tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29654183242716069402024-03-14T02:03:20.012+05:30i can aim for the sky but i cannot fly...sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-75966951842008016052009-07-27T17:25:00.001+05:302009-07-27T17:25:53.838+05:30Moved Out!So I have moved to another blogger space, you can now find me <a href="http://mumblesandwaffles.wordpress.com/">here</a>... :))sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-67457115711802828452009-04-23T04:41:00.002+05:302009-04-23T04:50:50.047+05:30...<div>for her the crystal rivers sing <br /></div><div>for her the sweet lover sweet tidings brings</div><div>for her the saffron clad heroes swing</div><div>for her the rainbow in a teardrop lingers</div><div>for her the colours merge vibrant red</div><div>for her the water runs into blood</div><div>for her the red teardrop dies in a stain</div><div>for her the anger, the anger burns...</div><div><br /></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-4844220308516660712008-11-25T06:03:00.002+05:302008-11-25T06:17:17.806+05:30unispired language<br />unfinished conversations she said...<br />the world around her disappeared<br />its only a painted canvas distraught...<br />stretched ahead a pathless journey<br />sparks of empty time and crowded space...<br />the twisted flames of sleepless nights<br />she tries in vain to sculpt herself...sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-53389300367277522602008-02-29T22:59:00.000+05:302008-02-29T23:00:57.904+05:30<div align="justify">I just read a series of letters written to a dead person. A series of letters written by a wife to her husband. A series of letters written by a loving wife to her husband who was killed by her own son. A series of letters that took me through the goriest recesses of the mind of a blank boy, his blank mother, and my own blank self. For a moment or a few more I would rather dismiss all of it, the world itself as “horseshit”. Kevin was not sure of surety a few years after the sordid Thursday became the Thursday. A stack of unaddressed envelopes with letters that explore and force to explore is what I found surrounding the emptiness around me. I will not name the book for fear of taking an experience away from the incidental few who may read this post. However, if the fictitious few who read this post have also read what I just got done reading know the hurt from an arrow shot from the bow of shallow consumerism.<br /><br />I will write more on the subject once I have recovered from the initial blow of Lionel Shriver’s attack.</div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-9630130545122512132007-07-15T00:56:00.000+05:302007-07-17T02:23:19.806+05:30psyche<div>quite random....but i like what came off the randomness.. :) </div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_K1cVYuB5_c93NFuwUp8l4vvAFReyGWL23dFwIA7HlxCyNjyUprSLOSLqf06-VGYM0PDscWK-xSoNCk5wCaR252rb9Zs4PxHXS6zYsEAHF9rllqO1bMCgYP5sRIx-cljl0jTp2KBRGo/s1600-h/paint4.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087900507664712834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_K1cVYuB5_c93NFuwUp8l4vvAFReyGWL23dFwIA7HlxCyNjyUprSLOSLqf06-VGYM0PDscWK-xSoNCk5wCaR252rb9Zs4PxHXS6zYsEAHF9rllqO1bMCgYP5sRIx-cljl0jTp2KBRGo/s400/paint4.png" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZjySjEa93K1SFZq98B7pdPIM-4ky3gUHbkpxgbRl4hH29xsfOU-IquDP83bwym9fAPh7Y-kevr_nLG5zs0NfhvhZPaW8Nc5EHAZdcx4nMU7GGJrMhdIIv76zibdWlTPinFgfixHNU6g/s1600-h/paint2.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087503601146954866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZjySjEa93K1SFZq98B7pdPIM-4ky3gUHbkpxgbRl4hH29xsfOU-IquDP83bwym9fAPh7Y-kevr_nLG5zs0NfhvhZPaW8Nc5EHAZdcx4nMU7GGJrMhdIIv76zibdWlTPinFgfixHNU6g/s400/paint2.png" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkF6pamh2pf4mBjtxDLdMaK1Doy37_xG8eH65sxHcFkPjaZPwzVH5akXqYbSPEj0GJ0eGK8CwwFPszk3M6Pq6P0FOKYNOVK1lsFwC3wN_Y0K7AToGqKT1KlTIuE70WO0QzZq46xszAHM/s1600-h/paint1.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087409326614807650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkF6pamh2pf4mBjtxDLdMaK1Doy37_xG8eH65sxHcFkPjaZPwzVH5akXqYbSPEj0GJ0eGK8CwwFPszk3M6Pq6P0FOKYNOVK1lsFwC3wN_Y0K7AToGqKT1KlTIuE70WO0QzZq46xszAHM/s400/paint1.png" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ0uOFqJ6tw7c-Za4yB6clDge0tw9TTdmBpCnDkgcSd08X1Ko52LbwCcOzyGajU2RkCRHz6jgfBE-9iSB7NtaeC_JtxRpm689Yv3to7hFe_XVbcMlC63nWlK2CjypMwwRvtgvD-x7Q_I/s1600-h/paint.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087136866774451282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ0uOFqJ6tw7c-Za4yB6clDge0tw9TTdmBpCnDkgcSd08X1Ko52LbwCcOzyGajU2RkCRHz6jgfBE-9iSB7NtaeC_JtxRpm689Yv3to7hFe_XVbcMlC63nWlK2CjypMwwRvtgvD-x7Q_I/s400/paint.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-32711471039823604182007-07-12T22:36:00.000+05:302007-07-12T22:41:24.916+05:30jim morrison<div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">The grand highway</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">is</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">crowded</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">w/</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">lovers</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">&</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">searchers</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">&</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">leavers</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">so</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">eager</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">to</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">please</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">&</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">forget.