Because change is the only thing constant

Eddies will now rant on talltrashtalks.blogspot.com.

early first five followers will have a chance to win exquisite hampers



Of course


conditions apply.

The gaze of the ruthless moon.
whirling in the womb of dark
A silence so prickly,
grazed the heart
Forests retire, mountains head home.
The night is mourning,
at the loss of unborn.

Relationships are like algebra. I can never understand for the life of me. Strange

A song.

Heart,
an underfed baboon-
chases for his tune
Like the naked sea,
awaits the moon.

Heart,
a cradle of unsung songs,
remembering him-
till the unfinished dawn
Building castles-
in the cornfields of his hair
breeding butterflies-
right beneath them.

Heart,
A traveler's curse,
Trudging oceans-
deeper than depth.
He says, "follow the wind, as i takes you"
I say, "how will the wind recognize you"

Heart,
melts away with the rain,
flirting with memories-
ever so stray.
A peck, an unsolicited hug,
Hear the cloud day chuckle
after it has moaned.

Heart,
becomes his fragrance,
when i'm alone.
Like blobs of paint,
left untouched on the canvas.

Between us, violet is made

On the slope of his smile,
i build my home
Spreading like twilight
on a cloudy sky
Through the cornfields of his hair,
i charter my way
Purring like a river,
at the touch of the quay.

On the slope of his smile,
i build my home
as day folds into
violet evenings.
Capturing an eternity
through unlocked fingers
Like unspoken words
that dance on wispers

The silky drapes the of silent night

Happy independence story

Life moves in quirky designs. Only yesterday I was struck by Bob Marley's redemption song that talks about liberation in his typical typical da dee da sing-song. Ever seen its been looping in my head like a constipated pin-ball. And today I'm here, celebrating my liberation on the independence day eve in my pink shoebox-room.

My initial thoughts don't seem to vary much from last year when i first moved in to the back-of-beyond ACJ hostel. This time the high multiplies and literally speaking,for my shoe-box rests atop on the 5th floor offering a wide world-view.

This high in unmatched. This high remains unfazed. It's growing up part 2, this time only bolder. Read: squatting creepies in the middle of night amidst power-cut.

Hope the fragrance of independence remains as strong as now. It poured big today. My pink walls rake of over-baked candy floss. Talking of food, day one has been interesting. My landlord's family hailing from a cow-fat village of Haryana offered me ghee-inflated bread which I haven't had in years. My resistance was met by some cow-fat Haryanvi words which made me succumb and gobble it all.

So this was day 1. Updates soon to follow.

For now,Won't you help to sing
This songs of freedom
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.