When it rained

                                             Those feelings that happen in between extremely sleepy,numb,happy,sad,content,confused,lost ,nervous,excited.Those feelings which have no name,but intrigue most.
That feeling when we ate tender coconut ice-cream out of tubs at your house when it rained,
the feeling when we drove by the lake late at night and goosebumps revealed themselves on my skin and you put your hand on my knee,almost smiling.
The other time when what I knew was not quite love,but looked like it and it scared me out of sleep.
That sentiment when an old house help comes back on every festive occasion with my favourite tamarind rice.
the forgiveness when friendships that should have died surprise me at the door,"Let's go for a walk",they say.
That freedom when you choose despite the odds,when you win even when you lose.
The warmth of watching someone you love with all your life break into a smile,genuinely..like watching someone open a present you know they'll love.
Almost as many feelings as faces in the world.Maybe even more,who knows,some you'll never know but will always want to.

These feelings that don't have names but deserve such acknowledgement.They make a home for your heart.

Should you have cried //Dewberry sky

Screwy souls always fill more wholesome spaces in the world than sane ones,
and although they're sore from life and its sickeningly sweet atmosphere,it's spells of solitude that conditions solidarity.
                                 And when life ceases to be the party that went on all night,and begins to be the mess of a morning that follows,and you're hungover from the happiness that dulls down to a memory.
Try escape the loop of inertia stuck to you like chewing gum on a shoe's sole,and you fail.Fail miserably,only offsetting routine,replacing it with ornate excuses not to be.
                                                   Your soul is a screwy stew,reduced to chunks of smiles and fears.But it's these same souls that make art,that make the world a piece of it.The grand scheme of things.                                                                        

                              

Faery child of the concrete jungle

A pair of wings tattooed on her shoulder blades,

her thick braid rested along her spine,the body to the tiny pair of wings.

Scraps of conversation created the buzz of words that mingled to mean nothing at all,and the melange  of noise created by fake accents that make one homicidal scattered in great abundance.

All evening,I kept walking into people,elbowing them in their faces,shuffled along with the crowd ,but I found her and I followed her,to look at her back.

She moved languidly and with an elegance that din't belong to this century,a certain sorrow about her face when she spun around slowly,as I held my breath.

A glimpse,a flash of her plain face,yet it was something else..not long before the crowd pushed me behind and I vanished into the insignificance of numbers,and the stranger,she stayed in my line of sight till she grew into a blurry ice blue speck in the distance,a star among all the others in the sky.A memory,a mottled picture from another time.Cosmic dust could fall out from the seams of her satin dress  as she swirled ,creating a cosmogyral universe of it's own and I wouldn't notice,though,so disenchanting feels the razzmatazz of the everyday world to me.Blame the media and its influences,I say.

But she needed no words to speak,she enchanted with silent mystery.No trace or shadow of a smile even in her eyes,just a hint of agony.

Just when you think wonder will wash away,fade,fray with age...something or someone will make you realise it stays.