</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Wilderness</span></strong></em></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="left">note: thanks <a href="http://purple-nights-on-fire.blogspot.com/">blow</a> for introducing me to this man who's messing up my head...i'm loving it ;)</div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-59493251118948933322007-07-12T16:34:00.000+05:302007-07-12T16:41:02.739+05:30hahahaha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuTPz22rtSYzaFCflPnDscwEt3kFCLqhNPknwl4hvfJQj1N5OEeAs1vo3gxfvhC7yJmWEvvHGD1s3_RlekLyjixMInUxOQEDARfJdauv19AoHmCap30Yzhe_l1-_B-a3h7BI4KowA6aU/s1600-h/C+%26+H.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086264923988853826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRuTPz22rtSYzaFCflPnDscwEt3kFCLqhNPknwl4hvfJQj1N5OEeAs1vo3gxfvhC7yJmWEvvHGD1s3_RlekLyjixMInUxOQEDARfJdauv19AoHmCap30Yzhe_l1-_B-a3h7BI4KowA6aU/s400/C+%26+H.gif" border="0" /></a><br />love calvin!!<br /><br />kudos to Bill Waterson for creating Clavin and Hobbes....who would not relate to these two...<br /><br />To read some of the best Calvin and Hobbes Strips <a href="http://www.progressiveboink.com/archive/calvinhobbes.htm">click here</a>.sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-84154161694017209782007-07-09T22:40:00.000+05:302007-07-09T22:48:59.409+05:30The Lies You Are Told Are True<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMjjP8NpQqt4_gl1AN7X6hu7Qte0o4FLSK8M1f9Wfm1SrVUVxr1RMCgtaTSRB2rpF_rRfI4cMWku-GN5ptNaMfk3TIhcPLIyZeB8f1pumePvZ8UVH5l4l09hqPzJ9Sulgxb1gfuXiwdo/s1600-h/wintersron.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085247774286409330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMjjP8NpQqt4_gl1AN7X6hu7Qte0o4FLSK8M1f9Wfm1SrVUVxr1RMCgtaTSRB2rpF_rRfI4cMWku-GN5ptNaMfk3TIhcPLIyZeB8f1pumePvZ8UVH5l4l09hqPzJ9Sulgxb1gfuXiwdo/s200/wintersron.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;"></span></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;"><a href="http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/pages/content/index.asp?PageID=14">(from Winterson's 'Sexing the Cherry')</a></span></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;"></span></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;"></span></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 1:</span> There is only one present and nothing to remember.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 2:</span> Time is a straight line.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><a href="http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/pages/content/index.asp?PageID=14"></a></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 3:</span> The difference between the past and the future is that one has happened while the other has not.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 4:</span> We can only be in one place at one time.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 5:</span> Any proposition that contains the word 'finite' (the world, the universe, experience, ourselves...)</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 6:</span> Reality as something which can be agreed upon.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"></span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">Lie 7: </span>Reality as truth.</span></em></strong></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-75965168355866014702007-06-27T17:18:00.000+05:302007-06-27T17:54:02.401+05:30fettered freedom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqw1w8f1DduqsS1yetMj3qg2EyIuw-UhM2q2SfvMwMJdFIcYx6OcZa60MdGbRY2kt1K4l75K-2bDUjv-fmOQSornKT03suUlpHLH9EkB1oawbXJQ54PqWwUOgPLfWyd0W-aYqMLfIDoyA/s1600-h/mind.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080718761337548386" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqw1w8f1DduqsS1yetMj3qg2EyIuw-UhM2q2SfvMwMJdFIcYx6OcZa60MdGbRY2kt1K4l75K-2bDUjv-fmOQSornKT03suUlpHLH9EkB1oawbXJQ54PqWwUOgPLfWyd0W-aYqMLfIDoyA/s200/mind.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the mind -</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>a scoop of rainbow</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>in the summer sky,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the softness of the salt</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>in a teardrop,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the choked voice</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>in a suffocated throat,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the elixir off the fountain </em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>in the forbidden terrain of innocence.