When You Are No More in Inception


It was in the early days of my second year when I heard someone say that Christopher Nolan will be coming to IIT Bombay’s annual fest. I took the burden of carrying that message to every person I would meet on my way to the hostel room. I would stop them, initiate the conversation with some day-to-day topics and smartly insert one question,

“Do you know who’s coming to IITB’s fest as a chief guest?”

The answer was obviously, “No”, followed by, “Who’s coming?”

The curiosity seed would be sowed inside my fellow chatter by then. A smirk would make its way on my face, a pride while I answered their curiosity laden question.
“Christopher Nolan!”
As much excitement I showered into those two words, I expected their eyes to widen and their mouth to make a big Whoooaaaahh! But none of that happened. Instead they shot another question towards me,
“Who’s he?”
Now people, this is the moment when the excitement on my face would drain away within a flash, so quick, that it won’t even require one whole second. Then, as a protocol, I would stare at them for a few seconds and ask,

“You don’t know who Christopher Nolan is?”

“Umm.. No”

Next step. Time to leave. But with a face, with an expression which clearly showcased that, from the moment the person said “Umm.. Noo”, I started considering them inferior.

The truth was quite the opposite. Let me confess.

The way I asked the question, the way they replied, the way I would react to their reply and then walk out of the conversation all of a sudden, was all planned. The blunt truth was I too didn’t know who Christopher Nolan was. But later, when my interest increased into Hollywood movies, I found out.

With his every movie I got to know more and more about him. Each of his new release would excite me like a child after seeing ice-cream. Today, I feel so exhilarated that I got a chance to sit just a few feet away and listen to the same man whom I faked to know a few years back. I never even thought that Nolan would visit India let alone watching him live, which by the way, would be into the deepest layer of my dreams.

But last weekend proved that anything is possible in life. Film Heritage Foundation, the foundation working desperately for a cause we all should be worried about, brought greatest dignities from around the world who believe in this cause and are willing to be a part of it.

During the early years of cinema there were no digital cameras like today. And celluloid films were used to shoot the picture. The beauty of this medium was it gave the spectrum of visuals so beautifully that it can’t be matched even with today’s digital technology. But, with time and with the evolving technology, films started going out of the picture. Except few dedicated film-makers no one even considered to use this medium.

In India, 99% of the silent era films have been lost. The task is to preserve whatever is left and save this medium from becoming extinct. And who else than Christopher Nolan himself! Who still uses celluloid to shoot his films. In India, the founder of Film Heritage Foundatioin Mr. Shivendra Singh Dungarpur, we can say, has stood up as the ‘Savior of films’ during the crisis. His never-ending efforts for this cause since 2014 attracted two of the world’s best artists – Tacita Dean and Christopher Nolan.

The event not only gave Nolan’s huge fans like me to listen him live but also created awareness about the cause they are fighting for. Today’s generation youth aren’t aware of celluloid let alone its importance. And, let me tell you, FHF has succeeded in spreading the much needed awareness among the youth.

From watching Interstellar the way it was intended to be seen, to listening to these great people talk about the future of film, last weekend was an experience.

Today, I don’t leave the conversation all of a sudden if the person I’m talking to doesn’t know who Christopher Nolan is. Instead, I ask them to sit and tell them who he is, why his every movie is special, how it was shot, why celluloid is important, and the thousand ways they can kill themselves because they didn’t know any of these things before.



The Golden Hour


The Golden Hour – brainwork

And then there would come a day
when, on the golden sand,
been kissed every other second
by the salty water,
Our fingers twined in each others’,
beneath the soft crystal-like granules,
The orange blush of the goodbye sun
dripping on the edges of your honey skin
and jet black hair,
Our feet, partially drenched into the wet sand,
the gloss on your lips glistening mildly,
as it’s gentle curve hides behind the
golden brown hair strand, busy in performing an elite salsa
back and forth in smooth swings.
Those sea-full of brown eyes resting their shyness on some
nonexistent point, somewhere between the horizon
and your half-visible feet,
That dome-shaped silver earrings
swinging dramatically slow – giving a quick-witted response
to the eastern cold breeze.

That would be the day,
when I would, confidently, grip your hand
with a firm clench,
attend your eyes with a trust as heartening as it was
during our first conversation.
And ask you to look at the everyday, never-ending
romance between the sun and the horizon,
hold your crested chin,
turn your face towards mine, and,
before the eastern winds dare to interrupt,
pull you so close that your heaving breath
would be clearly audible,
and, in that rapid turn of events,
hold up your left hand,
and notice the extent of  surprise and happiness
in your watery eyes,
as they witness the glistening edges of the silver ring
I pushed into your finger to make you mine – Forever.


