.a written note.

Tonight is one of those nights, one of those times when I meet a side of myself that I am habituated to keep hiding, sometimes even from myself. One of those nights when I simply know, when I have a feeling that it's going to be a sleepless night. Sleepless in a real sense. So much that an unknown energy comes in me and drags me out of bed, makes me write. It is as if I am getting wrapped by the curtains of solitude in a dark spacious hall. A hall only to let enter some wild winds through its large glass windows, wide open, but somehow I do not hear anything apart from the scary mysterious noise of the winds from the world outside. It is either that the town is already asleep or there is nothing worth listening to, at all. The thin layers of solitude, without the colour grey or black, surround me one after the other, making themselves feel thin and light but uncontrollable still. This is one of those times when I am able to think of this darkness around me as some rare shad...

I am moving forward and there are always going to be turns trying to confuse and stop me from where I want to reach. Behind everything to lose and to let go of, the Sun shines. It is the mind that wanders and wanders with a combination of colours making the day feel chaotic. I do not understand these colours for I never really met them. With a bell creating noise all over the verandas, we would play a game of Jolly. We would draw a mark on our palms before we reached school in order not to get a punch on our back. That was the rule. Marking our palms, punching and getting punched by the people we thought were the closest of friends, if left empty. A punch we called fun. A mark they called black. Perhaps the heart is in search of that punch. Over again. In search of the truth, these naked eyes. Knowing the reason why I am here, surrounded by the breeze treating my cheeks in its own way, I want to reach the place I see with or without my eyes open. And let it kill me later.

It's a Monsoon cold night and I have the main door and a window open as the clock meets midnight. Having wrapped in blankets and an old Red sweater, I have my pet sleeping next to bed, as calmly as ever. I don't mind spending the rest of these cold hours looking at him sleeping so peacefully. He knows I'll be there. I know he always is. I guess this is what I'd call contentment. I guess I am, now, contented. I see books in front, but I restrict myself from reading because I cannot allow myself of the involvement if I have something else in mind too. Nights here are getting colder, darkening the thoughts that lately live in mind. Early mornings are always pleasant but perhaps I have got nothing in my pocket yet. Just yet. Forgive me, I can't write more.

As I be with A, the sound of his laughter over the silly things I say and the way he speaks makes us think of things like we have kept a rear-view mirror in front of our eyes. As we sit on the floor, talking endlessly, I remember I'm doing this after what it feels like ages. The tiny little houses we see from here form an association with the things we talk about and I realize what I needed to. The usual food we make suddenly tastes better because we know we're together. This too will pass. The oldness will cover up the time that we choose to share today. But the words will echo, making too many spaces in my life that I have emptied feel grassy again. The walls inside me have absorbed the sounds and the scent of this time just so life may fade it but it'll never go away. Sometimes the walls seem to have imaginary hands that do not let me get back, and I'm pretty sure those walls aren't always called home. The desire to peek at the places I see from the same mir...

Sitting here, I wonder if it's about seeing in the mirror and liking what I see. 'Your eyes speak', they say. With every look of myself I get everytime I see, they, my eyes, seem to want to confront me. With all my honesty, I say, I run away from them. I try to. But the next time, everytime, it's a sensation of their coming toward me more hurriedly. They must be knowing the truth behind all the lies under the Sun I may have happened to tell myself in order to keep going. It's what I am used to do. To keep going, not knowing how far but far still. I am not used to the comfort there is in stopping for a moment or two. The comfort doesn't comfort me enough, although the view of it I get is inviting and tempting. I do not like the idea of walking the carpet that could take me somewhere I may be told I could dream. It doesn't completely satisfy me, being somewhere for a long time where there is everything I like. Going somewhere for a while where they may ...

Its like a glass half filled with satisfaction. Despite the feeling of loss I'm reminded by the smallest, sometimes nonexistent of things, of the path I no longer walk. The pebbles along the way must have stuck where I'd last seen 'em for they're still there, blurry, but visible despite my standing on the edge here, very much away. Time flies, they say. It should've had taken us, the slaves of it along as it flew. But we are, somehow, still where we'd been. Still there enough to pretend the time is our companion and that we'd never do it injustice. Of cheating it and ourselves. This is now a new path I walk. Getting used to it will soon make it old. I'll again step out of the way. And I'll continue looking back at the pebbles I believe I own at this moment. I look in the mirror more often lately. And I like what I see. I'm growing up. The clothes I wear have a different scent than before. In fact, they do  have a scent over them. I open the ...

I wake up as I feel vibrations and the alarm I'd set last night. I am alone here. It awakens and freshens me up within first two seconds. Its 2AM and its only been three hours of sleep but when I step on the floor, I don't feel I'm compromising anything. I drink a glass of chilled water and I know I want to make this last until the Sun rises. I get my things together and sit down on the floor. Without any mattress. I look at these four walls and I am now reminded of the same mood I used to be in over here a couple of years ago. Of books. And knowledge. The walls that seem nothing more than just walls now, would feel like my companions back then. With this pleasingly idle, breezy midnight and one of the best sounds of winds and leaves of the Palm tree together, I have the whole house to myself. As the sweat starts fading away, I again know I want to make this last until the morning. And I know it is going to be like this every night from now on. Its time. I've known. ...

Maybe this is because life currently has become steadily non-happening and so I walk in circles these days, without coming to a halt. I find myself sleeping for more hours than I usually do and probably need. I must be going to sleep feeling longing for something or nothing at all for I feel even number when I wake up. I have things to do but I've kept most of them away for a while. I have friends to meet but I don't go out lately. When I do, its with my cousin brother. The fresh street and head lights add a specific feel to the pretty, happy and busy faces I see on my way and I am just shown another side of my mood that doesn't last long; a feeling as I reach home, knowing I'll again be the same person enjoying solitude. The time spent playing old games with the ones I have blood relations with put me at ease somehow and I suddenly miss my family. My own people. They're there in front of me but I end up missing them more than ever. I remember how I was brough...

Its Summer, but though irregularly enough, its been raining since last week. Its cold outside and inside, its more like a storm that I can't figure if feels cold, deadly cold or hot. Its a feeling that sleep won't come to me tonight. If anyone asks me what I want to do, I'd say I want to shut the door, remove the curtains and open the window. I want to turn the lights off and light a candle beside the window and stare at it until my eyes close. And suddenly I am woken up out of these thoughts by the shouts and cries I hear in my neighbourhood. Its strange how I've never failed physically though I feel like a storm emotionally. I get up, walk up to the balcony and I now regret coming here. The cries are so unbearable to ears that I can almost have an idea of how it must be paining the lady shouting a block next to where I live. I can hear people trying to stop her doing all that publicly but I can see them failing. I believe she's alive. I believe she's s...

I step outside barefoot this breezy early morning and when the breeze runs over me like some waterfall does over those stones washing away their roughness, all that covered me until now goes away somehow. Its a rainy smell. Cold and purely cold. I smell it and just as the cold floor kisses my feet, I wish to keep walking. To keep walking down the streets. Through the lanes. By the Palm trees seeming to be reaching higher and higher every time I see. The usual Blue sky covering itself with the shades of Grey that appears to me as one of the few mesmerizing things and that I secretly love, meet a shade of light lavender only to strike a chord of realization somewhere in me. Echoing that this is what it   stands for. Revolution. That this is the moment I was meant to witness after everything I stepped out of and before anything I may sneak into. The moon looks at its best showing off itself among the clear lavender sky that makes it look brightest like never before and say...