Tuesday, December 1, 2015

A turned over leaf on the greener side of the grass!!

And thus the saga begins again! Or so I'd like to believe haha..

Some good hearted people who know me well and have stayed by me,  know how much I love writing... Heck, I've sometimes considered myself the God of writing, thanks to endless-near-embarrassing praises and appreciation from some.

I have had a hard time finding the courage and will to write something on this public medium. I've been writing every day... And every day it goes some place private. Some place only I can access.
I've never felt helpless in all my life, except the last 16 months. It's almost like I've been bound and gagged.. Though I'd all my free will, I just couldn't execute any of it.

As with everything I love, I pursue. And so I will until I'm sent back to my own planet; my rightful home!
In all these years, this planet has become home too. I've begun turning human. As much as I appreciate every living being and still entity on this planet, I hate the human disadvantage. Some use it as an advantage, a weapon even! My perspective. My will!

I declare that nothing will rot behind the doors I'd closed myself behind. It's time for the stories to unfold. It's time for me and my pen to enter the foray; the land of fiction and fictitious friends!
I will write.. I will write about everything. My travels, my experiences, my imaginary friends and for the first time ever- I will write fiction to screw with your INNOCENT and NAIVE heads, for I love the very idea of mindless associations.

With that, I must brag. Perhaps just a little now. A month before the last time I wrote on this blog, I was 92-95kgs heavy. I now am 72 *swag mode* \m/. All that running behind courage and will power did pay off hahaha \m/

R.o.H.i.T... B-)

Thursday, July 30, 2015

The Grandest Deceit Ever!

Vacuously, he kept counting the beads on the string.
Starting back when he was done with the last one.
Skimming over the string, bead by bead
Hours or days? Time then went dead
He implored his dead heart for a tick tock may be
And all he could hear was an immobile claustrophobic organ.

She rolled the beads around her neck one by one.
Starting back when done with all of them.
Devoid of any conniption, like a newborn
Hours or days? Time then went racer mode.
She took to this new life with radiant alacrity, listening to her heart
And all she could hear was the flitting heart, making space for another kill.

Image From Magpie Tales for Mag280

Rohit Iyer

Had to be some coincidence that my only non-watch-wrist-accessory had to snap when writing this piece!