Welcome to inkthink.

In this huge universe moulded by the different galaxies consisting of solar systems containing stars,planets and what not, I, a tiny, thoughtful resident of Earth would like to ink out my thoughts and make an attempt to get you entangled in a series of thoughts that I, myself chance upon often.Well, I earnestly hope that this blog of mine succeeds in spreading a precious smile across your face and gets you trapped in the web of mesmerising thoughts.Thanks for stopping by my blog !

Karwaan.

Old Couple Painting Couple Art PRINT old Couple - Art Print - from original painting by J Coates Original Oil Painting or Print

Picture Courtesy: Pinterest

I was sprawled over the sofa on a Sunday afternoon when I saw daadi slowly creep into daadu’s room. Switching the Netflix drama off, I craned my neck to watch her put the blanket over a blissfully unaware, steadily snoring daadu. Daadi pulled the curtains close and I pretended to scroll through my phone as I watched her tiptoe out of the room, not before throwing a subtle glance at daadu. She walked to the table where they kept their medicines and where daadu’s carvaan radio sat atop a faded album. She carefully blew the dust off the radio and adjusted the channel. ‘Abhi na jao chod kar’ spread its aura in our house. Continue reading

Remember to forget.

art

Art by: Steve Salo (Saatchi Art)

As the sunlight falls on my face,
It dawns on me that it’s a new day,
10 steps to the sink, I freshen myself,
13 steps to the kitchen, my fridge is empty.
I map my steps to the sofa, my feet dangling off it,
And while you bask in the blurred memories you’ve made,
I start making mine for the day.
Retracing steps, one at a time,
I walk past the wall to the room I cocoon myself in.
The clock has run out of batteries a long while ago,
The calendar stays yellowed, the pages frayed at the ends.
Splotches of paint stay smeared on a canvas,

Brushes unmoved and the piece of art seared.
The day, the month, the year, all forgotten,

I stay at the mercy of the Moon, the shadows and the sun.

Continue reading

Monochrome.

The Sound of Black and White, Encaustic, 18 by 11 inches

Image courtesy: Pinterest


Ropes of responsibility, strings of stress,
Coiled around you, now intertwined,
There are cuts on your skin,
There are clots in your blood,
Oh dear, how you wish to let loose!
You try to trudge ahead,
The weights of all the ropes on you,
Every step, you’re crumbling,
Yet you choose to move forth.
You come to a crossroad,
A myriad flickering all green, amber and red,
The air not breathable anymore,
The chaos encroaching, seemingly closing in on you.
Stories of a happy ending,
They seem to be a common folklore.
Your world now runs in monochrome,
The zebra crossing and the piano keys,
Black and White goes overpowering the coloured.
Butter fingers on the black and white keys,
A symphony unleashed, a sonata overpowering.
Vagabond, to the rest, the composition of the ballads travel,
To you, they hit straight home.
Every note she plays, not a tune she strays,
A memory replays itself, a fear vanquishes itself.
Mighty and strong you’ve stayed,
Every struggle through, your Kintsugi you made,
For every key she hit, broken bridges you crossed.
The signal, now, plain green, did you know?
You’d always manifested your ikigai.

Clouds and some rain.

So,it’s been quite some time since I hit the blog, well, more of a writer’s block, you could say? Anyway, with that slowly evaporating, I think I’m going to gear up to get the ink grooving in me. 

Update. I shifted to a new place. How long has it been? Almost a month. What I learnt? Living. In its true sense. Right from my childhood, I have been moving places – new people, new faces, that’s a ubiquitous scenario in my life. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for this lifestyle. I cry every time I leave a place and I cry every time I enter a new place. Before I let loose my Bakugans for that lane, I’m gonna stay firm on this one. Presently, this sounds more like a rant and well, at this point, I admit it is. 

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Watch your step.

