there will always be people who say it does not exist because they cannot have it. but i tell you it is true and that you have it and that you are lucky even if you die tomorrow. ~~~ ernest hemingway, for whom the bell tolls ~~~ the wind was chilly and had a bite in it. it blew across his face, glancing off the planes and ridges of his lean visage as he ran. he was wearing a pair…
“there will be today, there will be tomorrow, there will be always, and there was yesterday, and there was the day before…” ~~~ leo tolstoy, war and peace ~~~ lips pursed, concentrating, he frowned at the laptop screen as the stewardess came silently and placed another cup of black coffee on the arm rest. a quick sharp gaze at her acknowledging her gesture and asr went back to work. “sir, can i get you something to eat,” shalini ali asked,…
i have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and i am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. ~~~ stanley kunitz, the layers ~~~ khushi stared down at the little pink bag clutched in her hands. it was so tiny, a little shiny purse with brown edging and trimmings. her heart felt a desert wind blow through, shattered lay everything all around, a peculiar sensation right in…
but i love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me. ~~~ pablo neruda ~~~ darkness enveloped the the long narrow tunnel like corridor ahead… flapping of wings as asr held his wife’s hand and ran down into the blackness in front, pigeons flying out of nooks and crannies, disturbed again tonight. there was no time to lose. he figured shyam’s men would be lurking somewhere…
darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning, with no distinguishing sign, all this was water. the life force that was covered with emptiness, that one arose through the power of heat. desire came upon that one in the beginning, that was the first seed of mind. ~~~ the creation hymn, rig veda ~~~ “khushi!” her name passed through him, brushing softly against his vocal chords, making him exhale, giving him breath. the pain of the words gushing out of…
tendidos en la yerba una muchacha y un muchacho. comen naranjas, cambian besos como las olas cambian sus espumas. stretched out on the grass, a boy and a girl. savouring their oranges, giving their kisses like waves exchanging foam. ~~~ octavio paz, los novios – a boy and a girl ~~~ “khushi, help me no… i want to bake a cake for asr… you know i have been going for these baking classes and learning all those eggless recipes…” lavanya…
asato ma sad gamaya tamaso ma jyotir gamaya mrtyor ma amrtam gamaya lead me from ignorance to truth lead me from darkness to light lead me from death to immortality ~~~ the brhadarnayaka upanishad ~~~ he wasn’t sure exactly when the helicopter skids actually touched the ground, his eyes had caught sight of the domes of sheesh mahal a while back even though it was almost dark. the silhouettes had come into view as they approached. unmistakable, familiar, indelibly threatening.…
the bus came out of nowhere. it hurtled down the narrow lane at reckless speed, weaving from side to side, a storm of dry afternoon dust in its wake, a frenzied behemoth on a rampage. he saw it before her. there was no time to lose. “khushi!” why did her name always sound so different on his tongue, a need in it, an excitement, a feeling like no other, that “kh” as he exhaled and carried her name on his…
i love thee freely, as men strive for right; i love thee purely, as they turn from praise. i love thee with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith ~~~ elizabeth barrett browning, how do i love thee ~~~ how he wanted to pick her up in his arms, hold her against him, feel her body, her breath, gather her to himself and never let go. he wanted to put her on that…