</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the mind -</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the wings of a unicorn</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the golden glint in the eye of the dragon</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the darkness of the dungeon of death</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the black grey silver of life</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the only open window</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the only locked door</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the only prison</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>the only cascading river</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong><em>... the mind</em></strong></span></div></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-32770079890311693852007-06-26T22:26:00.000+05:302007-06-26T22:41:35.442+05:30blistered<div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>haze in perpetuity</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>inebriation to be forgiven</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>it's the state of sanity</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>deserving persecution</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>incantations galore</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>repeating the repetition</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>momentlessness</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>nonetheless survival</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>survival of the fittest?</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>no oppurtunity but that</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>suspended in a second</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>a second in a second</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>time captured by time</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>these are walled</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>by transparent walls</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>merciless walls</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>hope will linger</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>be the flame </strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>on the dying waxed wick</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>mirage of choice</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>breathless illusions</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>hallucinations illusions</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>fingers spinning</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>webs of complacency</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>a series</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>a circle</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><em><strong>loops within looops within loops...</strong></em></span></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-52730357896477927762007-06-18T03:07:00.000+05:302007-06-18T03:12:23.103+05:30...haze...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMRR819eb2tB72mw7XMI_IhIggg9jbvElQmwmVRbuIXFxTW3CjPsZgiXSZ8okH1PkfeBDTmmB0YXJ7FTA9RZN7PTsZEK_LcUbed2VOBKCXmZ82CgAE_ydFHbj_0eQVqcXVTBlfXu1kS8/s1600-h/haze.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077151619390888370" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMRR819eb2tB72mw7XMI_IhIggg9jbvElQmwmVRbuIXFxTW3CjPsZgiXSZ8okH1PkfeBDTmmB0YXJ7FTA9RZN7PTsZEK_LcUbed2VOBKCXmZ82CgAE_ydFHbj_0eQVqcXVTBlfXu1kS8/s320/haze.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><strong><span style="color:#660000;"><em>The senses need to be numbed.</em></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Does it happen to you?</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">You did everything that you do everyday.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">You even interacted with people.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Laughed, felt irritated, got angry, laughed some more.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Yet, at the end of a few days...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">You just remember vignettes off the past few days...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Disjointed, without any sequence or chronology to them</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Like in a dream...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Like the frames of postmodern cinema...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Like the last few days were for me...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;"><em>Maybe the overworked senses protested and went numb on their own.<br /></em></span></strong><a class="link" href="http://adhiira.blogspot.com/2007/06/haze.html#comments" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color:#660000;"></span></strong></a></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-3588859182343543792007-06-13T14:33:00.001+05:302007-06-13T14:39:30.876+05:30paintbrush :)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkaWbGZxsJsul-uovyB-9e2wwsiUVfTqIY0v9J-Pb9Ycv3ease84XWpRoKltlhnVvEUEdyagvYr9aErCfd7OKbBEqdx_ZIg0cdn9o5r4ofAh-e2987adzSPd0unNoy95uJZxodKIXSFc/s1600-h/moi.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075473038797429122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkaWbGZxsJsul-uovyB-9e2wwsiUVfTqIY0v9J-Pb9Ycv3ease84XWpRoKltlhnVvEUEdyagvYr9aErCfd7OKbBEqdx_ZIg0cdn9o5r4ofAh-e2987adzSPd0unNoy95uJZxodKIXSFc/s400/moi.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmie_kAyiOaZwJQo9QhyAhYGrzT1TZWZtcNbNh1Ntdt-uLBldBvwD8tNk-R7DTdh39Um4ZYP7XR_0w9w3-Dfe81DLy6VqWHDeYcYll94u9KBOMlEtxiv52AuNA4H-ry1Lzp_8WTCs21Vc/s1600-h/man+and+woman.