After two, make that almost three weeks of cooping up in the room, except for the routine of heading to work and coming back to the room, I decided to step out. To a place that’s like 5 minutes away from my location, but progress nevertheless. Who said moving to a new place is easy? You think it is? Well, good for you. Google mapped the place, got the time and location ready and I set out for the much planned solo trip. As I locked my room, I realized there’s no one to say bye to. As I stepped outside I realized, it’s cold outside. Maybe cold inside too? As I walked slowly, I realized how busy people were in lives of their own. Well plotted areas of interest with people moving about like spiders weaving their own webs and building their domain with utmost intricacy, the only difference here being we are trapped in our own webs. Pause. Think about it. 

I couldn’t help but feel isolated. Here’s a note. This is not a cry for help. It is not cribbing either. It is just what transpired. You know how they say every single being is basically barely a speck in the cosmos. I felt that. Nobody who knew me, nobody whom I knew. It was strange because it gave me a blow of confidence and with that, it took some away too. With everything moving about at a roller coaster-ed pace in my life, at this point, I felt – for every step I took forward, I was taking ten back. I trudged ahead, came across a beautiful lake. One step forward now. There was a serenity it possessed. A stark contrast to the storm brewing up in my head. Still, it overpowered and for a brief while, it managed to subdue the raging rains of thought in my mind. There comes a point in life where one starts to question everything. Probably, that phase arrives twice. Once when you were an infant oh-so-eager to know the working of the world around you, the second when you’re an adult and you’re now exhausted from knowing the working of the world around you. Right? 

But. Yes, there’s always a but. There’s a purpose we are all here to serve. I suppose so. There is that one cluster of people out there who are looking out for you. Maybe one yet to come or maybe one that’s already there. *Quick note, if you know you’ve been there for me, here’s a Thank you and while you’re reading this, you know who you are.* I have this habit of pondering over my own questions and finding answers to them by planting it carefully into conversations and finding different points of view and then rationalizing them. Seen the clothes in a washing machine after they’re washed? They seem to appear in a mess but once you untangle them from each other, you’re free to hang them up to dry. I give this example to reinforce the fact that I’m learning to live. And then, you pick your OOTD. Much the same way, I go about my thoughts. A clusterfuck of them, but somehow I get them straightened out and the saga continues. However for that period, when I can read my thoughts, the world seems to be a better place to live in. Don’t you think so too?

I know you maybe tired of hearing that there’s a plan out there for you. And for the ones who are tired of the suspense, I feel you. But I think life’s a puzzle, it’s a picture of pieces scattered around and it’s waiting for you to have the courage to pick those pieces up, let alone placing the pieces together and this is regardless of the fact that the puzzle might seem tiresome to finish or that you feel like you have less time. Well, nobody’s figured out a puzzle at one go, right? It’s through iterations. Frustrating ones and some simple ones but an intertwined one, nevertheless. Life’s giving you chances – take it up. You wish to write? Write. You wish to dance? You don’t even need to have a song, loose yourself to your rhythm. You wish to sing? Get that melody out. You wish to study ahead? Yes, spread your wings across and fly. But you get your trial, cut it through. At the end, you know, the picture you’ve placed together, with your own effort, will be worth it! It’s clouds and some rain, then it’s a clear sky. Endrant.

Anglicized tongues.

Picture Courtesy: Pinterest.

You enter my field of vision,
Sporting a little black dress, well fitted,
The heels clicking past the wooden floor.
The world blurs, a phase out here.
Your perfume casts a spell on me,
Your eyes, kohl lined sighting my soul now.
Not the first time this is happening.
Whipped, I phase out yet again.
You trip over your own feet,
Unable to keep the pout anymore.
Baby, how do you do this, every single time?
I stare at you, mesmerized,
Whirlpooled in your honey brown eyes.
You mumble a few words I fail to decipher.
And then you begin pedaling a rant.
My anglicized tongue falls like a wounded soldier forth your slurred words.
Your sobriety of thoughts getting me drunk this time,
I stutter, I stammer, while you speak your mind.
So unfettered and untethered, time stands still.
Careful with my words, I trudge like a camel with water.
It’s bubbling, it’s stirring a mess with my emotions.
And I phase out, this time, surprised at what I say.
Strangely enough, it is I who utters the three words,
I love you, I say and you pass out in my arms.
I get a mumble back and I already know the answer,
As I carry you safe to our home.