– HP
from brainwork

On The Brink of Courage

procrastination humorous article


After a dreary day with a heavy bag and a hunched back, I finally came home. The moment I had been waiting for since the afternoon welcomed me with a broad smile. Sleep deprived eyes, continuous dabbling fingers, and a painful back were about to get their well-deserved gift – REST.

I threw the shoes, pulled out the socks, unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped the pants, all in a matter of seconds. Like a quick montage in a film. A splash of cold water worked like a reset button for my mind.

There was a longing connection, a profound love between my body and the bed, like that of rain and earth. When one called the other had to come.

Just before the body could embrace its love, the eyes noticed a diary sitting alone on the desk, wondering where it’s only companion, the pen, had disappeared and not returned yet. They now sparked and twinkled, they woke up my passion. The diary would finally serve its purpose. A story was on its way. This was the day I would defeat my inner enemy – procrastination.

I got up as quickly as I could. Again a series of montages kicked in. Drawers, pen holder, bag, pencil box, one after another rapid successions of images revealed just one thing – it revealed nothing. The mighty writing instrument hid itself somewhere in the dark corner.

I took my previous position on the bed, ready to dive into the deepest sleeps, and scanned the whole room with my tired eyes. Turning the room upside down I had done half the CBI’s work single-handedly.

A dissatisfied sigh left with my breath and I let my body hug the bed. Just then my head felt like being hit by some hard, stick like stuff. Too tired to wake up and check, I grabbed the ‘thing’ and pulled it out all while lying and discovered what it was. I glanced at the pen and then at the room as I woke up. I could feel the piercing look of the diary staring at me and at the pen between my two fingers. A hundred thoughts, a dying story, and an unforgettable character were screaming to be penned down on those milky white pages ready to soak the ink forever. I glanced at the diary, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and recalled – I would defeat my inner enemy today!

I stretched my hand and gently placed the pen on the diary, switched off the lights, let my body embrace its love and my eyes dive into the deepest sleep.

Good Night.

Gateway to Madness


As the night lurked towards the peak of its darkness encompassing the silence, filled with whispering hiss and fuming fog, the world slept – unaware.
While they slept a dreamy sleep, it was arising, spreading rapidly like a forest fire. Bound to kill the humanity and a fatal weapon used by the inhumane, Chaos was born.
Chaos, unfortunately, has become a life component who everyone has unknowingly accepted to live with. It’s a complicated web getting complex each day and, like a black hole, it is sucking the living being into its complexity. What we are failing to understand is that it’s the chaos sitting in the nucleus around which all the problems revolve. And yet we are embracing it with open arms and welcoming it in our lives.
The whole world is connected together just with a single tap on a screen. Although this isn’t the ‘chaos’, but it definitely lays a foundation for the same. One bad decision, one bad day, one bad mind or one bad motive; it just requires one of these to set the fire of chaos into motion.
Terrorism is an act of one bad motive by one bad mind which eventually results to one bad day in the life of countless innocents. Chaos is unknowingly ruling this world in most unconventional forms. And it is that unconventional form which keeps it well hidden under its cover. People have become an integral part of it and, therefore, fail to spot wolf residing in their own packs.
Our, or for the matter of fact, any country’s democratic system is a humongous chaos in itself. Day by day problems are swarming in and are nowhere near to commensurate the number of solutions. Every effort made by our system gives rise to numerous for and against comments and views. The result of this for and against debate arises two groups who stringently believe their side of the debate to be true. So, from the action taken by government to the debate on an individual level, chaos stealth’s smoothly and knits itself systematically in our life.
A human is struggling on an individual level too. Every character on this earth becomes a prey for chaos at one or other point in his/her life. Our mind is occupied with so much of useless thoughts and phantasms which eventually downgrades the value of present. Everyone seems to go through a hard time or have changed drastically because of something or someone who gave them a hard time. No one can justify their behaviour but those two people and when they do its usually chaotic.
Now the question is, are we just one step away from converting the chaos into madness? I would like to share a brilliant piece of writing. An absolutely amazing wordplay –
“I have proved my point. I’ve demonstrated there’s no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That’s how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day”
— Joker, Batman-The Killing Joke.
Reading this monologue, delivered by the most vicious villain ever, forces us to think hard and, surprisingly, convinces us to believe the harsh truth hidden in those lines. Observing the world, in the 21st century, we are slowly and gradually becoming slaves of master chaos. Everything that begins with an innocuous motive ends up with pernicious effects. Misconception leads us to think that it’s the people behind the effects, whereas, they are just the minions working to save themselves from the whip of chaos. Chaos is an opportunity for the people who promote it. For normal people it’s the gateway to madness.
Whenever you find yourself indignant because of someone, try to subdue your anger. Embrace patience and it will bring you out of your vexatious self. Over thinking is a way chaos can sneak in your life. Save yourself from the unaware entry and sleep with a satisfaction and belief that no one but you controls your life.

