life's a kick

When you watch a ballet, you understand what ‘breathtaking’ means. It means that the air leaves your lungs, and does not return, because your body is too busy assimilating the enormity of its experience. Ballet is an art in weightlessness. The dancer is a feather on stage, lifting her weight off the floor even before she has landed. Her body is unbelievably flexible. She can turn it, unturn it, twist it, bend it, lift it, throw it, collapse it – all with the same ease of a smooth hosepipe. You might have seen countless ballet pictures, but none of them, no matter how well taken, can ever make you travel the distance between the photo and the act. It is only when your jaw drops, when your hands rise in applause but halt midway, because you can’t afford to disturb what the eyes are absorbing, that you realise what ballet is. I was expecting a great show when i went to watch the Russian "Bolshoi" Ballet and Marinsky and Mikhailovsky Theatres, as part of festival of Rus...

Pump up the adrenaline tighten your grip clench your jaw see not the opponent's skin for the colour of blood is red rush it to your head. re-define resilience BLEED yourself target the brink. surpass it. Abandon Caution. Worship Aggression. Chase Passion. have no mercy love extremes. FOCUS. you were born to live these chosen moments. redeem your life. Fight. Fury. Slit. Sweat. Temper. Tears. Push beyond reason. Be mad. When you play the game, give it your ALL.

More than the weight of your amazing body thrust lovingly on mine... more than the moist caress of your closed lips on the valley of my bosom... more than the hungry search of your fingers from my head to toe... more than the gaping brush your mouth filling crevices of my being... more than the biting-squeezing-tearing hurry of frenzied love... more that the shocking thwack of flesh setting alight delicious flames on my body... more than the near vindictive kiss with my head turned wild in your grip... more than the playful roll of your tongue on my melting burning ear... I love the sweet lingering smell of your sweat rubbed off on my skin for i end up crazy, mad, possessed besotted with myself, enamored within.

Only yesterday i chanced upon the wellspring of my life only yesterday i set eyes on the darling of my life he asks me what i derive from just looking at him my lips part in answer in silence my eyes brim i run my palms through his hair and hold him tight to my chest he's that one rain i pine for in him i find love, in his arms, i rest.

i know you feel the weight of my eyes on your back i know it's me you search for when your head keeps turning to the track i know you hear me whisper tender words into your ear a thread of love runs down your spine you're immersed in me, i'm so near i know you dream of me tracing fingers down your skin i fathom the depth of your longing the line between us, so thin i know i'm always besides you and in every moment we commune our chemistry inimitable, pure, perfect an orchestra never out of tune i know baby, that you love me a fact you haven't and can't deny your face, eyes and touch connote meanings that words can't even try

A certain amount of pain, of unfulfilment, is good. it adds the passion to your dance it stirs up the melody in your song it lends a little sorrow to your writing it increases the length of your breath it slows down your gait a bit it heightens your observation it deepens your speech it mellows down your temper it replaces anxiety with patience it makes you kinder than necessary it makes you more aware of yourself So, a certain amount of pain IS good. P.S. - You see darling, you might not be with me, but you still help me grow.

हाँ , वहीं. ठीक उसी पेड़ के नीचे, नहीं ज़मीन पर नहीं, उस पेड़ की छाया के बीच...जड़ से ऊपर और पत्तों से नीचे, वहीँ कहीं रहती हैं आज कल मेरी आँखें. एक ज़माना था जब तुम रोज़ वहां से कम से कम दो बार तो गुज़रते थे। सुबह और शाम। मुझे याद है। अगर पेंट करना जानती तो ठीक उतार देती। तुम्हारे बदन की बनावट, तुम्हारी दूसरी दुनिया की हसीं, तुम्हारे आँखों की चमक, तुम्हारा भौहें उठाकर चिढाना, तुम्हारी शहद में डूबी हुई उँगलियाँ, यहाँ तक की तुम्हारी खुशबू भी। हूबहू 3डी बना देती, अगर बना पाती.  हाँ, तो मेरी आँखें। मुहावरों की दुनिया में सुना था पलके बिछा कर इंतज़ार करना. पर आँखों को किसी किनारे सौंप आना? सरासर बेवकूफी है। मेरी दो बेवक़ूफ़ आँखें महीने भर से तुम्हें एक झलक देखने के लिए मर रहीं है। सुबह तो मानो एक उन्माद सा  छा जाता है उनपर. तुम्हारे पूरे इलाके के चक्कर काटती हैं। ठीक उस मक्खी की तरह जो खिड़की से बहार निकलने का दमतोड़ पर व्यर्थ प्रयास करती हैं। तुम्हे देखे बिना थोडा और सूख जाती हैं. दिन की गर्मी में पेड़ की छाओं में चंद लम्हों के लिए सो भी ...