Chew on it.

Chances are all we have.

Month: May, 2012

Feet thinkers

It’s easier to stand on the shore and dream about the waves. She does that all the time. Observe from a distance because, let’s face it- it’s easier that way. No risks.
This has to do with the relationship I have with my best friend, Manasi. She’s the wiser one. I’m the impulsive thinker. She’ll look out for me while I’m busy causing damage to the system. To be fair, she knows I’m programmed to undo. I, in the meanwhile know that try as I may, I can never make her think like me. But that’s okay. We balance each other.
Actually, she’s the pattern in my madness.
So when I told her about this latest addition in my circle, phone book, whatsapp etc, she wanted to say such a lot, but she didn’t. That’s how she is. Apprehensive, uncertain- but caring. Because these are strange tides- and while I do go swimming every once a while, she knows what currents could have me sinking.
She’s apprehensive not just about me, because of the absolutely unwavering idiot that I can be, but because she doesn’t see herself in me. She doesn’t see a pattern that she could have fought had she been in my place. As much as I convince her that this is something I don’t want to fight off, she’ll only nod. I know for a fact that her weapons of ‘I told you so’ and ‘this too shall pass’ are hidden behind her but not well enough for me not to see.
I can’t help it either. I have to jump to conclusions. I have to scratch my gut a little more for answers till I bleed and yet, not find them. But that’s how I’m programmed. A little on the masochistic side.
That’s why I can’t do without her standing on the shore. Every time I’m hurt that much more than the last time, I need a Manasi to be nursed back to being ready to war against myself again. She’s my fuel. She’s my pillow.
“But there’s no point telling you,” she finally said last evening, “If I tell you five things to do you’ll go ahead and do the sixth. But I’ll still tell you those five. I have to. That’s my role.”
That’s when I stand up to everyone who wonders why I’m still friends with that nagging, pessimistic, practical girl who’s everything I’ll never even wish to be like.
It’s the other way round, you see. She’s everything I cannot even hope to be like.
While I swim in tides that could drown me, my buoy’s still watching.

They caught me
Staring into spaces
Breathing into glass
Writing names they didn’t know
They saw me
Wiping dried tears
Killing dead memories
Laughing at the dead.
They taught me
Who to forget
What to forget
When to forget
But not why and how
They stopped me
From running away
Telling lies
Giving out
But they couldn’t
Tell me it was wrong
Because I wouldn’t believe them anyway
Would you ever too?
If they took it all away?
Tore you down to pieces?
And wanted you to laugh along?
These are strange tides
They’ll sweep you off the shore
They’ll take what you know is yours
And you’ll reap what you never sowed.
These are strange tides
They’re bound to swallow you whole
They’ll fill your lungs and catch your tongue
And you can’t help but go with the flow.

Myocardial Ruptures

That momentary heartbreak when the signal goes from green to amber to red and I can’t make it past. When a face in a car looks familiar but isn’t. When autorickshaw metres tick a few feet before they must. When I have to spend that precious 500. When Mum comes home tired and sleepy. When I wake up and remember I’ve fought with a friend.
That heartbreak keeps me alive. And beating.


We don’t sing, we don’t have vocal chords-
We’re two even numbers fighting against the odds.
Oh it looks like a gun, it’s not loaded.
It’s as empty as the Virar fast he boarded.
Let the keys be- they open no door
We’re stuck without a now- we only have a before
He’s standing in the rain, looking up at the skies
I’m sitting by his side, swatting away those flies
We’re an adventure, it seems- well, if you insist
I get my hands down his neck; he gets my pants in a twist
We’re strangers on a railway, passengers on different trains
We’re singers in a subway, we’re two unshed drops of rain


That’s the strangest thing. I said I’ll call. I made that unnecessary promise.
We never talk on the phone. At least not how people are meant to. It’s been a while since it’s been a conversation and not just one voice ranting to the listening ear.
But I guess making an exception for him is not quite a new thing.
Old habits need euthanasia.


Take a break. Take a trip.

Blast A Trumpet

Slowly making incisions in everything I come across

Raj Sivaraman

Part Time Genius, Full Time Hyperbolizer


Don't expect brilliance. Mediocre at best.

Chew on it.

Chances are all we have.

Immature Fruit

Poetry, Travels, Sketches, Writings and a Sip of Inspiration with Passion.

A Dowg's Life

I’m a dowg. Woof.

Smoke Signals

Life, et cetera