Photo by Sacre Bleu on Unsplash

My Friend

My window looks out onto a shaded enclosed parking lot and the bluish grey wall of a building with square openings punched out that reveal two pipes snaking up the building. It’s a surprisingly calming view. I cannot see even a sliver of the sky, but there’s an…

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How much do we really know about building a life ? It is something we all fall into, this thing called Life. We come totally unprepared and battle furiously trying to figure out our role in this huge canvas and what we are expected to do. There are times that…

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It is dusk, and I think of sinking into a sofa that’s the colour of burnt orange. This colour floods my mind with warmth, unlike lavender which makes me feel claustrophobic and white which makes me feel empty.

Burnt orange is pumpkins and autumn. It’s a calico cat snoozing in a patch of sunshine. There’s the fragrance of woodsmoke and a faint trace of spices.

Burnt orange is also the colour of all the love I have lost.

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Today I found a resolution to a question that was haunting me for the longest time. It was the thought of all the knowledge and information out there in the world that I could never hope to acquire in my lifetime. What would I do without all this pertinent data…

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I have a friend who yawns every time he talks to me on the phone. One day I thought of capturing his yawns and storing them in a glass bottle. I told him that yawns are suppressed yearnings, and the only reply I got was a slice of silent disbelief…

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I am sliding in quietly, back into my promised posts; as though I haven’t been away for days, as though I haven’t been searching for parts of myself that I felt had slipped away.

I have decided to collect words. I shall weave them into my poems and stories and nonsensical ramblings. I plan to collect words like children collect shells. Have you noticed children picking seashells on the beach ? They select all kinds, the broken ones, the chunky ones, the pretty, the colourless, the incomplete and the ugliest. Adults pick only the beautiful shells, with pale pleasing colours and rounded edges.

I’ll take all the words that defy convention, something that I personally have never been able to do. Maybe they will nudge me onto a path that I’ve been loathe to tread. Maybe they will be picking me rather than the other way round.

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If there’s a place where my dreams go to roost, will there be ghostly banyan trees where my nightmares hang upside down like immigrant bats; trying to make sense of a world gone topsy turvy in a place not of their own. I would much prefer to think of my…

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I’m reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book ‘Big Magic’,and its keeping me going on this writing journey. I was seriously contemplating giving up this daily writing process. I had trotted out the usual reasons to convince myself — no one reads what I write; what good will this do for me; why…

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Anjana

Anjana

14 Followers

Would like nothing better than to wrap myself in a blanket of words and watch the world go by; since life’s never that compliant I try to write instead.