Dharamsala

Dharamsala, Oh, why do I love Dharamsala?
Can I go again?

You probably shouldnt ask me. You probabaly shouldn't ask me if you dont want to get bored listening to thousand things beautiful and million things mediocre-ly beautiful, if you dont want to feel jealous, if you dont want to leave your cities, if you dont want to curse the choices you made in your life.

But here we go.

When its sunny, its warm.
When its too sunny, cool breeze from Bhagsu river soothes you
When it rains, you have an elephant peeing on your roof.
When its drizzling, there is a rainbow and the fog mixes with the droplets and you are in heaven.

Can I go again?

I will leave the sunst and spare you the deepest torture.

So where was I? Yes, Goldfish was saying something.

And as i write/speak to you about Dharamsala, there is dramnyen* music surrounding me while i continue you about my home.

Oh yes, Dharamsala is irresistable, not like your woman's perfume or your mum's parantha, or even your Sunday sleep. It makes you at home, incense on the road, monkeys stealing chana packet from my kitchen and swimming in freezing cold river pools.

I smile, I can not continue. Its unbelievable for someone who is in Dharamsala not more than a year.
What will you do?

Have you ever seen baby monkeys riding on their mother's back and remind you of pure affection and the ideal way of life?




dramnyen* - tibetan guitar

comeback

I havent been writing for a while, seemingly. The last post being two years ago or so. I was busy, busy doing nothing, busy procastinating, busy being busy with society's obligation to have a "real" job which pays you every month, busy falling in and out of love, busy shopping, busy contemplating being a vagabond, busy being a vagabond and busy observing, living and writing.

so here i am with my blackbook someone gifted me last year which ignited everything that was dormant inside me.

everyday i write something in my head, there is a parallel story running in my head as i see small things, continious frames of events in a day, as i stay still, as i cook and as i retire to bed.

Often I would wonder what would become of those stories if i took the effort to write them down. I knew i was letting certain beautiful or painful moments pass by. Sometimes I knew it was intentional, most probably I didnt want to share what I see. Yes, little selfish and laughing a little in the corner.

Well, I need an outlet. I need to be able to go back to those stories. I want to write. I am tickled to write. I am starved.

found this little note i had written a year ago or so. happy tat i did! its pleasant to be reminded of that moment. almost like reliving it. :)

At the most odd places, on stools, Zing and I eating our ice creams at a supermarket, I have the most beautiful and inspiring moments.
The security guy gives me always 3 extra scoops for my single scoop Spanish delight. I give him my ‘oh dear I don’t know what to say but thank u’ smile. No, I don’t give him one of my dazzling smiles, I can not cheat with this guy with a grand smile or by squealing with delight. I can never even out his sweet gesture. Whenever you feel most touched and genuine, I am not very good at expressing it. I am horrible at it and I don’t work on it.

So Zing and I chatted up. I just sat on a stray stool and asked a lady for another one. she offered one stool and smiled. Nobody bothered us. Everything felt nice. The best compliment is when someone smiles you his/her real one. Yes, you can always differentiate between a smile that reaches the eyes and making them gleam from the ones which doesn’t.

I don’t remember what we talked about. I am forgetting a lot of things lately. But it was something very pleasant, though in our very chaotic and confusing state we talked about it while relishing the icecreams.

We leave and I say ‘good night and see you soon’ to the security guard.
That 20 minute was a good moment.
Gives you the hope that there will be beautiful moments and surprises stored in these odd little places.

dont remember what it was and who you were

I read your poem
Time stood still, nearly.


Dust around me becomes snowflakes
The dog barking becomes distant
and somewhere leaves rustle
u know me.

I close eyes, sink and drown
Open and the traces are left on my smile.

Where are u my left shoe?
I searched for u everywhere.

Under my bed, behind the shelf
Are u hiding on the fan?
Or are u sleeping with the rats?
Where are u my left shoe?

I searched for u everywhere else
U ran away leaving behind the foot.
Without u oh my left shoe
Nothing is al-right.