Travels – Hansal mehta

September 29, 2011

Mundane

Man. Wife. Two sons. One daughter. A tata car. Packets of masala wafers. Immersed. In meaningless. Group activities. In pointless. Logistics. Clicking away. Creating memories. Unable. To savor. To enjoy. To reflect. To meditate. A facade. Of happiness. A picture. Of togetherness. Makes me. Suffocate. I hope. They leave. A selfish thought. I hate. Being

Getting Stoned

Stoned last night. Saw clearly. Smiled honestly. Laughed openly. Dissipated anger. Accumulated bitterness. Unadulterated lust. Unbridled love. Unconditional existence. All there. In the clouds. Shining through the stars. Emanating from the flowers. Rustling through the trees. Then I wake up. With a headache. With little recollection. With half a smile. From a dreamless night. Awaiting

Hotel Anguish

Screaming outside my hotel room. A restless night. Culminating. In helpless screams. Of unknown people. Anguished. Full of unrest. Strangers. With disparate identities. With or without homes. With or without family. Strangely restless souls. Put together. By an ignorant hotel manager. On the same floor. Or is it. My imagination. Going wild. Wallowing. In sympathy.