tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-378769582011-08-30T23:32:17.523+05:30Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.comBlogger221100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-39770954285687583492011-08-30T23:27:00.002+05:302011-08-30T23:32:17.533+05:30

So, this one’s about losing touch. Losing touch of time. Losing touch of space. Losing touch of everything in between. It has been an awful long time since I last wrote, so I have probably lost touch with how to write. Or the idea of an audience, a destination for my thoughts. This one’s about losing touch with my audience. It has been a long time since I took stock of my roots. A long time

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-15204766212973589212010-11-08T17:16:00.001+05:302010-11-08T17:16:33.572+05:30

Well, once I was a peice of cloth.Too small to cover,Too weak to protect,Too tattered to shelter,So they called me a rag.There isnt much a rag can beApart from a useless part of an otherwise uself whole.And so I was Just a rag.Till I met another rag.Bigger and stronger And yet not whole,Caught in the wind,Too in-the-flowTo let go.We were both rags.Both useless parts of separate useful wholes.And

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-64784938731852720342010-08-17T03:02:00.000+05:302010-08-17T03:06:37.370+05:30

I always wondered as a child why grown-ups had to lie so much. I particularly remember this one time at the bus stop with Mumma when she was telling someone an incident which was, let’s say, manipulated to sound more interesting. To me it sounded like a lie, the thing that could not be had from me, and I could not fathom why it was being used without a reason. Now that I am all grown up, I can’t

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-55146240261308604892010-06-03T23:36:00.001+05:302010-06-03T23:43:00.059+05:30

They call it "one of those days" (though I'm not too sure who 'they' are, since nobody seems to have the guts to say anything important anymore) and I was faced with a sheer prototype of it today. I made my first big mistake at my new workplace, not out of negligence, but simply by following procedure. The most important of all jobs could not be completed because there were other little things

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-7081931716226443962010-05-25T00:34:00.002+05:302010-05-25T00:43:22.033+05:30

I am a blank space. Empty and unaltered. You and I have come a long way. We met in your empty notebooks, your freshly painted walls, your tabletops and paper napkins, your drawing books and A4 sheets, the white of your uniform, the margins of all the books you've ever read, the document on your computer screen, the empty message on your phone. And you have never let me down in my life and yours.

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-83895260924011318932009-02-16T12:07:00.003+05:302010-05-25T01:30:07.781+05:30

He yawned and looked out of the window, it was a dull gloomy morning. It was raining continuously for the past few days, so he had little time to go out and get some fresh air. He hated the touch of rain to his skin. But he longed for the wind to rustle his grey air. He longed for it to throw a stray leaf at him that made him blink. So he stretched, went out and sat by Sheila on the veranda. Away

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-83302789263826531482008-10-10T19:12:00.009+05:302009-02-16T15:16:57.930+05:30

I see a little beeBuzzing, on the fleeWho are you running from?Are you scared of your mom?I see a dogSniffing after a frogWhere will you take him?Into the night dim?I see a butterflyFlutter, flutter byWhat are you so happy about?Silver lining to your cloud?And then I see a mirrorAnd in it, my faceNothing but a smirk on itNo sign, No traceI stop asking these questionsThey can’t answer me.Why was I

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-70876140960405983162008-10-03T16:49:00.002+05:302009-02-16T15:14:41.209+05:30

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-13686686540779249442008-08-28T18:12:00.013+05:302008-08-28T18:44:35.138+05:30

For all those who are already acquainted with Stumble, please read the last bit about the one website, others, read on.Had those times when you were sitting in front of the computer, with an active internet connection, and all you did was stare at the screen, with no special purpose? Well even if you have better things to do with your time, it sure has been happening a lot to me in these past few

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-40849615020265436762008-07-30T19:13:00.001+05:302009-02-16T15:16:57.930+05:30

NOTE: This one's from a long time ago that I hadn't had the heart to publish till the dark clouds cleared. Now they have, by God's good grace, so here it is;What do you dowhen you want to get lost?When no one aroundfeels your existence.Do you just vanishand leave them alone?Or is it a momentto tackle with persistence?What do you doWhen sweet love fails?When darkness and doomSolely prevail?Do you

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-79184398777039847492008-07-18T18:59:00.002+05:302009-02-16T15:20:23.516+05:30

“Have you checked the batteries on that thing?” she said pointing at the torch in my hand. “I think it’s run long enough on those, you should change them. Which you most probably won’t so let’s say I should change them first thing tomorrow morning after I’m done dealing with that nincompoop doodhwaala, he thinks I wouldn’t make out how much water he’s mixing in the milk nowadays, as if it wasn’t

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-91112825672570258362008-04-08T12:41:00.003+05:302008-04-08T12:48:45.631+05:30

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-50482761868505014512007-12-31T07:56:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:21:30.885+05:30

This one's hillarious!! Just pay heed to the way the kid turns her eyes!! awesome... and how she stamps the sketch pens down to be able to do it better! soo funny!!

