tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32745432011-07-08T01:15:14.728-04:00Kanu's Blogk a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comBlogger571100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134533242626903072005-12-13T23:06:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:16:14.793-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Oct 10, 06:54:30 PM, 2004 I’ve seen a day melt today… the sun shone its brightest… then night came and slowly started nibbling at it… the orange melted into a red, then a purple, then a deep blue till all was gone and a black blanket gobbled up all that was there…I stepped outside my window and into the sky.. I walked its stairs and walked till my knees ached… I saw a

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134533149652206082005-12-13T23:04:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:05:49.663-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsMon May 26, 06:46:24 PM, 2004 My first attempt at a story, rather than the usual descriptions I do, though the tapestry is woven from borrowed threads of my previous blog entries! :-)The Rock‘Have you ever seen a six legged insect?’ she mockingly asked, as she painstakingly moved millimeter by millimeter with her walker, till she finally reached the car, and they helped her

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134533042481328602005-12-13T23:03:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:04:02.486-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue May 13, 11:30:39 AM, 2004 I wonder how others manage it.. but my response to the previous post exceeded the limit and I am posting it as a blog.. here's to Rex :-)"why make that effort to make a statement out of my life and subject it to judgements made by the rest of the world.. where they would either uphold it on a pedestal or denigerate it and subject it to

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532976707819912005-12-13T23:02:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:02:56.710-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue Apr 22, 04:57:24 AM, 2004 sitting here in the mundaneity of my existence I am trying to figure out why I need to live at all.. why make that effort to make a statement out of my life and subject it to judgements made by the rest of the world.. where they would either uphold it on a pedestal or denigerate it and subject it to derision... no event acts as a balm neither do

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532930665882632005-12-13T23:01:00.001-05:002005-12-13T23:02:10.666-05:00

Archived 'Lost' Posts Wed Apr 02, 01:57:25 PM, 2004 Spring's here... feels as if wordsworth's daffodils, vincent's irises are popping right out of picturebooks. Edson, Viorica and me went on a flower smelling spree, and plucked one each when no one was looking.. for all practical purposes Viorica's Romanian origins have gotten her the label of 'the uncultured slav', and yours truely the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532921583987392005-12-13T23:01:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:02:01.583-05:00

Archived 'Lost' Posts Wed Apr 02, 01:57:25 PM, 2004 Spring's here... feels as if wordsworth's daffodils, vincent's irises are popping right out of picturebooks. Edson, Viorica and me went on a flower smelling spree, and plucked one each when no one was looking.. for all practical purposes Viorica's Romanian origins have gotten her the label of 'the uncultured slav', and yours truely the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532834459493612005-12-13T22:59:00.000-05:002005-12-13T23:00:34.466-05:00

Archived 'Lost' Blogs Fri Mar 28, 11:46:48 PM, 2004 Annonymously yours..Annonymity grants you solace. A facelessness that grants a wildcard to start afresh. A calmness which trascends places, border and people. A namelessness which swims across unnoticed across a sea of who's who. After a while any person is just another person, and any place just another place. Annonymity is that breath of

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532630621091202005-12-13T22:56:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:57:10.623-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Mar 05, 02:26:32 PM, 2004 Maybe its time to rise above euphemisms and metaphors. Maybe its time to open my eyes and get sucked into the real world and finally complete the act of existing with the rest and put a rest to their long itterated complaints and cajolements. She lives in my head they say. And I press my head and squeeze it hard in my hands, till my ears ache

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532560349632322005-12-13T22:55:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:56:00.350-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Feb 19, 12:33:28 AM, 2003Sweet madnessIf there was ever such a phrase....Then all this would be hersThat came across in her one single gaze....But alas! The misery of sanityTo be fettered by mundanity....She mused and smiled as she saw the sunflowers bounce about wildly in the gentle caresses of the wind. Sunflowers were fine; they inspired Vincent didnt they? As his

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532517804568192005-12-13T22:54:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:55:17.806-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue Feb 18, 08:53:34 AM, 2003 The ObituaryShe lives in the cemetery of her past. Only in this cemetery half eaten moldy carcasses of dreams lie strewn about, festering and rotting till they become one with the very ground which gave birth to them. She wanders around, touching each one of them, from time to time, hoping that they show some semblance of life in them. But who

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532468676783912005-12-13T22:53:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:54:28.680-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsMon Jan 06, 02:40:23 PM, 2003 In one leap I am trying to cover the anachronicity between living and blogdom. It is cliché to talk about life and get descriptive and lyrical about life's day-t o-day humdrum affairs sand the very act of living itself. Yet I am addictively a part of this cliché. Hello world, I am alive and living. Maybe the writer in me has finally died her

