Happy Anniversary Siddharth

I normally come back to this space when I break a promise....and then I promise myself that I ll update this space regularly....Well...another promise broken!...and another might be made..... but alas! Guess I dont care any longer.....I realized this a long time back but to convince myself about it is an ardrous task altogether....
I was thinking about the people who matter...and that to ironically today....the most important day in the life of one Mr. Siddharth Chadha.....one I left behind.....alone? Guess not.....all I know is that I dont matter any longer......and is that what matters to me? I wish it did not......but there are days, like today....when all I care about is not being where I was....but I long to see things the way I used to.....smell the air as if it were a part of me.....feel the way I thought I was meant to.....forever....and it did last forever! Just that the foever ended before I did......


Lost Love

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence--drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.

by Robert Graves......