“Maybe ordinary people don’t always crack. Maybe there isn’t any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits. Maybe it was just you all the time!”
— Batman’s response to Joker’s claim, The Killing Joke.

Try not to crawl under the rocks, stand with a puffed chest and face the problems as if you were born to do it so.


Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette on Brainwork


Their legs hung down the cliff as they sat on its edge gazing at the marvelous never ending sky which was slowly pulling the orange blanket over its blue body. The mild breeze gushed through her hair strands making them dance on its rhythm and then rest on her shoulders. Like an ultra slow-motion movie the sun was descending down to take a dip in the ocean. The tangerine shade which spread across the vast ocean made her skin glow and her watery eyes twinkle.

They both sat there with only the whooshing wind to fill the silence engulfing them. His eyes constantly toyed between the nature’s beauty and a human one. They settled on hers as even the nature complimented it. She looked at him and playfully raised her eyebrows, a gesture to ask the reason for his stare. Words melted into silence and a smile. With a tinge of blush he looked down the cliff where the waves from ocean gently touched the beach and disappeared back. This was the most memorable and alluring sunset for both the hearts.

The temperature was cooling down and the sky was changing from tangerine to cinnabar as the sun approached its horizon. The never-ending evening would soon come to an end. It was a sudden impulse, of that magnificent view on the nature’s canvas, in which he curled up her hand into his and asked,

‘See that?’

‘What?’, she replied in a mild tone

The Sun was a few inches above the horizon when he pulled her close and whispered in her ear,

‘Look at the sun how it kisses the horizon, everyday, like they’re kissing for the first time and would keep doing it till eternity’

‘Its beautiful, isn’t it?’, she replied this time looking into his eyes.

Pulling himself close to her with a deep breath he whispered again,

‘You are my horizon and I wish to do the same till we are seventy’

She giggled, he smiled and the silhouettes of the couple over the huge orange ball put an end to the perfect evening.


Superhumans and Developments


It was a normal night before everything was going to change. The bushes were not trimmed, lawn wasn’t mowed. Everything was normal. Totally normal. But then, the next day’s rising sun brought a bunch of changes along. Now everything wasn’t normal. It was changed. No I wasn’t dreaming, and I am damn sure of that.

So, our campus is huge and demands maintenance from time to time (or at least on special occasions). And the authorities stand up for their responsibilities so well that superhuman powers arise inside them just overnight. While rendition of their decorative work is appreciable (no doubt there) it opens up a funny (but real) portal for discussion/commentary.

Most of the times, I personally have observed, that on the visit of some unknown so-called VIP personality, a dedication-for-work feeling and this-must-be-done-in-these-much-hours commitment arises in the government related higher authorities and also in the people who work under them.


Higher authority person (A) to his work force (B-Z):

A: We need to construct a 10kms road in four hours

B-Z: (with a pan in his mouth) ho jaega sir! (it will be done)

A: We need to plant trees on the sideways so that our minister can feel the calmness by looking at them (while travelling in his AC car?)

B-Z: (a pan in his mouth) ho jaega sir! Truck bhar ped mangvata hu! (consider it done, I will call in a truck full of trees)

A: We need to tell the residents they cannot walk (in their own area) while minister is visiting them, for ‘security reasons’.

B-Z: (spitting the pan) hanji! Ye to sir dekhiye bahut jaruri hai.. pata chala ghumte ghumte ekkhad londe ne goli mar di minister saab ko to! Abhi e-mail bhijwata hu sir.. ghumna firna band do din k liye..

(NOTE: Guys please! He is just a minister! And he is VIP! Don’t hurt him. Let him enjoy his stay in your area even if it’s on the cost of your freedom. Please don’t get out of your rooms or else they will arrest you considering an attacker or maybe terrorist! After all your overgrown beard, unwashed hair, and always sleepy eyes determine your…. You know what I mean, eh!)

