Monday, September 19, 2011


looped !
a man is travelling in a bus, finds a pair of dark shades kept on the opposite seat, he apprehensively wears it. every thing seems to move in reverse. the glasses show him his past.

Everything that has happened wrong in that day

The things he could have done, gets fixed in reverse (for eg a glass that fell off , gets joined itself in reverse)

The things he lost could get it back again

The things forgotten could be remembered again

maybe his watch

Wakes up suddenly

but his watch is still broken

Gets off the bus.

And pair of glasses kept on the seat.

looped, In this endless journey he obsessively keeps dwelling on his past

Dreaming about how every thing could have been right

only to wake up and realize that that time has passed.

i do think about breaking away
then its easier
to retire in the rut
in the security of mundaneness.


a slight tingling sensation
from the roots of my head
skin behind my ear
nape of my neck
as the raindrop kept slithering
further down
i thought
oh i cant get wet ,
i have office tommorow.

looking at the urban landscape:flyover

Humongous columns of cement stand naked in the mid of the road, one can only stand as an ant looking up admiring . They will soon support a flyover and the weight of hundreds of cars passing by. But construction takes time and soon they become part of the landscape, merging into mundane . and when that flyover too gets jammed, so another one comes over it .Traffic/busses/cars rush in a blur over my head, below my feet effortlessly. This is the aspiration of the urban bangalore. Obviously one cant expect to see beautiful trees growing over flyovers, but bmc has taken care of this by painting pillars with leaves, climbers. Seems our landscape is changing faster than our sense of aesthetics.As I walk down" I am overwhelmed by contrast, the hustle bustle , energy of a market that thrives just below the flyovers. It feels more comfortable to see people, posters,carts selling everything under the light of street lamps. A lemon with some mirchis hang from the top of the cart with the smoke of two agarbattis thrusted in a tomato. Eating the delicious chat I ponder again at the flyovers and cars passing above my head.

yeh unchi sadakein kahaan tak le jaati hain ?

flyover : miyan,chaand tak bhi chali jaayeingi armaan is sheher ke aise nazar aate hain.


experiment! this is not an experiment enough.