I just reached after a hard day's work... and as I sit in my room... taking stock of my life... in a slow motion... suddenly the mood has changed... as if my most vulnerable self has popped up... trying to pull me into a quick-sandish gloominess. Several questions, several dreams lies in front... but I'm not ready yet to face all of those. Here I'm... many a miles away from my house in Assam... don't know where I would land up tomorrow. As if I'm going insane... but people will point fingers and tsk tsk me b'coz seemingly I've got everything going for myself which many middle class people in India dreams of attaining. A good job, good salary(?) , good career ahead... and maybe a H1 Visa is on its way too... but I'm sure something is missing... something which is minuscule... but quite pivotal to my attaining peace of mind. I am becoming mad perhaps... not that I was much sane before. It's one matter to believe that one's mad, but it's altogether another matter to let people realize that you are really mad. People who were once a part of my life's microcosm haunts me... and at that moment you feel like hurting yourself... gnawing your nails into the face and taking pleasure at the gore. Not knowing the question makes it really difficult to get the answers... and without answers my mind always remains helpless. The Man who knew too much--- and the boy who didn't want to grow up... caught between these two improbabilities mixed with my Capricornian appetite for melancholia has served a very inedible fare for supper... hitting my senses and clouding it like some shots of Vodka. Like Rip Van Winkle my mind is still there in those dusty childhood lanes and the heightened sense nostalgia invariably brings along with it. Why do we lose the things we love the most? Why things happen which doesn't have any valid reason to happen? Why? I try to clinch my fist.. often... sub-consciously trying to stop the flow of time and events. I don't talk much outwardly... to people around... but I talk to myself like an incorrigible wreck... about things which hovers on the insanity zone. Like JD Salinger's Catcher in the Rye... I've got my opinions but they don't make any sense. My alter-egos are clashing every other time... trying to be good, trying to be nasty, trying to be mad, trying to be sane... but I'm still wondering if it's possible to be both at the same time... a good-nasty guy or a sane-mad kinda fellow. I believe in God but I abhor the mere symbolisms associated alongwith it... which are divisive rather than inclusive... but even I know that God doesn't care what I think about him... which doesn't stops me from thinking the way I do...


Old photographs always fascinates me... the way things and people changes around us. My childhood photographs were once the ultimate reality, now they are just a constant reminder that time's fleeting... and those days are not going to come back... but my mind always brings back wonderful memories grabbed from those dusty pics. As if some unseen force has clicked the pause button of life and when I see the photos I get immediately transported to those memories... playing my part as a young kiddo whose definition of fun was having gooseberries stuffed in the half-pant's pocket to be savored with leisurely mirth with some sprinkling of salt!!

Like an artist... I would like to paint my life's canvas with myriad strokes... mirroring my thoughts... hues of black, blue, splash of yellow and green... and then at one go... I might tear the canvas apart and set in on fire... not caring a bit about my dreams or anything as such. And after all the heartburn and tears... nerve wrecking moment it's sure to be... I will start afresh... the brush trembling in my hands... ruffled hair... disheveled looks... akin to a broken soul... trying to get up and fly... the blank canvas in pure white... will feel the caress of my strokes... color being crimson oozing out of my heart!!