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075472922833312114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmie_kAyiOaZwJQo9QhyAhYGrzT1TZWZtcNbNh1Ntdt-uLBldBvwD8tNk-R7DTdh39Um4ZYP7XR_0w9w3-Dfe81DLy6VqWHDeYcYll94u9KBOMlEtxiv52AuNA4H-ry1Lzp_8WTCs21Vc/s400/man+and+woman.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-7724914934438382142007-06-13T14:32:00.000+05:302007-06-13T15:21:56.538+05:30Poetry<div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Not from labour does it peek,<br />The rhythm of an uncouth me<br />Within a me.<br />It would be simpler if ink could gallop<br />Not without reigns.<br />Yet it escapes.<br />The black sense of the floating black letters<br />Resist the fetters resist a rhyme<br />Reading the beyond, yearning to meet.<br />Clandestine – that’s what it is.<br />The river is constant<br />About all but one.<br />Diffident of constancy<br />Seeking as it flows.<br /></span></strong></em></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-91827004590879079172007-06-13T14:29:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:44:29.497+05:30Figment<div align="center"><em><strong><span style="color:#006600;">Deception of the mind,<br />Or a silhouette escaping the shadow?<br />Language untraceable,<br />Fire of a fluid frame,<br />Waiting for the raindrop,<br />To capture an eternity.<br /><br />Ashes to ashes,<br />Dust to dust,<br />Speaketh she no more<br />Just the silent lust.<br />Fantasies fables folklore,<br />All they rust.<br /><br />The voice of the nothing<br />Aching to speak,<br />Namelessness of the pain --<br />Invisible abyss.<br />I – no voice but just the I.<br /> </span></strong></em></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-31537659975904043312007-05-31T23:29:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:44:29.497+05:30she spoke but then...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUY2r18sJXQt8bQz-wzQQf16j6S0gWgvCIKm-lmt9jlsavxf0ff6w927c4OGnxsxYQSnV9jT8njuN1-hiRYgY3SeqKg4MpGntfi1xNrGiUROHfxZo6wdCTH7NBNn7a6QeqRZN8HhHV1Y/s1600-h/empty.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070793051708971042" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUY2r18sJXQt8bQz-wzQQf16j6S0gWgvCIKm-lmt9jlsavxf0ff6w927c4OGnxsxYQSnV9jT8njuN1-hiRYgY3SeqKg4MpGntfi1xNrGiUROHfxZo6wdCTH7NBNn7a6QeqRZN8HhHV1Y/s200/empty.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em><span style="font-size:0;"></span><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em></em></strong></span>lay strangled</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>the death drone drumming in her ear</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>the air</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>morbid pungent</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>hollow promises</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>floating </em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>rotting in their guts</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>the dirge of </em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>the black waters</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>i</em></strong></span><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>nhaling the </em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>fragmented red shards of her being</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>words extinguished</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>in shadows</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>illumined grey</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>words slayed</em></strong></span> </div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>violated </em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>extinct</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>silence reigns</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>unscathed</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>unbidden</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>unchallenged</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>stoned memories</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>disappearing in liquid flames</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>dancing</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>celebrating</em></strong></span><br /></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>pyre of hope</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><em>but she spoke...</em></strong></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-23756011746861389392007-05-24T12:27:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:44:29.497+05:30silence was sleeping when...<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztnjQTTJAZy16F8vrqVzDru64sZSMg4dOtOSKWAtap1jCDa4ZOw6aSDhD9_7ShRMAwpvwBWSa-52YK7oJ-7X6MRb6oHzuXk3cxMD3kNITiIq4hI-ddN03Bo-v57-FF9xGkPUY9ROwZLA/s1600-h/butterflies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068045750108280770" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztnjQTTJAZy16F8vrqVzDru64sZSMg4dOtOSKWAtap1jCDa4ZOw6aSDhD9_7ShRMAwpvwBWSa-52YK7oJ-7X6MRb6oHzuXk3cxMD3kNITiIq4hI-ddN03Bo-v57-FF9xGkPUY9ROwZLA/s320/butterflies.