{birth}

n.

The first and direst of all disasters. As to the nature of it there appears to be no uniformity. Castor and Pollux were born from the egg. Pallas came out of a skull. Galatea was once a block of stone. Peresilis, who wrote in the tenth century, avers that he grew up out of the ground where a priest had spilled holy water. It is known that Arimaxus was derived from a hole in the earth, made by a stroke of lightning. Leucomedon was the son of a cavern in Mount Aetna, and I have myself seen a man come out of a wine cellar.

{ - Devils Dictionary | Ambrose Bierce }

.Madhushala. Born of 3 men. (ok....2 men and a boy..)


You can download it here.

ambassador

this is one i've been dreaming of a lot!
a lot, lately.
driving across india in an amby....
lazy feel, bulky curves;
dig, dig, dig!


these pictures are from raghubir singh's 'a way to india'
till i come up with such a collection....
doze dazed on that backseat!

dylanmirrorserendipity

it happened today;
this morning,
wet morning,
without notice;
as is wont,
but he won't,
stop making sense;
perhaps nevermore than today,
wet friday today.

when you wake up in the morning baby look inside your mirror
you know i won't be next to you, you know i won't be near
i'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear
as someone who has had you on his mind...

the songmaker

he comes
sits with me for a while,
and then we walk away.

like strangers always do,
on a railway platform, or
like in the movies - a park.

but this time,
you are not on the giant wheel.
you are not visiting, again and again
that old, aged scene, with assured familiarity.

because this time
we walk away
whistling a new tune.
together.

# washerman tales from the godavari

# another day in paloncha

# bayline bombay

the road show

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life goes on,
the road don't end.
or may be it does
end for you;
when, you are not on it anymore.

meanwhile,
we are all hurtling headlong;
this narrow ribbon,without a map.
riding hard on heresay,
or just drifting along.

i can see your car, i can see its colour, its make;
but i dont know what music you are playing,
can't guess what you are thinking about,
can't stop to have cofee with you.

when? where? who? will crash into whom?.... is speculation.

speculation of the celestial kind.