Coming back to the point! Ok what was the point?

Yeah! Decoration of roads, plantation and even if it comes to build a 50 storey building, it is important!


…………..     Because planting trees is a good act! And it isn’t for the VIP, obviously.



Look at this picture. It’s the proof that planting trees is the most generous and essential act. 🙂

So what there are just two, and are looking like they arose out of nowhere, and nearly resemble the meeting of two lost brothers (yep that movie!). They still look beautiful and, shut up, they are trees. Respect.

Yeah I know there was nothing but overgrown grass in this square just the night before. But, come on who cares! We got two goddamn palm (?) trees right in the center of our hostels. And there’s one more somewhere, maybe two.


And the trees have been planted for a special occasion. Because the authorities, too, know that for (un)bearded, unhygienic students grass is enough for their survival. 😐


Because everyone should be on one level


This is my turn to prove my earlier statement that overgrown beard and hair is a big NO for governmental authorities. I mean these guys don’t even like a bush spreading its branches in a way that makes it look like an attacker, I mean, ugly. Oops.


Just look at the picture guys. Do I need say more? The dedication that was put in to trim and add splendid beauty to campus is just appreciable. (BTW the guy who was trimming the bushes had an overgrown beard and was thrown out from his job when the higher-higher authorities caught his live image from the satellite which is sent out in space especially for the purpose of catching the people who don’t follow by the rules of Big Brother) They are watching you too!! (Yep just exactly like that novel!)


Oh! This stripes! Brings memories..


These stripes bring all those memories from childhood, don’t they? Walking with parents, holding their hand, and then on the zebra-crossing thinking that we are safe on these black and white stripes. But we were just children then and weren’t aware that for bikers and car drivers here the stripes are like a finish-line and instead of decreasing the pace they do the exact opposite.


Well I guess just to avoid this issue they have painted only the sideways and that too only till what looks in the picture. Nowhere else these stripes can be found except the area in the picture. Peace.


No, this isn’t because we will have a visitor, obviously. Nope. Absolutely not. It’s been done because Winter is Coming.

Next segment is pretty cool. Because we have customized our Winterfell (Yep that’s what I call it. And you very well know why!)


The only person who was the happiest was the guard whose table and chair you can see in one of the picture. When asked why he was so happy he said, “Finally my loneliness has come to an end”


“I used to sit in this chair staring at the blank walls all the time but now with the blessings of minister I have so many pictures to share my time with. Now I don’t feel lonely”


“Also I like these touch screen things very much. Can you teach me how to turn on the computer and use this thing?”

I said, “Uncle, there are seven floors in this library. Of which six floors has this thing and half of them don’t work! Most of the time I found this damn thing locked and we don’t know the password. Even the hint to unlock this thing is useless”

He looked at me for some time, disappointed. Then I said, “I can teach you how to operate my phone. It is touch screen too”

The Globe:

I don’t know what the purpose of putting this globe here is, but it feels nice. The moment you enter Winterfell you will see this globe standing upright, with absolutely no idea what it is proud of. I see a ray of hope when I look at it. And for people like me who dream of travelling to foreign countries and then have a look at bank balance, which is merely few bucks, this egoistic light shining globe is the last hope.


Now comes the most important and final part of this article:

Introducing the Official MAP!


Inspired from the local map boards around Chandigarh this map gives you the detailed information about the campus. And I must say that this is the most important step taken by the authority. Because we have a huge campus spread on 125 acres of land. And anyone could easily get lost in such a big place, of course!

I myself have lost my ways 4-5 times and I had to spend the night walking on the empty roads which by the way felt haunted because of the overgrown trees everywhere. But now all the unwanted trees are gone and there’s always this map to guide.

Go and check it out people it’s really cool and don’t forget to take a selfie with map because that’s what we do! Upload your selfies with the hashtag “#mysaviormap” and stand a chance to win…. I don’t know this is not a contest and I just have few bucks left for godsake!


Being said that there might be some things that I have missed. If you can spot them out do share.

I think I should have put the ‘before’ photos too. That would have made things much clearer. But not my fault guys, the only way we come to know someone ‘important’ is visiting is when we look at the startling development that happens overnight. Peace.


