I was trapped between pages, crisp and white – the ink hadn’t even dried yet.
Between lines- handwritten with loops and curls made with love and care.
Between words – big and small that held so much more than meanings in the dictionaries.
And finally I got lost amidst punctuations – deep, dark and complicated, which almost burst through into the next page.
This was what life had come to. Would it be a full-stop or just an ellipsis? Was it the beginning of “The Ends” or was it just another “To be continued. . .”
The ink stains had started wearing off. The pages began turning frail and yellow.
Overcome the commas and don’t limit yourself within parentheses’. Exclaim with joy, find happiness wherever possible. Do not be afraid of questioning things. Don’ let the semicolons delay your journey to success and turn the period into the ellipsis which will guide your way.
Turn the page!
Start a new Chapter!
If there’s one thing I could spend eternity doing it is this! It is an absolute pleasure for me to roam around in book stores, aimlessly, looking at books, sometimes smelling them. I have obviously lost count of the number of book stores and libraries that I have been to but I remember where and when I bought each book that I possess. After all every book is like a baby.
Let me tell you, not all book store are the same. You can judge a book store solely by one section in the store. For instance, I have been to several ‘Crossword’, ‘Landmark’, etc. book stores and all of them house the exact same books. But there was this one book store in Bandra, a quaint little one, and the owner had handpicked every book on the shelf and God was it amazing! I had heard about every book there and all of them had good reviews from people who had read them. It wasn’t even like I had only seen them online or in passing. He even had special books on Mumbai which are hard to be found anywhere else.
Then there is the Book Market near Flora Fountain in Colaba, a heaven for broke bibliophiles. You name it, and they have almost always got it, for prices as low as a Wodehouse Omnibus for 300 bucks. If you can’t find anything specific just go to “Kitaabkhana” nearby and place your order and they will even call you when they get that book in stock.
There was also one book store in Kasol which I really really wanted to visit. Every cafe you went to, people were reading one book or another and since the Israelis who frequent that place live there for several months, the book store was the only place that could provide them with good literature at a place as inaccessible as Kasol. So if anybody manages to find that place open some day, please buy me a book from there, I will be forever in debt. Though I have to confess I was more curious about the genius notes that the potheads had scribbled than in the books itself. 😀
I cannot stress this enough but this is one of the best poems I have ever heard and the way he delivers is just breathtaking.
They introduce themselves like this: We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry’s audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.
I am so inspired by them, I think I watched about 20 of these videos and trust me it was time well spent. I guarantee you can’t leave without spending at least half an hour. Please do yourself a favour and go watch. 🙂
Fantastic Breasts and where to find them:
How I wish someday I could write like them. ❤
The first time I saw her…
Everything in my head went quiet.
All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I’m thinking:
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
Did I lock the doors? Yes.
Did I wash my hands? Yes.
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips..
Or the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek—
the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or fucking talking to her…
But she loved it.
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday.
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk.
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked—
when she talked
when she talked;
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off.
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her.
Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was
just making her late for work…
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking…
When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line.
She told me that I was taking up too much of her time.
Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place.
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her;that this whole thing was a mistake, but…
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her?
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t.
I can’t – I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her.
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin.
I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars…
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel..
How she turns shower knobs like she’s opening a safe.
How she blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
blows out candles—
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her.
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he doesn’t care if it’s perfect!
I want her back so bad…
I leave the door unlocked.
I leave the lights on.
Tonight feels like the night to read Rumi. I was first introduced to him only recently by a friend and there is no way someone could not love his writing (don’t mind the double negatives). Ever since I read his poetry/verses I keep going back to Kitaabkhana, to the section where his books are and get lost in them. Here are some of his gems. ❤
In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
Where no one sees you,
But sometimes I do,
And that sight becomes art.
Wow, the search for a the muse comes alive through his lines. Even for me, there is this constant search for inspiration which is only satiated by something like a memory or something that love teaches me on this journey called life. 🙂
This moment that love comes to rest in me,
Many beings in one being.
In one wheat grain a thousand sheaf stacks.
Inside the needle’s eye, a turning night of stars.
Just the beauty of how a million things could be housed into a single entity with the power of love.
The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
How blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They’re in each other all along.
Clichéd? But beautiful.