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-90667802075710715922007-09-23T14:40:00.004+05:302009-02-16T15:16:57.931+05:30

Every time I look at you My eyes go wideYou are beauty incomparable You are perfection definedWish I could feel the pain in your heartKill the shadow in your eyesYou are beauty incomparable You are perfection definedI want to be with you all daySee you cruise through your lifeYou are beauty incomparable You are perfection definedWe are both just the sameSave this mammoth divideYou are beauty

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-60560522660475528512007-08-27T15:53:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:18:36.049+05:30

I saw this real nice movie the other day called "In her shoes", about two sisters who lost their mother, and revisit themselves and her, when they find their long lost grandmother. This poem's from that movie, for my Mumma, whos birthday's just round the block. Love you Ma, wherever you are. (Mumma n me.. in that order..)I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)I am never without it (

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-81542916568393824992007-07-21T15:19:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:16:57.931+05:30

The rain pours downAnd blurs my visionThrough the glass pane.I feel the derision.It mocks me,It’s sneering at my mood!All those drops togetherMe in my solitude.I open the windowBeckon it towards meIt sways awayAlmost instinctively.And then perhapsAccepts me somehowMoves towards meAnd drenches me down.With the endless rainI now feel akin,My solitude’s goneAnd I foolishly grin.I grin at the skyAnd

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-32009152678462254022007-07-20T09:22:00.001+05:302010-02-15T17:18:32.227+05:30

Aa ke wabasta hae us husn ki yaadein tujh seJis ne is dil ko pari-khana bana rakha thaJis ki ulfat mein bhula rakhi thi humne duniyaDehar ko dehar ka afsana bana rakha thaAashna hae tere qadmon se wo rahein jin parUski madhosh jawani ne inayat ki haeKaarvaan quzre haen jin se usee ra'naaee keJis ki in aankhon ne be-sood ibadat ki haeTujhse kheli hae wo mehboob hawayn jin meinUske malboos ki

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-62325726762007284702007-04-22T14:00:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:17:21.912+05:30

Innocent love just left meReason took overThe silver lining I was waiting forPassed me overLife is now a whole new pictureWith darker shades of redAn emptier landscapeA lonelier path I treadThe morrow shows me a dreamYesterday beckons in its darknessToday it seems never happenedAll I have is an emptinessOf wisdom and practicalityI miss my innocent loveThe lack of Reason

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-80894341572459475692007-04-20T10:56:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:17:54.624+05:30

The windStrong and persuasiveBending round cornersOr fleeing straightFluttering leaves andPushing birdsBut not all the wayVision on horizonCraving in futilityTo break all barriersGood or BadIs all relativeHypocritical effort of societyTurning man against mankindTill there be a manNo moreDeepankar Biswas (05.01.1979)

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-24506319831829355722007-03-23T00:08:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:17:21.912+05:30

Im aloneThe night is dark and you cant see meIm aloneAnd I'll be so for all eternityIm aloneFor there's a mask on every face I seeIm aloneFor every one's as ugly as me...

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-4855599920737232692007-03-17T12:51:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:17:21.912+05:30

As days go byI stand here thinkinWhy doesnt it feel like homeWhy doesnt it sink inThis life surrounds meAlmost surreallyThis retensionOf a storm withinMakes me wearyDoes it ever get overDoes the pcture ever fade?Do I resurrect everOr am I left here to jade?Who answers my questions?Is anyone even there?Leave answering asideDoes anyone even care?Is there really a circleDo they really hang onOr is

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37876958.post-1165259378342221802006-12-05T00:38:00.000+05:302009-02-16T15:20:13.967+05:30

Today is perfect. Everything is just as it should be. The sky is blue.The grass is green. But an old woman's heart is unsettled. Her life's been brewed and her intuitions perfected by the years she's seen pass her. She feels a sense of foreboding, awaits something terrible. Her heart awaits His wrath. And a wrath, she receives. The aluminum plates of her roof start mumbling among themselves, her

Sancharihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272208436313667866noreply@blogger.com4