November once more

I wonder what he thinks about when he is sitting at the airport waiting to board a much delayed flight to somewhere …. I don’t think he thinks about me at all … and how do I know that? Because he’s been traveling a lot and my phone lies still… covered in dust behind the unruly mop of dried roses …. Where there was a heartbeat now the pulse murmurs in a steady beat just enuff to take in the April sun and wish it was November once more


Rooftop by the stars


If it ever does go down I’d like to call them zulay and carmen and juno. I have so much vested in fate and a lil bit of that in me too…. Coz I’d like to believe that everyone deserves a fairy tale of their very own. Mine I’d like to call it the rooftop by the stars

Sunsets coffee & donuts

Watching the moon cruise along on a late windy evening
My balcony a freshly brewed pot of tea
The still of the morning fresh
Running bare feet in the rain
Squeezing lil old ladies
Smiling at the guy seated across a table to the north east
Lil baby holding onto my finger with a determined grasp
Finding an inane t shirt and wondering what Ralph will make of it
Being hugged like a tomorrow won’t be coming anytime soon
Catching a reflection of myself in the water
Finding a picture of you now forgotten but never forgiven
Sunflowers coffee n donuts



Set you free and wait no more but hope? what does one do with that? One dims the light and focuses on the butterflies …. The flight of a white dove ….. Divinity in countless nameless stars and the sweet smell of frangipani …. And yet it’s back again knocking on the door …. Hope and all it’s cousins wanting a cup of tea… English breakfast I should hope so?

Broken jug


Dappled sunshine a park bench a semi broken heart that still ticks at every odd tock the makings of a smile wind blown hair streaked gold by a fierce summer sun now retreated somewhere a broken jug with the last of the daisies an upturned book it’s pages much thumbed a snooty teapot now in a sulk and eyes that bear remembrance of not so long agos


Spanish bulls …. well traversed lanes ….. plenty of sunshine and sunflowers …. The early beginnings of a spiritual journey and the eternal quest of if not here then where and when …

Saturday afternoons

Lil puffs of clouds dotted with fiery chillies …. Lunch time on Saturday afternoons is as the mood takes me. I spent an additional hour making sambhar just the right way …. They turned out to be delicious and am actually left pondering if my cafe shop should perhaps dish out idlis as well …. Ah the dilemmas that accost me leave me hungry all over again

Chase me free

Slow Saturdays the kind you can frame in polak light. …. Breathtaking in sheer mundane oblivion…. The insistent desire to go out in the sun with the blaze catching whispered smiles and silly what nots …. Background score of sawariya breathing heavy and the slow spiral of a long forgotten incense stick ….. Makes you want to hold onto it …… Chase me chase me I live to be free