Marigolds are not in love anymore!

Even within the design itself, anarchy groans audibly. And I want to go away. Away, from the grandiloquence of it all.

At times, I feel like a stranger to my immediate reality. Up and down, it does not really touch my ground. And, the long mirror distorts my image in wrinkled irony. Glass-eyed, it mocks my smile, with a tinted veil. I cannot tell what from why.

The unconquerable will is lost, so is immortal hate.

How I wish you were here!

Nemesis

Wallflower, wallflowerWon't you dance with me?
I'm sad and lonely too.
Wallflower, wallflowerWon't you dance with me?
I'm fallin' in love with you.
Just like you I'm wondrin' what I'm doin' here
Just like you I'm wondrin' what's goin' on.
Wallflower, wallflowerWon't you dance with me?
The night will soon be gone.
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze
And I know that you're gonna be mine one of these days,
Mine alone.
Wallflower, wallflowerTake a chance on me
Please let me ride you home.
- Bob Dylan

My nemesis. This song is.

Autumnal.....

I want to ride back home. NOW.

A coffee-coloured evening.

Gray and uncertain.

Uncertain and gray.

September.

A little alley in Selimpore and a tubewell at the very end of it. Hypnotic spells of microeconomics in front of a black board. Mallinath Mukherjee, trying his magical best to charm the magnitude and direction of price vectors. Axioms, a hell lot of them. Friends.

Assuring smiles. Pretty dazzling, one of them. A sense of warmth trickling down the spine. One or two strokes of uneven beauty, carelessly arrogant.

It’s September again. Damn. The lilacs are peeping out of the dead land. Sadness. Inability. Inevitability. Myriads of frozen moments, moments that will never come back.
I want to ride back home. I wish.

September.

A coffee-coloured evening.

Uncertain and gray.

Gray and uncertain.