my life flash past me. I look up, eyes wide, like a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car. And I see the sneer.
The sneer.
It rips into me. The disfigurement alien, yet so natural on that face. A face I could never get enough of.
I can feel myself falling. Feel the weight of every molecule of air bearing down upon me. Pushing me to the ground. I feed my resistance with thoughts to live.
I. Will. Live.
For a minute, I'm defying gravity. Rising again in eternal hope. But as they say, whats written is written. I fall.
Thud.
I can feel the impact in every cell.
I look up.
Through my blurred vision,
I see.
The tears that cloud those eyes.
The face is hazy around the edges.
But I can see the love.
The mask has been lifted.
Or is it one last act of kindness.
Assuaging the fears of a dying man.
I can feel the gaping hole in my chest.
Tearing at every fibre of my being.
Devouring material me.
Liberating. Fatal.
I look past my chin to the bullet.

Blood. Shot.


Its red. Oh so red.
I reach for the glass.
Its cool. So cool against my palm.
My fingers cradling its soft contours,
as one would a baby.
My baby.
Never questioning.
Never answering.
Always listening.
The bile rises in my throat.
I will it down.
It shall not ruin this.
My climax to the perfect movie.
So beautiful.
So truly beautiful.
I raise the glass to the light.
It shines. It sparkles.
I can see through it.
My world red.
I raise my head.
Throw it back in a split-second,
of abandonment.
Of pure happiness.
And I flick my wrist.
The fire trails my throat.
And for a minute,
I'm one with me.
And then it rises.
Uncontrollable.

Blood.
Shot.