The years pass by.

But a dreamer remains a dreamer no matter how far she runs away.

Maybe it is time for you all to embrace her as she is too. She's tired of hiding.

S-peachy

I'd like to thank the Innernet, Lhr, MSN, Visa, Vaio, Wi-fi, DSL, Kleenex. I can't forget my advisory board: See see, RP, AJ, Ellie this wasn't possible without you.

And of course it goes without saying: Mummy Papa. You may not know this as yet but really this wouldn't have been possible without your bank account.

I love you all! *draws hearts*

Of despair and disrepair.

I write not of that house.

Of red terracotta tiles and black iron bars. Of 10 bedrooms and a library. Of two swings and a mango tree. Of 4 loyal dogs and a lawn. Of chhui muui and a lily pond.

I write not for I fear. I fear these anxieties once brought alive. Shall seal the fate of that house.

And yours with it.

Write to me the missing line. Someday?

" Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone
I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head, I don't know what to think "

The skies over a fog invested island have become dotted with pink snorts.

And if you follow the placid river. Past the towering bridge and the glittering loot. Past where the tin man now sits in spray-can copper. Past where the wigs are flung in arguments. Where the river slims. You shall see.

You shall see. That her feet have finally grown wings.

Circle's end.

There is sadness in the slow movement of her limbs. Much more than when her heart had been subjected to the unaffected.

Sometimes she wishes to slash the intermittent pages that led her to this lonely walk. Mostly she just wishes to strangle what remains of her voice.

Today you helped her put that pillow over the feeble chords till they were muffled into silence.

Don't let it hurt you too much. If you must know, all that talking the last few months, has mostly been empty chatter to fill up the air in the room.

It helped her to not feel all that there has been to.

16

It's a happy hour here again. I feel like a hindi movie funky song with you.

Won't you ever learn to dance?
Or woo my heart?

Ashubh

Tha tumhara andekha, khule dhule humare yeh kuch dhage
Phir phir baarish ko dekhe mann mein tumhari yaad sataye.

Sick leave.

Prolonged indecision sits in you like a monsoon bug.

Your stomach is turned empty. Your mouth feels foul with bile clinging to your taste buds. Long after you've washed down two glasses of water and Gravol.

The bug rejoices somewhere deep in your intestines. While you lay weak on your bed hair matted on your forehead. Sweat creasing your back. Nausea making you hate having tasted the Veggie burger. Making you wish you could throw up the very last drop of water so your stomach wouldn't have anything sitting uneasily in it killing your nausea. Atleast for a while.

If only indecision could be flushed out as easily as vomit.

Sometimes, Libra also means an illness.

In May

To perch upon a cherry blossom
And coo to her heart's content.

Rows of fluffy pinks
Dispersed with blotches of magenta ink.

Her heart does a dance
So little so wee.

She laughs she whirls
Like honey pots and a bear

So full with glee.