can you breathe into me and make me more real.......

Wish I could be a poet.

Wish i could describe in meaningful, profound, terms the incredible ennui and tiredness, which makes you refresh your mailbox for the 1000th time without knowing why, mindlessly delete all the incoming mails, refresh that orkut screen again and again, browse through old pics and try to play around with a few, well ...do everything except what you have to do.

Wish I could wax lyrical about the way my room looks in the afternoon when it rains and I switch off the lights, draw the curtains and let the delicious earthy , murky greyness and scent seep in..the cool ,calmness ..the stolidity of it, the strains of the music in the background and the whitish softness of the sheets when I lie in bed just like that..

Wish music did not sound so harsh when I leave it on for sometime and return to it after a while, when I am doing something else. The preppy bouncy number takes on jarring ..accusatory overtones and also sounds incredibly loud..

Wish you were not so far away..

Wish I could fall in love with a new song everyday..

Wish I could describe in detail how I feel when i do discover a song I can fall in love with..or the warm satisfaction of repeated playings after that..

Wish I could remember where I lost that book, I am suddenly reminded of it even as I am typing this, and I am upset that I lost it while shifting..

Wish I could be all informed and deep and have an opinion about many things. I dont have an opinion abt most..but I do have the facts( as an afterthought)

Wish I could write well enough to describe the warmth of my hands clasped around a coffee cup on a cold morning..Its like putting iodex or smelling vicks..umm if u care for these things:-s

Wish i could make beautiful music..

Wish I could dream up the lyrics I am listening to right now..

"When ur born ur afraid of the darkness/ And then ur afraid of the light”- Aerosmith, Taste of India.

So when did we stop exploring the world for ourselves and began to believe in what was told and accepted? When did we start constraining what we did or felt because we saw others doing it.. ..and when did we stop believing that we could be otherwise? When did ecstatic happiness give way to measured expressions of joy? When did uninhibited enthusiasm give way to cautiousness, when did the stars give way to practical goals? When were dreams constrained? When did we not want to seek any light beyond what we already knew, and when did we become content basking in its glory? When did we start loving the darkness because it bought the illusion of a new light the next day?? And when was it that we stared saying ...I wish instead of I will..

Someone, between the sanctified sleep and silence

Hmm….I will give you some red..just a sprinkling. I will let the red run slowly between my fingers into your outstretched palm. I will let the sun play tricks with your eyes so that it looks crimson one instant and fiery orange the next instant.

I will let you feel the sun against your face and I will let it conjure up visions behind your closed eyes. I'll let you feel the silken red touch of a rose petal dipped with dew.

I will let you feel the heat of the red brick pavement burning your feet as you run across it, I will let you imagine the crimson splash of the sun as it sets into the sea of your dreams.

I will let you finger the silk of your red shawl as you drape it over your head to shield yourself from the sun and feel the dark red coolness like wet vermilion splayed across your palm.

And as the clouds gather I'll give you some blue. I'll sprinkle it all over and let it become the droplets drenching you.

I will sprinkle it faster and let it become the spray you always imagined, the sea spray of the bluish milkish water caressing your feet and I will let you feel the cool grayish blue of the slippery rocks as you hold on to them.

I will let you soak yourself in the inky blackness of the night sky in the desert and the cool sparkle of the full moon.

I will let you run the sand between your fingers, blue or brown. And I'll let you dwell on slate grey thoughts and inkish blue desires.

I will spray the air with green , adding water to the colour. I'll take you to hope , to freshness to newness to palm fronded aspirations, to grass rooted beliefs, to patina tinted memories.

I will let you mix the colours and paint your own story.