It rains here in fits and spurts superimposed on a general background of rain. Broken cobbles punch through tattered streams of water on the streets. Mumbai is, well, bomb blasts and extremist Hinduism. Bombay, you bitch, why do you make me love you so? Sunday, January 31. Adrenaline zithers through your bloodstream, I tell myself. Its 4 AM, and I just want to go home.

People said she was mad. Sunday, September 06, 2009. Such a mad paroxysm of love for strangers. Is not normal, they say. But staring out of the cocoon in which I live,. As each day rushes towards a violet death. And the world ages before my eyes,. I have had innumerable first loves. Men lean against graphiti-ridden walls,. Shadows on their faces and black hole eyes.

The Incident of the Blundering Blogger. Saturday, July 15, 2006. All of a sudden, my stars seem to shine just that little bit brighter. Thursday, July 06, 2006. Writing in third person always gives me that extra sense of security. Tuesday, June 20, 2006. Wednesday, April 12, 2006.

In 2015, I will write in short bursts of sentences, because long paragraphs over-explain and essays are like unwittingly long conversations lacking wonder. Because we are lost to porn, paranoia and propaganda and no one needs to be spoken to. I will not follow the book because I am bored with the unoriginality of thought, art and philosophy. I had thought i could live vicariously through you. That i could lie like concrete, passive! To an Absconding Poet.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new,and God fulfils himself in many ways,lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Friday, February 1, 2008. Where do we go from here, my friend? Things have started losing meanings again. Saturday, January 19, 2008. He was a strong man I knew. Wednesday, October 31, 2007.

Sunday, August 9, 2015. Plight of Secular Bloggers in Bangladesh. Know That You Have Won.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010. Sometimes, it is useless to wonder. Why bats play on the radio every purple night. Look at them rise in flight. Bringing news of Delhi to the Savannas. There goes Papa Bat,. Off to his morning nap. Mama turns on the radio louder. Look what cousin Freddie has to say. The sun loop-de-looping every day. The bat from Kentucky whispers. He moves alone through .

Wednesday, August 16, 2006. Ladies and gentlemen, let me present Augie March. The new band on radio blog. You may have never heard of them. But not long ago I ran into them at a smoky bar on a chilly night out in the port city of Fremantle. A couple of fairly ordinary guys, looking slightly too old to be pop stars took the stage and broke out into song. But the music is just fanta.