Tea For Kismet

kismet:

❤❤❤my kind of tea party….beautiful pictures by the Shah of Blah!!

Originally posted on rajivchopra:

At The Chai Stall

At The Chai Stall

This post is dedicated to a young lady who goes by the name, and blog name, of Kismet. She does write some really cool poetry…

Anyway, she had asked me to take some photos of tea, chai stalls. I now have a collection, and will put them up on my Behance & 500 px things once I sort them out and clean them up.

So, young lady, have some chai!

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à la folie…

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octobers my favorite color, as is to swim in waters blue…more so in depths of grey
wrapped in delicious ambiguity of an ordinary life, with not so ordinary expectations
myriad highs and lows of feelings tenacious, but caught in their estranged
stronghold
cavorting smiles and fleeting glances, all lost in endless romances decadently
so
donuts, cafe, midnight flea markets, infusion of colors in scarves
gay
imaginary friends and a reel world, a canvas so vast, it holds all my madness at home

maybe.

it’s not goodbye, until we meet again

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i still remember the stories we wove together
like a patchwork quilt suffused with color
i still remember the peacock dance to the first rain
and a sun that refused to show
i still remember the crazed running through streets
trying to locate your favorite incense vendor
i still remember the church with a white steeple
the fervent prayers for this moment to linger
i still remember the bazaar with beads and flowers
the unhurried tea as you had my fortune read
i still remember the flame of the burning candle
and a chilled night in december
i still remember the fireflies we chased
as we walked for hours under a moonless gaze
i still remember the look on your face
when she came over to say hello

if iam to forget, then i must say my farewells
this part of the journey, i find on my own
if we meet someday, please, i want you to walk away
for my mind is full of memories that refuse to fade.

a tango in blue

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silly smiles on faces of children
gutsy winds and a sudden ballooning of skirts
rain on my face as i watch a darkening sky
the sudden lurch of a bus as it crosses a puddle nearby
watching the warmth of the day breathing a heartfelt sigh

your laugh spreads it’s own sunshine
even as you scramble to hold onto
the last vestiges of a dying day
one that came upon moodily and
recedes ever so reluctantly
fading into the evolving storm