aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: March 2014
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2014_03_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Sunday, March 16, 2014. Do you think if you didn’t know. That a border lay in between. That you could tell apart. These grass green fields? What’s theirs and what’s ours? Which is this side, and which is that? Pat came the reply, no. And I don’t think I should want to. We were one once,. And I think just that knowledge,. For now, should do. They gather in hoards,. Everyday. Come hail or heat. They smile and take their seats. Men and women apart,. Their hands move to the beat.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: July 2013
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2013_07_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Wednesday, July 24, 2013. I sometimes wonder, why is it that, after a point in time, we become so used to being detached from things, and people? As kids, we know that we're connected to everyone around it. It's supposed to be like one big, happy family. Somehow, the idea of one person being a whole seems to make more sense as we go along. Do we really learn how to attach ourselves so that we know detachment when it stares us in the face? Your heart's a mess. It makes no sense.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: November 2012
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2012_11_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Tuesday, November 13, 2012. Love Such a strong emotional state that can overpower every pore and the very core of the being. Though it is Diwali today, I can't not discuss the meaning and influence of love on me, especially because I've just watched the biggest tribute to love - Jab Tak Hai Jaan. Technically labelled Yash Chopra's swansong, it is truly what one would call, 'saving the best for last.' Being a huge fan of his treatment of romance [and who wouldn't be? Come and go,.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: December 2012
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2012_12_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Saturday, December 1, 2012. My year starts in January,. All warm and fuzzy and bright. The days are all so Spring-y,. Calm and cool are the nights. Spring gives way to summer,. And heat rises to the highest grade,. But just then the summer scorches down,. And all I do is hunt for shade. I drench myself in monsoon air. And raindrops that incessantly pour. The weather seems to drown me,. I wonder why, and how much more. Autumn tries to calm me,. And I look around me.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: February 2014
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2014_02_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Thursday, February 27, 2014. They splay out the risks. In swift lines and. You know it all. But you do it anyway. They feel at ease. Nestled in the comfort. That, at least. They did their bit. And undo their doing. Somewhere, in a dark,. And dangerous corner,. A mind is at work -. And you just sit there. Half-busily turning the pages. They gnaw at you. And you hope for a sign. The signal goes amber. And you speed off. Tomorrow, around your remains. That they discuss in headlines,.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: PARTED
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2014/03/parted.html
View my complete profile. Sunday, March 16, 2014. Do you think if you didn’t know. That a border lay in between. That you could tell apart. These grass green fields? What’s theirs and what’s ours? Which is this side, and which is that? Pat came the reply, no. And I don’t think I should want to. We were one once,. And I think just that knowledge,. For now, should do. They gather in hoards,. Everyday. Come hail or heat. They smile and take their seats. Men and women apart,. Their hands move to the beat.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: 2 a.m. Phone Call
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2014/04/2-am-phone-call.html
View my complete profile. Wednesday, April 16, 2014. 2 am Phone Call. Today we’ll call it death. Death of the night. The television still rings in her eyes. The neon lights deafen her still. Past the point of no return. She smells in the air. The hope, lingering. She’ll sleep in an hour more. She’ll kill another minute. Knives of iron-clad will,. And soft brushes of the wind. To finish off the top coat. It’s done. Or so she thinks. Maybe there’s another battle. Somewhere on the horizon. 2 am Phone Call.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: October 2013
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Tuesday, October 22, 2013. Takti rahi andher nagri mein. Woh chaand nazar na aaya. Jo pichhli raat, armaano ko,. Meri galli la kar muskaya. Keh raha, intezaar mein raho mere. Ummeedo ka savera hoon,. Par jab tak suraj nahin jagta,. Bekaar, raho mere. Keh raha, mere deedar ko tarasti iss bhookh ko. Apne deedo ko ikraar se bhigati pyaas ko. Aankhon mein bharna seekho. Kasme vaade, saare saje. Iss thaal mein tumhari,. Sindoor se bhari maang mein. Pichhli raat ko chaand aaya.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: December 2013
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2013_12_01_archive.html
View my complete profile. Friday, December 20, 2013. In my mind, like a memory. I find it, growing,. Manifesting into an itch. On my skin, begging me. To lean in for relief. I make a ripple on the surface. Clawing tensely into the abyss. Retaining it in my grasp -. Lest I lose it, lest I forget. A tender fear pulsates. With censure, remorse. And in painful regret. A familiar touch beckons. Tugging me across bounds. Waiting for me to give in. There is a rustling among the sheets. Lies between and beneath.
aakritianand.blogspot.com
QUIRKY DAYS: A Good Day
http://aakritianand.blogspot.com/2014/04/a.html
View my complete profile. Sunday, April 13, 2014. It is a good day. To look at life, unbungled. Free of traffic jams. In the concrete jungles. Full of spring air. It is indeed a good day. Its a good day to figure. Plans for today and. And not its companion sorrow. Its a good day indeed. To figure ourselves into life. Its a good day. To chronicle the big disappointments. Death, war, destruction. Its a good day indeed, to be. And yet let it not be seen. For these good days are. Often few and far between.
