I am going home... it is Asthami! There is a beautiful dawn breaking.... home is where the heart is.. heart is where home is :)

I am sitting in my room... it is bitterly cold. A gloomy evening is giving way to a gloomier night.. HRI is where work is.... work is where HRI is!

You would be amazed to know that I take refuge to pathetically silly Hindi songs to get rid of the gloom at times. Sometimes good music can make you think. Here you would not want to think, especially if you are not in the best of moods. Here you also would not want to write.... but I am making a sort of trade off... bad music and self indulgent writing...! A4 sheets of paper are looking at me though the curves of my bed partner... a red red quilt!

The train picks up speed... the wind lashes into my face. I have been told that I should not be standing at the doors of trains. But between the love and the concern of words, there is always that call of the wild, the call of the wind.... I love the sound of the train when it runs to Howrah through Bengal.... I love that wild wild embrace of the wind.. cold mornings near home.. near, but not quite there yet. I am recording my conversation with the train.. it is a one-way one though. I am not talking... and the train seems to be saying the same thing to all the rest of the people. But you are not me. You can only hear what the train tells you. And she tells me more... :)

The wind loves playing with my hair...

"They call the wind Maria"

Someone should tell Maria that I have chopped off my hair... and bring back that pearl from her eyes........ would you?

Forgotten Conversations

"When you can fall for chains of silver,
You can fall for chains of gold,
You can fall for pretty strangers,
And the promises they hold."

Sleep... no... walk with me to where the wind never stops.. follow me to those walls where the white does not blend with the red and makes them taste of salt in a bowl of milk. I don't like milk, don't like salt in it even more. So, lead me to the streets where the world descends in the day.... before the break of day. Look at me... look and look away. Tell me about that lonely moment on that hot day. And forget about the time of the day that I don't like. Because it might be that time of the day.... and like the grains of sand you hold in your palm... it might also be slowly slipping away.. don't talk unless you have to... don't walk unless you want to.

An Incomplete Murder!

I am a serial killer.... and at the moment I am thinking of killing the person in charge of our computer system. You would ask how can a person possibly take up the job of managing the computer system of a bunch of serial killers and in answering that the whole blog is going to go downhill. This was supposed to be a brilliant metaphor and an excellent post but our pathetic Internet speed has screwed up my mood!

So,.... I was supposed to tell you about the contract killer that I am. I was going to tell you that there was this particular thing that I was assigned to kill and how it kept evading me for months. The moment I thought that I had the bastard nailed, there was some divine (?!) intervention and the chap would escape. I even had the gun ready for a while. Now I guess the bullet is finally through the brain. But as they say,- it ain't over till the fat lady sings. Where I live, there sure is a dearth of women. But, I dare say, I have a feeling I would find what I am looking for.

This is a scattered post.. I am hoping to put the final nails into the bugger's coffin on Monday. Once that is done, I can come back and give you a bit more of the gory details of the murder.