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"><em>she spoke<br />words ran<br />basked in the sun<br />stole fruits<br />teased butterflies<br />nectar off the flowers<br />dew off the grass<br />they swam<br />in the clear<br />blue air<br />the ripples they made<br />drew people<br />used brushes<br />they shaped<br />she spoke<br />words played<br />hide and seek<br />myriad colours<br />angry red<br />shy black<br />innocent yellow<br />purple that rebel<br />and blue<br />my favourite<br />her favourite<br />she spoke<br />words galloped<br />they swam<br />they played<br />breathless<br />panting<br />sweating<br />troubled<br />embarassed<br />fervent<br />nervous<br />shy<br />contemplative<br />thinking<br />slowing down<br />sitting<br />catching their breath<br />calming down<br />they sleep<br />unsound<br />awakening tired silence<br />but she did speak</em></span></strong></div></div></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-79417974598417240092007-05-19T22:51:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:45:35.441+05:30<em><strong><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#663366;">I have trouble writing.<br /><br />It's ok when I have a question paper in front of me and know exactly what words are expected to fill the pages. It's ok when I have been assigned a topic to write on. On occasions like these I have a hard time staying within the assigned word limit.<br /><br />How do I write about myself or my self.....<br /><br />It's tough.<br />It's taxing.<br />It's gruelling.<br />It's almost masochistic.<br /><br />I will be judged. The words that I have strung together will be evaluated. I perspire. Will I pass the test. Will people like what I have written. More importantly, will I be proud of what I have written a few months from now...<br /><br />Writing for me is masochistic....<br />and this blog is a proof of my exhibitionist tendencies....</span></strong></em>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-82295106288588176052007-04-23T02:00:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:45:35.441+05:30<span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#000066;"><em><strong>I've been told that I'm expected to write only good literary stuff....ahem! that's a tall order. For all those who are uninitiated into the world of literary horrors, literature is no lay person's cup of tea. </strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>You have to develop the perseverence to sit through hours of staring at a black wall... for that is what the black print of your monster text begins to seem after a few hours. You need training, mind you, this is tougher than treading the treadmill or those excruciating crunches....for without training you would have lost the weight of your senses in less than two hours. Literary theory (for that is what intellectually stimulating literary stuff is made of), also requires you to acquire decoding skills, for here, as some understand, the sheer complexity of the structural pattern and its correct syntactical representation with right amount of verbosity thrown in, makes good literary work.</strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>*humph*</strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>Yes.It's certainly not my cup of tea.</strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>For those who vote against all that stands for high literary acumen, cast your votes.</strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>One vote casted!Win by majority.Only high gibberical talent of the highly lay order allowed....</strong></em></span></span></span>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-14855001615542680742007-04-23T01:57:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:45:35.441+05:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuS8PD_oNKMNzlqRCT4dQwv4koQAc3Nym_wup8CHrpzGcBvP6yCuQ-bTOOaFc6UI69SfwcdC6QbOhpY92RCgNSRfTPWTXiuTK_Cl3p0kk5axRteGrL4cOXgUewNRIFg4YuXiWKKWoS98/s1600-h/bulb.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068046858209843154" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuS8PD_oNKMNzlqRCT4dQwv4koQAc3Nym_wup8CHrpzGcBvP6yCuQ-bTOOaFc6UI69SfwcdC6QbOhpY92RCgNSRfTPWTXiuTK_Cl3p0kk5axRteGrL4cOXgUewNRIFg4YuXiWKKWoS98/s320/bulb.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#660000;">René Descartes said "I think therefore I am"</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#660000;">hmmm.....</span></em></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#660000;">"i do therefore i am...and shall be till i don't" :-) ;-)</span></em></strong></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2965418324271606940.post-87918264545556330452007-04-23T01:52:00.000+05:302007-06-13T14:45:35.441+05:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc02uVwN6zNyIsLwNwhyphenhyphenva-gRM8IeKQEoHxQqmpDUPx4gtPJaytamCxp6KxPpAe6oACk-wpr_Hq8h9SIVUAt7Kos9Zdl0ZbHaxp-El4jEDmYV8qijfn7nKLmi8PgEi4n26thqMKjD99V0/s1600-h/breathe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068047734383171570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc02uVwN6zNyIsLwNwhyphenhyphenva-gRM8IeKQEoHxQqmpDUPx4gtPJaytamCxp6KxPpAe6oACk-wpr_Hq8h9SIVUAt7Kos9Zdl0ZbHaxp-El4jEDmYV8qijfn7nKLmi8PgEi4n26thqMKjD99V0/s320/breathe.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#009900;">nascent.....</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#009900;">...change</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#009900;">breathe....</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div>sanyuktahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12272768257907493864noreply@blogger.com2