shamiana

No words can adequately carry the pain that I felt this morning. DNA Afterhrs said "Whitney, No more". How could she possibly go away? Wasn't she immortal? Her voice had that melodious quality which could haunt me for hours n hours. Never get bored listening to Whitney Houston. She was always there to buoy my spirits, to heal my jilted heart, to keep me from despair. She has indeed left the clichéd "void" in my heart and what better way to overcome grief than listen to Whitney again and again... It just takes "one moment" to make your life beautiful and worthwhile; one moment to end it all. Some however, make these moments count and transcend the boundaries of space and time. Whitney did and how! Rest in Peace, Whitney Houston Will always love you -Shamini

"I don't question our existence I just question our modern needs " - Garden, Pearl Jam A suggestion. Play that song as you clean your wardrobe. Helps immensely ! i just did that... Regular readers of this blog know that I am in the habit of throwing my clothes out of the window ! Coming back to the narrative, I found myself gaping at the variety of junk that had made its way into my cupboard. Well, there were a couple of saris "gifted" by relatives, kurtas which mocked my eating habits, a pair of jeans which seemed to have resurrected itself to laugh derisively at my dream of shedding those extra kilos. And alas ! skirts that remind me of my "single" status. They somehow never get along with the married me ! Then were t-shirts, shorts, track pants all suffering from an acute deficiency of vitamin D Anyway, the song playing in the background just pushed me do what I like doing best- give away stuff that I had not used in the last year or so. Strangely

T hey throng during weekends T hey laugh,click, and “ like ”. I wait and watch the time go by; Wait till the swamp shall devour me. Sad and still the waters hide the hideous face of Nature; Lonely, bare and withering I stand waiting for the Great Spirit To come crashing down on me. I glance at the mass that’s left Waiting to go down. The sore begins to fester and rot. Slow and agonizing water seeps into me. Time slips by. I cling, clutch, sink, and die.