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532397852121892005-12-13T22:52:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:53:17.853-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsSat Jan 04, 12:29:37 PM, 2003meandering through crooked streets and to sense the tangles within.. and to uncoil them and lay it out to straighten, would require more meandering.. till the meandering coil within themselves and entangle the tangles within.. and to paint a picture with words of coils and coils within, on a canvas of the without

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532346057653872005-12-13T22:51:00.001-05:002005-12-13T22:52:26.060-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsThu Sep 19, 01:28:27 AM, 2002 This feeling too shall wear out.. like all other feelings.. till there is none left..

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532301193290062005-12-13T22:51:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:51:41.193-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Sep 18, 12:18:57 AM, 2002 I painted you,with the colors of loneliness,lit in that aura of melencholy,you stood right there,and I percieved perfection,I yearn for warmth,run and embrace you,and yet when I touch,all that you have,to offer,is coldness,which numbs my soul,I wake up,and the lights fade away,stripping you off your glory,and you stand there naked,SO ordinary,

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532262042606852005-12-13T22:50:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:51:02.043-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsThu Sep 12, 10:50:36 PM, 2002 some dreams are never meant to be spoken,a touch of wind and they end up with their wings broken,wrapped up in a cellophyne of cold logic and reason,they breathe their last, whither and die.decaying, corroding, festering dreams,their moth eaten wings,a fallacy to the wonderous hues,and the promises they once held,i watch helpless as they die,to

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532223969729322005-12-13T22:49:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:50:23.970-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Aug 30, 12:08:27 PM, 2002 'Some birds can never be caged. Their feathers are just too bright...'Morgan Freeman, 'Shawshank RedemptionThis is how I feel, at this moment and point of my life... and its a beautiful feeling.... *touchwood*

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532170842640862005-12-13T22:48:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:49:30.856-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue Aug 20, 09:52:46 AM, 2002Frankfurt-PhiladelphiaI walked into the plane and look around for my seat, and all this while I hope that I dont have to sit next to someone I need to make a conversation with. My travel agent had already let me down and didnt grant me the window seat for this flight journey which I so desired. I reached my seat and see two eyes peering at me.. an

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532106909958202005-12-13T22:47:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:48:26.910-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Jul 31, 03:12:36 PM, 2002 Delhi- Frankfurt: 2:45amI wave my goodbyes to my family and friends and walk the lone floors of the airport lounge. I get my paperwork done in a trance, and soon I get my boarding pass. The finalilty of my journey is still taking a while to sink in.I go to the phone booth and call up home. I hear my mother's familiar voice on the other end and

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134532063249462252005-12-13T22:46:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:47:43.253-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 26, 12:33:45 PM, 2002 Sundry, Diamond Joe and the Enchanted ForestSundry the Desultory Lass is lost today… Diamond Joe walks beside her, and not a word is uttered between them as they walk the enchanted forest. A shooting star winks at them before it dies its pre destined death, and not an eyebrow raised over its ephemeral existence that came to an abrupt end,

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531993589479562005-12-13T22:45:00.001-05:002005-12-13T22:46:33.593-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 26, 12:31:41 PM, 2002 Memories…Surprises always used to make me uncomfortable. And people as surprises, even worse. I love consistency around me, even though I myself am a far cry from consistency. My justification for it has always been that I as it am inconsistent, so if the rest of the world were to follow suit, there would be absolutely so scope for any

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531941384342482005-12-13T22:45:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:45:41.386-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 19, 07:34:51 PM, 2002 A Thought..You can wallow in self pity and self contrived sorrows till eternity.. that’s the easiest way out… its easy to leave your head behind… and not give a thought to what you are doing or the path of destruction that you are treading on…you walk with not a thought given to your actions or the sorrow that you’ve so callously passed on to

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531900425470162005-12-13T22:44:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:45:00.426-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsSat Jul 13, 09:48:14 AM, 2002 I look at the horizon. The moon is slowly losing its luster. The sky fades till it moves and swallows up the moon within itself. I stand mesmerised and search for familiarity. I no longer see the holed blanket above and I panic. Everything around me goes still and numb. And I wonder if it is the end. And the stillness, deafening. Just when I

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531865600098412005-12-13T22:43:00.001-05:002005-12-13T22:44:25.600-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 12, 05:30:48 AM, 2002 Tape that mindForce it shutBefore it spewsAnd spills out..A vomit of thoughtsDesultory circlesMeaningless meaningsOf an ennui called lifeRound and roundIn a merry go roundLost in the humdrumOf turning wheels,And nauseating existence