Spotless.

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Picture courtesy: Pinterest.

————————-TRIGGER WARNING————————-

1. A piece of paper you are. A valueless blank sheet. White and pale. I adorn you with black ink. Scramble and scribble right across the freckles on your skin. You tell others you’re shadowed by me, virtues of yours muddied with my habits. I pick on you only because I don’t know how else I can grasp your attention. I feel a part of the spotlight only when I share the stage with you and you tell me you’re better off being a vacuous sheet of paper? That you’re better off being alone? How am I to agree with that? A pen, just idle with ink, I wish to make you feel beautiful. A bully, you call me. Is it what I am to you?

2. Ever had your heart fluttering to the sound of someone’s voice? Mine has. Hence, I choose you. I pick you from the budding and blooming flowers out there. Plucked out of existence. She likes me, she likes me not. You are my medium. Convince me now. Common, tell me. Pushed into the superstitious worlds I am. Hold my hand and lead me to a place that makes me believe a utopian world exists. With her. Tell me that she will be mine. Ended up with one petal of you. Stopped at she likes me not. Pieces of you lay scattered on the ground. Pieces of my heart next to you now. A bully, you call me. For tearing you apart. Can’t you see me torn?

3. I hold the blade. Sharp and shining. I look down. Stare at both my hands. A hand of mine pushed forth, the other slides past. Reminds me of how I play the violin. The melody, this time, coming from my own skin. The blade goes past and comes back. Drops of blood trickling on the floor. An odd calm through the chaos. A numbing sensation welcomes me to the realm of joy. An eerie silence. I, my own bully. What have you got to say now? Were you a participant too? You think you were the cause for this? Causation and effect, they call it. Calm it. Broken yet beautiful. I have my reasons. I needed the trigger to make myself realize that I am capable too. I paint my own horizons and the trigger did it. A bully, I call myself. But this time, the good came out of it. The violin? I stopped playing it. Metaphor. Pause.

Deranged.

The Art Showcase — Girl by Xi Zhang

Picture Courtesy: Xi Zhang

Today I hold the doors of my mind open for you to venture in. There’s this massive blend of overthinking, passion, happiness, love, melancholy, a little tinge of exclusion, an element of a recluse, there’s excitement, the zeal and zest, there’s insanity and then there’s you, waiting at the entrance where it’s all calm. The calm before a raging storm. Can you picture it? You standing at the doorstep? You don’t know what’s at the other end of this. Oh honey, think twice. Are you ready for this? Aren’t you curious to know people? Is there an air of suspense fogging up in your mind or is there a -how does it matter, I don’t even know her- kinda vibe buzzing in your head. I’m telling you – stay cautious. Wanna be a rebel? Bring it on, bitch. What if you see a shard of yourself in me? Wanna figure out? Step in. Uh. Watch out. There are shards of glass too. The state right now? Deranged. Completely deranged.

I like you. You’ve outplayed your mind here. There’s this labyrinth. Downright crazy. A wave of apprehension strikes in. Hold on, I think I’m having a panic attack. How did I let you get into my head? I do not let anybody see my mind. Opaque? Pshh. More like a mirror. What you see is what you want to see. You choose to not look into mind. But, wait a second. You want to. That’s what you did here. Then what are you doing? Confused? Stay confused. You think what you think it is but to be true, it is not what you’ve been thinking all this while. Okay, this is getting too convoluted. Pause. Stop. Play over. I think I can give a context. It’s easy to trick the human mind right? Not your own, someone else’s. This concept? Deranged. Completely deranged. Continue reading

Black and Blue.

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Someday.