This request is of utter importance:

This is my humble request to every student that at least on the ‘show-day’ take a nice long bath, wear washed clothes, comb your hair (trim them if necessary), spray deo on your body because I am pretty sure that our VIP won’t like to seat in the vicinity of un-clean and unhygienic people. And this may get us a flow of money from government. Because everything done here is done for a purpose! Peace.


On a serious Note:

The purpose of writing this article is not to attack on the system or the authorities but to ask the question “Why?”

Why the so-called developments, decorations and show-off things are put in motion only when a VIP member, minister or any government authority is to visit? And, why not on regular basis?

And the answer to this is:

= ‘bhai dekho ab….. aisa hi hai.. India me aisa hi hota hai’

If anyone feels hurt after reading this post, please go and click a selfie with the map you will definitely feel good. And don’t forget to upload it with #mysaviormap.



Jai Hind 😛

Over n out comrades!



Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

It was a wonderful day with an occasional cool breeze bawling through the trees. I was wandering onto the yellow lawn inside the park looking for food. This is the best place where I could easily find food to eat. There are lots of crunchy things in yellow packets lying on the lawn, and sometimes yellow leaf stuffed under a soft brown thing wrapped with grey paper. People tend to throw away the leftover food after their tummy is full. Anyways, it was a happy day for me.

Just beneath a dark yellow bench I saw a grey thing with yellow leaf stuffed inside it, peeking through the wrapped paper. A salivating urge to eat it rushed through me. People throw the leftover with the expectation of someone else to pick it up and discard it in bin on their behalf. Unfortunately everyone thinks the same way and eventually I have to eat it. And I am happy for that. Because I was hungry and all I wanted was to eat that piece. I ran under the bench and scratched the grey paper to uncover the crumb and leaf. The leaves were juicy and tasted minty. I was lost in the paradise of taste and rest of the world blurred.

After a few moments a small screeching and indistinct cry brought me back to the real world from paradise. I looked up with magnified eyes to find out where the voice was coming from. A part of leaf was hanging out from my mouth as I stood there undistracted.

An old man was sitting under a big yellowish tree and the voice seemed to come from him. But before that let me tell you something strange about the big yellowish tree. It has a lot of leaves (which I can’t eat because I am too small) and the tree is full of grey balls which hide behind the leaves. People eat those grey things and I think they are tasty. I have never tasted them. Once, a lady threw the leftover ball on the lawn. That must be the happiest day in my life, I thought. But the leftover grey ball hardly had anything left on it.

This another time a young boy fooled me. He was sitting on one of the benches with a hard book lying on his lap. He held the book quite unusually, in a way that the lines in the book would stand vertical rather than horizontal. And only half of the book lied on his lap, the other half was open and the boy was continuously staring at it. There was also flashy light with people singing and dancing inside the book and that must be what the boy was staring at. I stood in front of the boy and I could see the book’s cover from this side. Suddenly, the same salivating urge rushed through my mouth as I saw it. On the cover of the book the same grey ball, like on the tree, laid – resting. And unlike the lady, who left nothing on the leftover, only one bite was missing from this ball. A bright white light reflected through the ball as if it was calling me. I hopped on my legs and jumped on the cover to grab the ball. Nothing! Although I was able to lick it only once yet it tasted nothing! Just nothing! Or maybe little like dust. The grey ball stood there sitting still on the cover not moving an inch. The boy ran, scared because I jumped on him. He left his grey hat on the bench.

I looked at the old man again. And I moved closer to him. I could hear his heavy breath which included lots of huffs and pauses. As I moved closer I saw his eyes were tightly shut like someone does so as to control some physical pain. I never did that. His old loose skin hung on his old bones forming series of uneven lines on his forehead and cheeks. The lines descended downwards like the liquid flowing down when put on a glass window. He wore a grey jacket and t-shirt and, between his fingers, he held a picture of a small girl. She was adorably cute with a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. I wished to ask him what was wrong and why was he crying. But he sobbed and sobbed.

I rubbed my head on his arm and he gave me a saddened pat on my back with his trembling, old, worn out hands. Finally, after few minutes of patting, he muttered, gathering his breath,

“She was the reason I smiled and laughed. We played on this very bench.”

Tears again filled up his eyes and a few moments later he whispered,

“She turned six today..… would’ve”

He ruffled my hair and started leaving the park. He struggled to walk and used a stick for support. I could feel the pain behind his tears that had sucked all the liveliness out of his life. Without her this world was gray and black for him, just like me. I ran towards him with my tiny legs sinking in the grass. I started hopping and circling around him. Still he didn’t notice. Humans are stubborn, I thought. So am I.