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531823961099792005-12-13T22:43:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:43:43.963-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 12, 05:29:34 AM, 2002 The Grand Treasure Hunt- Part IINext day, we again start off, this time towards Mehrauli. The school is inside Mehrauli’s village area now, and the whole system puzzled me. The first center was just 5 mins from our area, and to have our center in a place this far away seemed illogical and amazing.Again, this center was no different from the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531773335617942005-12-13T22:42:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:42:53.340-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Jul 10, 05:33:49 AM, 2002 The Grand Treasure Hunt – Part IThe government of India came up with advertisements in all major newspapers in Delhi, last week, announcing that people who haven’t gotten their voter’s id made could get it done till October. The advertisement listed centers for different parts of Delhi. South Delhi, South west Delhi etc.It has been my dream to

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531712720782012005-12-13T22:40:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:41:52.723-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Jul 10, 05:32:42 AM, 2002 Till death do us apart..Childhood, when you live through it is a dream… and adult life at times becomes easier and more livable through recollections of those dreams… and you reach your final destination without even realizing it. Somehow clubbing childhood and death together gives a feeling of finally completing a jigsaw puzzle by slipping in

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531630204682342005-12-13T22:39:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:40:30.206-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsWed Jul 10, 02:42:54 AM, 2002Hide and Seek… I Spy…There was a power cut yesterday night. We do have an inverter, but yesterday just on an impulse, I rushed out, like I used to do when I was a kid. Maybe it was the stars.. or the moon.. I don’t really know… but I wanted to be out.I found my friends as well outside. Pals I had grown up with… we went to our favorite spot and lay

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531548849692822005-12-13T22:38:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:39:08.850-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue Jul 09, 01:43:28 PM, 2002 The WebI am hooked onto the net…Semiotics substitute emotionsAnd people are just notionsNameless strangers, worded feelingsI switch on and off a sea of people with click of a mouseAnd even the most learned would be struck with the wisdom I espouseI sit and wait in front of a lifeless machine…For life to be placed on a platter for me to be seen..

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531478981742372005-12-13T22:37:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:37:58.983-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsMon Jul 08, 01:41:04 PM, 2002 Musically yours…Sometime back I came across a write up on acquiring a new guitar by a fellow blogger and couldn't help but long for mine...I got my first and only guitar in 8th grade after promising my parents that it wont get added to my long list of ‘jack of all trades master of none’. I started drawing and painting, and I’d be packed off for

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531428099201592005-12-13T22:36:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:37:08.100-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 05, 11:18:33 PM, 2002 I have started a new journal. It is on live journal.

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531364735848702005-12-13T22:35:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:36:04.740-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jul 05, 06:55:50 PM, 2002 Marriage Bhelpuri over fruit beer and momos…Marriage, as a concept was introduced to me in third grade... One of my friends from the school bus had taken a paper garland I had made in the arts and crafts class and put it around my neck. Soon enough we were congratulated on our ‘marriage’, and the poor guy changed his school the very next year,

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531312583452472005-12-13T22:34:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:35:12.586-05:00

Archived 'Lost' Posts[ Wed Jul 03, 01:13:12 PM, 2002 "Bunker Roy of Tilonia wishes to return the Aga Khan Award for Architecture awarded to Tilonia’s ‘Barefoot Architects’ (‘illiterate farmers’) in December 2001. Mr Roy seems pained by the inclusion of architect Neehar Raina, who graduated from the School of Planning and Architecture in Delhi in 1984, in the Foundation’s award citation in mid

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531264128125422005-12-13T22:33:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:34:24.130-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsSat Jun 29, 02:26:03 PM , 2002 Cardboard FairytaleSing we must…Before these bones turn to dust…A song for all the dances and the merry…And one for all the sorrows that we wish to bury…Avarice is a sin we are told…Then how come the most precious thing on earth is still gold?I run, run with the rest…Don’t know where we are going.. but run we must…Talks talks and callous talks…

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531214714386212005-12-13T22:32:00.001-05:002005-12-13T22:33:34.716-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jun 28, 04:47:48 PM, 2002 I am what I am I am…I am a confused narcissist. And probably most of us are. Narcissist because of the amount of time we spend on delving into ‘I’, and confused because the delving is not always positive.My only heartbreak ever, and I scrutinize the ‘I’ that I see in the mirror. Maybe things would have been different had I been really good

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531164160210592005-12-13T22:32:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:32:44.166-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsThu Jun 27, 04:00:29 AM, 2002 Summertime Passtime….Right now I am in this in-between phase… I am westward bound, for my post graduation in another month’s time, and I have time to kill, while I wait for my I20 and the usual visa process to happen.One of the privileges of being in the capital of India, is the innumerable amount of seminars that there is a possibility of

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531112467642022005-12-13T22:31:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:31:52.466-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsTue Jun 25, 02:18:52 PM, 2002 There’s a teardrop in my head..

