I sometimes hear outsiders call Mumbaikers, mechanical. Could that be true? I think we awaken every morning, bright with the colour of our individuality. Then the city crystalizes us into a reverse prism, bringing out only the most necessary aspects of our being and spits us out, still filtered and ready to color anew, the next day.
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You wouldn’t recognise desirein the emptiness in your mouthmaking way for wordsthat your stomach is already breaking down You wouldn’t know desire if it licked youYou think it’s meant to kick & clawNot snuggle between your cellsBreathing the quiet places between people You wouldn’t trust desireEven if you laid bare…
I was watching the first 20 minutes or so of ‘Jerry Maguire’ on TV and it made me feel like writing. Stories like that always do, don’t they? Inspirational ones about people who do something different, face challenges and then overcome them. This was yesterday. The minute I turned the…
It’s a day for flying solo. For being alone. Vegging out, watching mindless TV and pausing to stare out of the window, unseeing into the unclear outside, fogged, smogged and clogged by rain and outsideness. Or for getting lost in a crowd. The storm in the center of a sea…
The city is so much of a beast that it will throw enough random events in everyone’s mechanical routine, if one were to exist. Most people may stop reacting to these events because the element of surprise reduces the longer one stays in the city.