Where do I hide?

Ah! The dull days devoid of death
Ah! The mute mumbles of masculinity
Ah! The floral fragrance of femininity
Oh Love! What smiles you feign!

Ah! The tremble of tough truth
Ah! The fumble of flustered fat
Ah! The chastity of charmed cheeks
Oh Love! What lies you sing!

Ah! The fickle face of friendship
Ah! The loss of lilting laughs
Ah! The shambles of shine and shame
Oh Love! What illusions you weave!

Ah! My mind! Master of mirages!
Ah! The veins with vicious voices
Ah! The echoes of empty eyes
Oh Love! Where do I turn when you hide?

Ah Friend! You smile, you smirk
At my empty eyes, dull days, charmless cheeks
Ah Friend! You choose to bury me
You blur away my shadows even,
I am a dull, unscrubbed cooking pot.

Ek Villain-A Movie Review

Ek Villain is not a good movie. That's the best thing I can say about it. All that I could see through the pretense of acting, story line, script, dialogue, animated peacocks and butterflies was the stereotype of women.
All the women who have any screen space at all in the movie, are well crafted, deep characters.
AWESOME WOMAN NUMBER 1: Shraddha Kapoor. I don't even remember her name in the movie. She is the bubbly, lively Bollywood heroine who breathes beauty and hope into the the dark, black life of our violent villain, Guru.
AWESOME WOMAN NUMBER 2: Riteish Deshmukh's wife, Sulo. This woman is happy with her husband only when he gifts her shit. The other times, when she's not getting gifts, she curses her fate that forced her marriage with such a loser and pushes him out of different places-an auto and their house.
AWESOME WOMAN NUMBER 3: The item girl.
The whole premise of the love story is full of crap. Shraddha Kapoor sees a jailed guy being whipped by the cops. Siddharth Malhotra doesn't even attempt to pull his face into a mild expression of discomfort. His "grunts of pain" come off looking like controlled snorts of laughter. After watching the prisoner being beaten up, our lovely, bright heroine immediately proceeds to stalk him. Then they fall in love. Nice. Smooth. There is something very attractive about killers and gangsters. Sigh! They're so hot!! OMG!!!
Then a whole load of crap follows, suddenly with an item number in the middle that really made no sense. Oh and what's Kamaal R Khan doing in Indian movies? He is by far the most irritating guy in the entire movie. And by irritating I mean that I wanted to do him everything that the Gang does to Frank in the episode A Very Sunny Christmas.

So, in conclusion, don't watch Ek Villain. At all. Ever. Run away from it. Run fast and Run far.

What is a city?

City life, City lights, City lies. Oh breathe in that air, that air that swirls around happy bodies, tingling with the mystery of freedom.
The freedom that comes with individuality brings with it stings of love and loss. A city allows the luxury of falling in love. It is not a luxury, but does the city let that secret away?

 The loss that its smoke forces free thought into, erases all memory of all that once seemed happy. Of all that once reminded the mind of colour. Of all the sounds that were once recognized as a song. The senses begin to perceive jarring noises-distant and disconnected, when did the low hums of cars screech into harsh hammers of hard thuds?

The colours become flashes of piercing light, that blind the eyes. The eyes cannot see in the dark.

Piercing light becomes the only day. The day is dull, the skies as grey as dull thought. The white day morphs into brownness. The eyes cannot understand the light of the sun-it does not seem to disappear. Just like the night.

What does it mean, really, to be surrounded by smoke, stench and stares? Does the city then offer individualism? Of what use, then, is the rainbow of cosmopolitanism? Words, words. No words turn the heads the other away. Eyes continue to trap shivering bodies into a rattling cage. Wordless fear. Wordless lust. Wordless rage. Words, words.
Turn away, but they won't. The languages do not understand the shapes that hang lazily in the sky.

Desperation forces the turn. What do the eyes see? Strangers, with a lie burning in the eyes. A lie that the mind does not comprehend, but perceives. A false identity. A false admission of the lie. A glaze of anonymity.
Holes of black mud tear at the muddy road. The feet dance in the lines drawn by a plan. What is the plan then? Where do the feet lead the wandering mind?

Where does the city lead to?

What are you searching for?

Stillness

I stand on the waves of moving water,
the mud drags past my skin, moving the ground beneath my feet.
The rocks have stayed still,
waiting for the water to return,
for the waves, gushing forward like a warm embrace.
The sea waits with outstretched arms, for the sun
to slowly sink into a deep sleep
Eyes strain towards the sky to watch the dance
of fire on water
The ice cream man watches the child struggle with
the slippery ice cream, it will fall into the sand,
and he will hover till then, the sea breeze pulling
holes into his dull shirt.
People will return, I think.
We will watch the darkness surround us, I think.
We will laugh over the faded colours of memories, I think.

The ice cream man hovers.

I have waited, they will return.

The ice cream man hovers.

I know they will not return. I wait, I stand still.

The ice cream man hovers.

Do I wait with him?

But now there is darkness, and I can no longer see him.

The openness seems closer now, the sand is slipping away.

I wait.