I ran again and this time grabbed his trouser. He stopped and turned. His old eyes stared at me and he knelt so as to look into my eyes, closely. His breath had eased now and with a sigh he started speaking,

“Pal, you are a good doggie. I like you very much, just the way I liked my granddaughter. And that’s exactly the reason I won’t take you with me. I loved her till eternity”,  he paused to gather some breath and spoke again,

“Now that she’s gone, vanished into thin air, I feel the pain of being alone. If I keep you close you too will love me like I loved her, maybe even more. I am old now. Any day could be my last one” , ruffling my hair he added,

“I don’t want you to go through the pain that I am in now, pal. I am sorry.”

The old man stood up and left with his struggling walk and welling eyes. He didn’t want happiness in his life anymore.

As I stood there looking at his frame, disappearing with every step he took, suddenly, I felt a pair of soft hands on my belly. As my feet left the ground I realized that I was being lifted up. I couldn’t see who it was but the soft female voice assured me that it was a small girl. She held me close to her this time looking into my eyes. She was an adorable little girl. She had a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. Kissing me, she screamed joyfully,

“Moommyy.…I wanna take him home.. I will name him braawniee..”

—————————–The End——————————-

Read more posts here

One day, may be?


One day, maybe, we shall fly again. Forget the catastrophe that set us all apart. The sun will smile down upon us and the night will no more be an asylum. Smiles will no more be a disguise and sadness will no more hide behind the mask. Eyes will gleam again with an undying hope. Lies will hide beneath the ground never to return. Trust shall bloom again in the garden of love.

One day we shall dance in the rain and with every falling drop we shall drain all our sins that brought sadness into this world. We shall tap our feet and roll like a child on silly songs just like old times. Broken hearts would be mended and pieces of love would be fixed. We shall spend our time in the park, sitting on a bench greeting the joggers and listening to the chirping birds. Coffee would be our heaven and books would be our angels.

A simple ‘hi’ would build a lifelong connection. ‘Strangers’ would be an ancient word. He will find her and she will find him.
The only question that remains is,
Are we, the humans (creator of chaos), ready to live in such a perfect world?






How is it going, since we parted our ways (or at least I think we did).

Is it good out there or scary like a nightmare?

Hardly got any time for goodbye’s and we just shut up. I wander in the conundrum, in permutations and combinations of the things that might have gone wrong or just about our assumptions. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

But in the mist of finding that one reason I have lost in the labyrinth which I thought could fix up the broken parts.

It was like standing at the beginning of the road which split into two like a fork, each way leading to some unknown destination. And we just stood there, let silence speak for us, eyes decide the ways we will be headed, mind engulfed by the past and heart sitting back helplessly in the chest like a prisoner in a jail.

Did the words burn or were our eyes on fire?

Like a zombie, we didn’t even realize what were we doing and when did we start walking away. I took the left road and you took the right one. Now I think about what you might be thinking. Are you thinking like me? Or the zombie inside you hasn’t woken up yet?

I think, after walking so long, should I head back to where we started, where I might find you waiting for me (or maybe not). Or should I keep walking forward in the hope that my left road will eventually meet your right one?

Shouting and calling for you won’t help either. For my voice is turned to ashes with the words that burnt away.

I assumed that you were awake. I assumed that you would stop and pull me back. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

Satisfaction is lost somewhere between confusion and regrets.
Love is lost somewhere between ego and decisions.
We have lost each other somewhere between the right road and the left one.


Old Photographs

a happy boy

Old Photographs

Interweaved in my own thoughts I didn’t even realize the gentle smile that appeared on my face. Sliding through the old photographs, the old memories, those prestigious moments captured just in one click, I was lost in them. Smiling, laughing, mimicking and posing in every possible posture; old photographs indeed have the potential to speak silently, whisper softly and pull the tear out of your eyes gently.

Digital or physical, old photographs sit there quietly, waiting for you to visit them when you miss your past. They wait for you, humbly, to slowly brush your fingers on them. At that moment you aren’t looking at a flat-colored-photographic-sheet which you can tear in parts but you are visiting your past where everything, but the real you, is alive. Time travel happens when you shuffle through your old photographs. You find yourself surrounded with those sweet unforgettable memories. You look at yourself, still like a statue yet full of life! And then wonder where did we lose the life? Maybe somewhere between those old photographs and you sitting and staring at them?