I know a lot must have been lost in translation but then that gives me another thing to do in life. Someday maybe I will learn to read it in its original form. And then I will fall even more in love with him, if that’s possible. 🙂
As regular followers (I know there aren’t any) one would be able to find certain trends in my blog. I have decided to make all the 25-50-75-th posts about the blog and in general about writing. The 50th one was about writing and this one is about writing in a stream of consciousness way. For those who don’t know, Stream of Consciousness is an uninterrupted flow of ideas, it’s like you write whatever comes to your mind, unedited. It’s your feelings, thoughts, emotions in a continuous flow. So that reminds me of when I was a kid and used to write in my journal, I used this technique wherein I wrote a word and then another word that came to my mind on writing the previous word and so on. This was basically a recounting of my daily experiences and life in general and you won’t believe but till this day I remember the whole thought process behind each and every word and also how it led me to the next word. Surprisingly, I didn’t even know about the concept of Stream of Consciousness then, but aren’t all these concepts just ordinary processes until somebody gives them a name.So since this is the 75th post, you know how it is marked by diamonds, as in it is termed The Diamond Anniversary or something, so this is my diamond post(?), uninterrupted, unedited, straight from the heart. What comes to my mind first when I think about diamonds is that night when we went to a waterfall (Bhagsunag in McLeodganj). It was completely dark, like it is in forests and in the mountains. We couldn’t see a thing, there was just faint moonlight and the shining dark water below us. We tried to click pictures with those handy digicams people use and the flash was on. To our surprise when the flash clicked, the million water droplets of the waterfall shone like diamonds falling towards us. Words can’t do justice to that moment, it was too beautiful to be true. We kept on clicking pictures just to see those water droplets/diamonds. I was thinking about Sylvia Plath today, I think I also dreamt of her yesterday night. maybe because I saw a book of hers in a friend’s bookshelf yesterday. I have been having bad dreams for a while now. I assume that bad dreams mean the opposite in real life so I don’t get worried. Doesn’t it happen to you too that when you see someone’s bookshelf, you can’t sit back until you have seen and noted each and every book on it. Maybe if you’re not a book lover, that might not happen with you, but I am sure whatever you’re passionate about must drive you crazy in the same way. I personally can’t resist scanning each and every book. I read everything and anything that I can put my hands upon. I just CANNOT DO NOTHING! That is also how my habit of reading books started. When I was realllly young, we used to visit the doctor a lot, maybe because of my asthma or maybe because of something that was ailing my parents at the moment but I remember some beautifully illustrated childrens’ books lying there and I could never ever resist reading them. I always finished one or two when I went there and that is where it all started. I have definitely come a long way from there. It’s what they say right, whatever happens, happens for the best! ❤
So I was surfing the web aimlessly (as usual) and I came across this Tumblr page: Everybody Reading Books. I could just spend hours and hours going through the posts on this page! There are poetry readings by Ben Whishaw, pictures of people reading at the most unusual places, beautiful quotes about reading, adorable memes on books and so much more. All these pictures gave way to a many different streams of thoughts.
I wondered about all the times I have seen a person reading and wondered how they would be like in life, based on the book they were reading. I have always asked fellow book-lovers about the books they would want to recommend me to read and surely, even that has a lot to say about the kind of people they are.
While watching movies, there are several instances when a person is reading a book. I think that the director has a solid reason behind why he places a particular book at a particular time in a particular way in the scene. One such movie that I remember is Interstellar where the bookshelf is a very important part of the movie’s plot. You can check out this link to know more and more. In short, the books in the shelf housed some books which were also the names of the characters in the movie. There were poems by T. S. Eliot talking about concepts of space and time, One Hundred Years of Solitude (for obvious reasons), etc. I am sure Nolan had a reason behind placing each book there. I believe like a picture says a thousand words, a book also says a thousand things about the person who is reading it.
Here is a list of movie characters reading books in a movie. Go check it out. I am sure it will be interesting to figure out how the movie’s plot is related to the book that appears in the movie.
So today I went to the library to return my books. It was ‘Ignorance’ by Milan Kundera, in case you were wondering. In my last college the librarians were really rude and were always irritated at something or the other. When you asked them to find a book for you, they just sent you to some other person and so on. In this college, it’s sooo much different. Generally, there is a man sitting at the counter who is very pleasant and also talkative. He is the one I usually go to. Today, he wasn’t there. There was a woman instead. I told her I wanted to return the book, she asked me what the genre was and what the title meant. I was taken aback for a moment. I thought for a minute and then told her that how it meant ‘deliberately not knowing something’. She was intrigued. She then asked me to tell the story. I was never any good at verbal communication. I told her what I could. Storytelling is definitely not one of my strong points. Finally, after a conversation of five minutes she let me go. It was a good one too. I began contemplating her life, being a librarian, how amazing it must be. I was reminded of the time when there was a library behind my house when I lived in Bangalore. I could look at the numerous shelves of books through the window at the back of my house. I used to go there and issue books everyday, sometimes three times in a day! The librarian just let me sit there for hours and go through the shelves. It was one of the best times of my life. And then, we shifted to another place. All good things come to an end!
What I was getting at was that I have always wanted to be a librarian, or own a book shop. It would be heavenly, spending your whole day in a library. But I understand that you begin to hate whatever you invest too much time doing. So maybe a part-time job would suffice. And maybe I would sell the book-shop after a while. To quote Jorge Luis Borges: “I have always dreamt that Paradise will be a kind of Library”.