I wrote another poem today. This was the eighth one that traces itself back to you. You inspired all of these at least, if not many more. You have read some of them and some of them would be completely new to you, that is - if you ever wish to read those.

I have so many questions. I have so many answers. No question matches the answers. No answer matches the questions.

It's all breaking. It's all shattering. It's all melting down.

Life is irreparably damaged.

Would you like to have some evening tea?

I don't know where I am heading to and what I am doing! I have no idea why I am behaving the way I am behaving and I have no idea of things I've been babbling! I don't know what my next step would be and what mischief would I commit next!

Go away from me - don't try to be even a bystander. I don't know whom will I hurt next and I don't know what will I destroy next! May be, it will be your affection or your sympathy or your pity towards me - go away before I destroy it all. Go away before you also begin to hate me. Go away before I hate myself more for hurting you.

Wear the old coat and buy the new book.

From a bookmark that I happened to pick from the payment counter of Crossword. Somewhere inside, it hit a chord and said so simply a thing that I always felt so deeply.

Wrote a line of poetry after so many days, or may be months. Don't know will it ever be completed or be left like me - forever!

I deleted all of my Orkut album today. Not in the spirit of destruction but to start afresh. Had deleted my accounts twice in the same spirit - to have a memory less appearance. Had tore off many pages of my life - in the same spirit. Alas! Life cannot be started afresh - memory less.

Since last week, at least four people have told me, while talking to me on phone, that I am very silent and asked me if I am busy / I'm not interested / I am bored. It wasn't any of these. I was not busy. I was not disinterested. I was not bored. Perhaps I do not have anything left to say. Perhaps I've just fallen out with words. Perhaps something I wrote long ago is coming true now.

अपनी आवाज़ भूल जाता हूँ
कितना खामोश रह रहा हूँ मैं|

Today I read, "you know you are old when you spend more time thinking about money than sex". I think I am very old. In fact, I've always been very old.

How does it feel to God when (s)he is distressed and looks up and finds noone!