Wednesday, April 27, 2005


When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

So darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh Stand, stand by me, stand by me

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Woah stand now, stand by me, stand by me

And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Woah stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me, oh now now stand by me
Oh stand by me, stand by me, stand by me

Monday, April 25, 2005

put up on show (and rightly so)

the rock music party

Sunday, April 24, 2005

the leaves fading into the blackness

the leaves were big and heavy. when i looked up, they were fading into the night above. deep green, turning into an almost black, turning into the night.

sitting on a good cushioned chair having my coffee, i felt life like that tree. with the leaves of the next few days and the next few months gradually fading into an inky blackness.

at one point i used to be very interested in writing. i used to think of myself as a better form of hemingway. writing in that simple style. making an impact over many people. i used to think like joyce about flowery and achingly beautiful language. that it was so easy to write like that. to emote through language. rather than to describe. actually, while writing this last paragraph, i suddenly realized (like a bolt from the blue), that i actually do think like this even now. i just cannot stand the beautiful writing thing (like a puff cake waiting to be smashed onto the heavily made up literature woman). what i do really like is desciption. the smell. the view. the animals. the people. the cars and the cows. and everything inbetween. what i was thinking. and what that other person whom i am talking to is saying. nothing else. not his/her thoughts. i cannot sense them. no feelings in the air, nor about the eagle looking at the scene from above.

simple. straightforward. statements.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

truckful of colours

Monday, April 11, 2005

S T O P the L I F T

through the windscreen

the rain finally came in chennai. it was quite a day. business was down and the weather was beautiful. sometime during the day, i had some tea someplace and it all felt good. then i had to get back to work!

things are always like that. its all good till the next moment.
the yellow autos and the rain on the glass and on me will always remain as a striking memory within me. something about the freshness about that day has cut deep. especially since in chennai you dont get too many of those kind of days!
to the end of something

a letter putting everything in words
anger, hate, disgust for the love
somethings in life used to have a meaning
now it is like a jaded memory

when i think of all the time we had
it makes me want to shut my eyes and cry
my stomach hurts and my shoulders shake
in anger and in hate.

he was thinking it could end somehow
in another country and in another place
the world is small and the people think the same
there is no possibility for all that is not plain

its not what you think that counts
not the silent looks and the countless thoughts
its someone else who thinks for you
its the world around which decides for you

sad, isint it?
that it should get washed like this
just because you became rational
and believed that the whole world thinks like that same asshole

delve deeper into your mind
and perhaps the true nature of things might be found
that all that is not right is always not wrong.
but this thought buried will not even get flowers
because you have moved away from this memory
to create another sweet story.

Monday, April 04, 2005

light and shadows

waiting to be filled

Friday, April 01, 2005


above the beach

motion in plastic

Big Yellow (taxi?)

cameras and action

saturday at work

73, armenian street