hooked

For some time now i seem to be hooked onto old songs …especially those of meena kumari and trying to absorb each and every melancholic and melodious lyrics and music she had been bestowed upon and acted beautifully in…

People usually say that one should not hold grudges against people and should forgive and forget but one doesnt realize as much as it easy to do it, it is as much hard for some people and becomes a mean task for them observe…i know one such individual…meet Owais(thats me:P) … i dont know why…i dont know how and where but i seem to hold grudge every now and then …i have some really bad ones againsts some and i feel totally bad about it…but i cant help it…maybe i expect and trust too much giving the other person power to hurt me or rather use me…mayb that is what that doesnt make the crack go away from the glass when you try to join it back

also surprisingly am not hooked to food these days either

Back HOME

whoever said ‘theres no place like home’ surely knew what they were talking about

second day

Went to the field today…had the same nostalgic sad feeling as before however this time around i felt something was missing. though i knew the hustle bustle of the whole class now though seem to be missing, however the people exuded the same warmth willing to help us out…however something about either this trip,my unfinished work at home or God knows what seem to be out of place…spent more than what i did before seeing things around, i somehow seem to much more interested in helping these people out than focusing on my dissertation…the photographs have turned out pretty good and useable…lets see what happens…i unfortunately didnt submit in that story competition though had a story in mind but anyways will hopefully complete it tonite since i dont seem to be in a rush to sleep…and as the train howls tugging along towards its destination and announcing it from the nearby station, i sit here writing this while listening to surprisingly an english song…which is a rare occasion, it seems to go through my heart and meena kumari from pakeezah echoes in my mind with her dialogue of the train going through her heart…anyways think i’ll play some games before writing the story…

My first train experience

as i peeped out of the window waiting for my first train experience, the hauntingly empty station seemed to loom as if a someone had drenched the soul out of the body. the hustle bustle just a moment ago before the train arrived, was nowhere to be seen, guess that is what happens after a train robs station off its soul to give life to itself. The air conditioner seemed a bit too much but then again it was doing its work of dozin me off…waiting for the train to start i shifted my bag from one leg to another, waiting for my jab we met experience. going through the slums of one of the biggest metropolitan pf the world, as it geared forward, i somehow felt experience of being in the journey talked about by the poets and philosophers. As the train lurched forward moving around it wen through a series of stopping at various stations, everytime it felt like leaving behind a part of me. with no option but to move to the rhythm of the train i dozed off in the rocking cradle. as the train moved on forward i feel like being the passenger of the train of pakeezah passing through meena kumari’s heart giving her hopes of freedom