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Lost and Found

I search for myself in prose’s long embrace, in poetry’s ornate, winding lace— chasing a fleeting glimpse of me, of what I was, of what I could be. No. Either I am a memory long forgotten, or a thought never born. Shadows drift through my grasp, always black, never white— lurking in the silence between words, where reason slips into madness, where echoes fade before they form. For every stirring leaf, a breeze must be, but was it the cause, or just the reply? I could never tell. The sharp edge of focus, sliced by a dissolving thought— so often, so quick, I no longer know what came first, what was last. Waves and circles of time ripple outward, spiraling from a vanishing center. They move so long, so far, I have lost their beginning, I will never find their end. On the train of life, I traveled, stopping at stations of intoxication— lingering too long, forgetting too much, until I lost sight of the journey’s end.

On being book tagged...(from 2003)

A lot of the bloggers I watch (and more from who they watch) are being book tagged. I envy all those people who are book tagged, as they are supposedly, the "intellectual" types with thick reading glasses and lots of absent-mindedness. Well, so what if I am not tagged - i will list my favorite 5 anyway. On second (and third and fifth) thoughts- no, i will not. For those of you who are guessing - Oh she doesn't have anything interesting to share - let me tell you, you are so right! As a child, inspired by the Bajaj bulbs and tubes ad, "Jab main chota ladka tha, badi shararath kartha tha, meri chori pakdi jaathi" where the kid reads books under the covers in his bed, I would attempt to read with a torchlight. Appa came up on me, one fine night and said "You shouldn't be reading with a torch light and with the book so close to your eyes. It will ruin your eyesight." And he would switch on the tube light (don't remember if it was Bajaj) and let me...