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531070709270372005-12-13T22:30:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:31:10.710-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsThu Jun 20, 05:40:36 AM, 2002 Life: a three-act play: Act I, anticipation and optimism towards what lies ahead; Act II, lamentations and dirge over monotonous existence alternated by brief crescendos of joyous moments; Act III, rumination over Act I and Act II. There are no sequences or an order to it, nor a count for the repetition for each Act; a deconstruction to the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134531013397616722005-12-13T22:29:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:30:13.406-05:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsThu Jun 20, 05:37:18 AM, 2002 'You have to keep moving, to keep from falling….'The ‘Green Eyed Monster’Green is for jealousy, green is for lust, green is for greed. The green eyed monster was basically a reflection or the most available excuse for bringing out everything ‘not-so-good’ or the ‘unhaloed’ worse half of her.Medium built, brownish hair, fair complexion and those

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530934661831672005-12-13T22:27:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:28:54.666-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsThu Jun 20, 02:28:41 AM, 2002 recycling abandoned attempts at story writing :PTwo Shades of DuskA MeetingI start a conversation, while he looks on and slowly the voices around us seem to fade away. Someone told me once about voices in one’s head. Its like a cacophony created right there. A babble of voices which get louder by the minute. The more you listen them out, the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530855032929262005-12-13T22:26:00.001-05:002005-12-13T22:27:35.036-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsWed Jun 19, 07:01:10 PM, 2002 'Quarter Life Crisis'I watch my seven year old niece trying hard to slip into my shoes… I secretly wish her all the time in the world before she fits into those shoes… there are plenty of yet unclimbed trees, innumerable occasions for skinned knees and hearts, to be encountered and taken care of before they finally fit her.‘Quarter life Crisis!’

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530803079609542005-12-13T22:26:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:26:43.080-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsTue May 28, 04:41:06 AM, 2002 Ode to ExistenceI need to sleep…Shut away the din..And wish awayThe cacaphonicityOf yet another monotonous existence…Yet anotherInconsequential sunset,Yet anotherIndifferent me…And I wonder..Is life passing me by?I muse over a chocolate,Mashing it absent mindedlyIn my fingers,Ruminating,Watching it melt,Into a gooey messAll those days..Always

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530752621552572005-12-13T22:25:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:25:52.623-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsMon May 06, 10:29:44 AM, 2002‘Information wants to be space’-, Erik Davis‘Nonchalance’ and ‘Monotony’: two words which became a part of my favored vocabulary, ever since I started writing: The first time I got introduced to them in my English class, I suspected their having musical connotations and the revelation of their ironical meanings disappointed me. Nevertheless, my

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530696550479052005-12-13T22:24:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:24:56.556-05:00

Archived 'Lost PostsFri May 03, 12:32:19 AM, 2002Dear God,This world that you’ve created is no longer worth living in. Every part of the globe is burning. Humans are metamorphosing into animals. And since more animals would mean too many animals, and less space for humans, the present animals are being sent towards extinction. But humans are massacring humans anyways and it is actually a constant

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530636203517192005-12-13T22:23:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:23:56.206-05:00

Archived 'Lost'Posts[ Tue Apr 30, 05:21:30 AM, 2002 Hold onto your dreams and fly.. has always been my favorite phrase. It was written on a birthday card given to me when I turned sixteen. Then, at sixteen I was young enough to have infinite number of dreams, and now at twenty five, I am too old to remember each and everyone of them. But I do remember letting my mind go astray then, and try and

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530570726992132005-12-13T22:21:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:22:50.730-05:00

Archived 'Lost Posts'Mon Apr 29, 03:39:23 PM, 2002 ‘Have you ever seen a six legged insect?’, my uncle mockingly asked, as he painstakingly moved millimeter by millimeter with his walker, till he finally reached the car, and they helped him in, pulling away his four legs and tossing it into the backseat. I’d looked at him with all the defiance I could gather, and told him that I will never see

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530497596294032005-12-13T22:20:00.000-05:002005-12-13T22:21:37.600-05:00

