okay people, unless you're absolutely sure you won't throw up, don't open this link. these are pictures of me right before i was stitched up in the operation theatre. it's bloody and gory. my sincere apologies for ruining your day..
http://picasaweb.google.co.in/xanjukta/GraphicPhotosIMSorryIfTheyDisturbYou?authkey=2NkOVp9HfhI
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
silkworm
nimble hands sewed up tattered pieces of skin for a good many hours. the story started as we froze like deer in the headlights of the oncoming vehicle or did the grand plan start before that. did i know anything while i cleaned up my room and made space for puru's stuff in my cupboard. did anyone have an inkling? did someone laugh in the great big blue sky or wherever the halleluiah strumming lute carrying angels park their white fluffy clouds??
frankly speaking for some strange reason i can't seem to relate to people who've come and told me if only you'd waited for some time... i'd rather get on with my life (i mean work, marriage. books, music etc) i mean i just wanna laugh. there are just so many corny jokes and one liners that come into my edema'ed brain, and i say then aloud, but it's no fun laughing at yourself unless you can manage a good racous laugh yourself. otherwise, people feel a little uncomfortable and odd at laughing at a smashed up woman. i mean god!! they're quite polite, aren't they?
i've been meaning to write for a long time now. just haven't had the time, and now i've all the time in the world. at least for a few days. (boy! Am i bored out of my wits?) i've contemplated on smell for now. with a smashed nose nothing much works in the olfactory department. i couldn't smell the three day old dried and caked blood in my fingers. nor the fact that i've not brushed for the last three days. what to say of the fresh smell of shampoo that emanated from my head wash today. i can't smell his breath, i can't smell his skin, i can't smell his love. i can only see everything. and i'm scared to soak it all in cos i may start crying being so overwhelmed, which i can't afford cos i can't blow my bloody broken nose.
spread open the anus of a cadaver. a sudden whiff of smell shall burst and shock you. i call it 'the final fart'. what of the teeming masses all around? what should i call that?
frankly speaking for some strange reason i can't seem to relate to people who've come and told me if only you'd waited for some time... i'd rather get on with my life (i mean work, marriage. books, music etc) i mean i just wanna laugh. there are just so many corny jokes and one liners that come into my edema'ed brain, and i say then aloud, but it's no fun laughing at yourself unless you can manage a good racous laugh yourself. otherwise, people feel a little uncomfortable and odd at laughing at a smashed up woman. i mean god!! they're quite polite, aren't they?
i've been meaning to write for a long time now. just haven't had the time, and now i've all the time in the world. at least for a few days. (boy! Am i bored out of my wits?) i've contemplated on smell for now. with a smashed nose nothing much works in the olfactory department. i couldn't smell the three day old dried and caked blood in my fingers. nor the fact that i've not brushed for the last three days. what to say of the fresh smell of shampoo that emanated from my head wash today. i can't smell his breath, i can't smell his skin, i can't smell his love. i can only see everything. and i'm scared to soak it all in cos i may start crying being so overwhelmed, which i can't afford cos i can't blow my bloody broken nose.
spread open the anus of a cadaver. a sudden whiff of smell shall burst and shock you. i call it 'the final fart'. what of the teeming masses all around? what should i call that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
