Current Residence: Mumbai
Favourite genre of music: Elemental
Favourite photographer: Toni Frissell
Favourite style of art: Surrealism, Landscape
Operating System: Linux
Favourite cartoon character: Johnny Bravo
Rapture IIIt had begun.Rapture II by celebRAYtion
And it was here to stay. At least I am not letting it go.
Silence. Silence of a storm brings more violence to the act itself. This, I thought, is the point when the fears depart only to let the void of a lifetime to set in. A vacuuming act.
A ray passes through it occasionally. It reminds me the taste of the coldness in a frozen strawberry. Ripe. Luscious.
It reminds me of my first-ever flight. Adrenaline. The thrill of being alive, and not being seen.
A golden field with the orange sun teaching me the meaning of freedom.
The vertical horizon that I discovered aboard a Kolkata-bound flight.
The first kiss and the joy of knowing how insatiable "insatiable" can really be.
It reminds me of a beautiful thorn on a Black Rose.
Promises beautifully kept and more beautifully broken.
It reminds me the silent answers of the Hunter pointing towards a more silent horizon in a faded blue sky, telling me that I wasn't a hopeless case.
A funeral wherein I laughed and laughed. The birth
MagicHere it comes again.Magic by celebRAYtion
The smile never ceases to stop dancing my face. I tell it to go somewhere deeper where the world shouldn't be able to find it, somewhere in the core. Like in my eyes. But it says that my heart's full, so is my soul. My eyes too sparkled, betraying the fact that I am flirting with the Sea. Romancing the horizon. Laughing with the Hunter. So it has to reflect on my face. In the mischievous dimples, in the lips that never part but speak volumes. The spirit moves. Like the flashes of lightening. A promise of a Storm. A smile that continues to flirt my face.
In the past 54 hours I was glued to my passion. My work. I worked non-stop, thanks to the season of announcements, which the entire country is waiting for. I could not have cared less. But it was passion that governs my life, and so it was. Working and never for once tiring. There was no time, yet every second counted. I was here in the mortal world, racing and defeating time, with a dangerous calm of indifference o
The Human TouchHeart break. Tears. Pain. Love.The Human Touch by celebRAYtion
Was this a chain? Or were they really co-related to each other, mutually exclusive of each other, stressing each other's existence? Like leech? Or was it an analogy that was above questioning?
She never really understood why there was so much pain and hurt in the mortal world. But then, there were many things she didn't follow that were rampant here. Yes, she did unbelong.
A broken heart. Infinite stories recited time and again by individuals. Some succumbed to the pleasures of the bed over the sacred bleeding heart. While some clinged on to their meanderings letting the world coronate them as "weird" and "outcast" from the social circle. The Human Touch.
The white coats of the world examined in the laboratories of the world and concluded that it was no more than a pounding organ, responsible for receiving and supplying blood to the arteries and veins, much less the fact that it was red and "heart" shaped. The black coats of the world pacifying couples a
The Tear That Refused to FallIt was not a problem. So there was not a solution for it to be found. Just a few questions to be answered. I questioned. But he refused to answer.The Tear That Refused to Fall by celebRAYtion
May be there was something wrong with me, after all. For, I questioned everything.
"Where is god?"
"Why do we have to 'fall' in love?"
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
I asked a lot of questions. And people answered me. Such that I always kept asking more questions. I was never satisfied. Then I gave up people. I found out answers for myself. And I was now satisfied.
Then something felt wet. It was my eyes. A tear. My common sense said that yes, it would come down. It had to. So I waited for it to flow. Waiting for it to flow seemed like an eternity. As if the tear was suspended in a vertical horizon, trapped in the time zones of different worlds. Or may be it happens to people who never cry.
That one tear seemed strange. It didn't come out of the eyes easily.
I waited and waited.
Seemed like it had fallen in love with my eyes. It refus
Myths of relationshipsInto most relationships,Myths of relationships by krazyface
People come ladden with mutual ghosts of Christmases or Chanukkahs past
Every relationship is a British library of personal mythologies that may or may not work together
She's got daddy issues - I would if my father was Cronus
She's a touch obsessive, a Hera pursuing her Heracles
He makes his girls into his Echoes because 'they talked too much'
He's a bit of a Narcissus, too vain for words
But not all of us are about the Greek, with their togas and their water-diluted wine
Some of us are more into Indians,
Dancing with wolves, understanding bear spirits
But not so much people
Or maybe your last relationship was a french royal courting
So what's wrong about a bit of a Merlaison ballet?
Well, once we finished tiptoeing around and her prim and proper porcelain composure
Shattered into millions of tiny pieces, there was nothing left of her. What a royal shame!
We all come baring our own gifts, our own brand of myrrh or frankincense
In tow with our own s