Archived 'Lost'PostsMon Apr 29, 06:55:45 AM, 2002 Children enter into bubbles quite easily. That’s because adults are probably too busy with pragmatism and their other ‘isms’ to be convinced of the bubble’s existence. Science is blamed for giving birth to pragmatists. It’s a ‘show’ and ‘hence proved’ scenario. But science is also magic. And I believe on that more strongly when I gaze at the

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1134530404168287242005-12-13T22:18:00.002-05:002010-10-01T14:48:42.011-04:00

Archived 'Lost' PostsFri Jan 11, 05:14:04 AM, 2002 I create a bubble around me. I call it my SPACE. It has gargoyles in it, and flying carpets amongst other things, and at times it really can get pretty crowded. When it gets too crowded, all that is needed is a chant from the outside about how things inside are too cut off from the outside.. and the bubble bursts.The good thing about these

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1116568798821746962005-05-20T01:59:00.000-04:002005-05-20T02:08:47.613-04:00

There's nothing more fulfilling than stealing a kiss from a sleeping child.

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1116300296526072792005-05-16T23:20:00.000-04:002005-05-23T16:39:06.663-04:00

The Unfinished Melody II Many a days of torrid rains,Of bleeding hearts and butchered souls,Her eyes stone cold and in another world,I watched helpless as she put up a fight,A bird trapped at the eve of its flight. He’d wrung her neck like a tattered cloth,Stamped over her face and broke her jaw,Smiling sunflower, I called my precious one,As she yelped and writhed in pain,All

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1116048140324015652005-05-14T01:21:00.000-04:002005-05-23T16:40:58.096-04:00

The Unfinished Melody Many years has she lived,A stranger to the life that she leadsThe promise of an unfinished melodyWould let her make peaceWith this stranger that lives her life.There’s a certain charm to unfinished things…But an unfinished she?Grim is the time that he reaps his cropHacking his way

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1092382954948824062004-08-13T03:41:00.000-04:002004-08-13T03:42:34.946-04:00

Pd’s Little Princess There are performers, who claim to be there by you till eternity and scurry when they see the slightest signs of shaking grounds, and there are others who stick by you and I guess move on when something better comes along. I have a friend who instead watches from the stands, a silent spectator to all these performers, and comes and heals each time these performers

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1092030744819478192004-08-09T01:51:00.000-04:002004-08-09T03:01:08.156-04:00

My Zen Coach Right now I am struggling to wind up a never ending thesis. Sometimes its funny the way something which is second nature to you becomes a Herculean task when you don those calipers and measure it to a nanometer for perfection, even before the words fall onto the paper. As if you fear that what falls might not be the perfect piece of work that you would like it to be, or

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1089710080383163232004-07-13T05:14:00.000-04:002004-07-13T05:35:15.063-04:00

Fears I wonder at times how much does it take to let go of ones fears. We live our lives surrounded by a ring of what ifs.. what if I get socked by the bully next door.. what if I fall and break my neck if I tried roller blading.. what if I drowned while swimming.. these trivialities concretize over years and get etched into our system. A fear, fear of being hurt. And we start living a life

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1088753166790377842004-07-02T03:26:00.000-04:002004-07-02T03:26:06.790-04:00

dumbstruck... or is it stuck? :-) 

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1088750000348381332004-07-02T02:31:00.000-04:002004-07-02T02:33:20.346-04:00

29th June It was my mother’s birthday on 29th June… the entire day went by with me trying not think about her.. its funny the way birth and death almost go hand in hand, almost like stealthy silhouettes of two long lost lovers shimmering in the moonlight, reminding you that life is but a temporal shift from one to another.. the last birthday we celebrated was a surprise for her… my friends

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1083037324339366502004-04-26T23:42:00.000-04:002004-04-26T23:45:07.780-04:00

Over a somber sunset We sit and muse On what lies ahead And what slipped us by. The flowers In melancholy laugh And tenderly You reach out For a dewdrop And smile bemused Watching it fall. As the sun tiptoes I make a cutout Of circled smoke rings A misty window To tangles within. Slippery and moist As the path unfolds Uncertain I walk Muted you watch. Stealthily the night falls We pick our

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274543.post-1081819712233697642004-04-12T21:28:00.000-04:002005-06-13T18:43:00.500-04:00

THE ENDThis is the endBeautiful friendThis is the endMy only friend, the endIt hurts to set you freeBut you'll never follow meThe end of laughter and soft liesThe end of nights we tried to dieThis is the end.- The DoorsThank you all who have been coming here regularly/once-in-while/once-in-a-blue moon/ever and going through my writings.

k a n u r i t enoreply@blogger.com