There resides in your body,
A space, so black and blue.
You choose to hide it under a cloth,
Or with a patchwork of your skin.
The mark, it colours itself,
Getting purpler everyday.
Your nerves, a tangled web,
An intricate passage to a bloody mess.
A painful portrayal of Van Gogh’s painting,
An artwork to be reckoned with.
A cycle of seasons all connected,
To a space so black and blue.
Continue reading

Toxic.

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Picture Courtesy: Pinterest

Shards of glass etching into my skin,
They’re now resident in the layers within.
The keys of this keyboard,
The words you say.
They push the pieces far beneath.
A bout of blood silently oozes out,
Spouting the poison in me,
I notice it wiggle out of my skin,
Onto the ground, it drops.
A long while later,
Made of glass, now I am,
Brittle and fragile, I’ve become.
Inch by inch, you nudge me to my end,
Pushed over the edge, I am.
Shards of glass scattered over the floor,
You don’t notice me beneath.
You walk over me, wounding yourself,
And it’s now I feel the pain.

Free.

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Picture Courtest: Pinterest.

I stood at the end of the ledge,
Staring straight into the devil’s eye.
Shades of blue in my limited expanse of sight,
I held my breath and took the plunge
Free falling away like a trapeze artist at ease
My feet looped in only to the threads of gravity.
Whispering sweet nothings to the air,
I coo through the dive,
I feel a lot of something – a something unpinpointed.
It’s like you’re watching yourself jump in,
The astral projection kind.
A rush of euphoria attacking me.
I know this time, I’m not afraid.
No strings attached, I feel it cutting through.
A feeling of a prolonged sickness now gone,
I feel alive in a long time. Continue reading

Addiction.

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I’d drown myself in fiction,
For the huddle of words enticed me,
The woven wreath of metaphors,
Often whisked me away from reality.
I’d seek a road through paragraphs,
I hitchhiked through the author’s plot,
Walking through the bridges of ballads,
I inked out all my memories.
Lost yet found amidst a jumble of 26 letters,
A cup of coffee, now a stereotype,
The stories in a book, my enamored love.

Mute.

The Untamed (2016) aesthetic movie lines wise words.jpg

MUTE.


1. I feel like I do not belong. To the place, to the mud, to the people, to the house or to the air around. A sense of being a misfit constantly claws at me. A misfit in this world. One end of the string tied to this place while the other hopelessly flailing around. I feel myself in a conundrum. Do people understand me or do they put forth a pretense? Do they know who I am or are they yet again trapped in the reflections that they have perceived of me? Do I know them well enough or is this a rewind of something that’s already happened before? Snap. Nope, no Marvel theories working out here. Maybe, it’s a reverie. Nope, still not out of it.

2. I read a book. I skim through the pages. One, two, three, so many. The plot, seems interesting enough. My attention, to the character. I read yet again. I try to find a tinge of myself in the character. Or vice versa. Something relatable? Not yet. I find metaphors. I scour through them all. Suffice it to say that, I feel slightly content with the analogy I draw to myself being a metaphor. Cliched, I suppose yes.  

3. I walk past a garden. I do a double take. I trail back to the entrance. A brick lined path welcoming me. I trudge through it. A breeze rushing in to greet me, a few birds chirping, probably gossiping about my arrival. I take it all in. A fragrance clouds my senses, a quiet aura holds me in its embrace. I push away. The birds chatter yet again. The touch-me-not withdraws. I still do not feel a sense of belonging. A perpetual feeling of calm isn’t what I can relate to.

4. I now see an apartment. I walk into a flat. Don’t ask me how I know it’s yours. I just do. I look into your eyes. You tell me you are my lover. I search in those hazel orbs, a place where I reside. Maybe it’s in this lover of mine, I presume. To a certain extent, I feel a something I cannot quite name reigning over the range of my feelings. A few sweet words we exchange and then it’s back to square one. I feel restless. Question after question pestering me no end. I leave your apartment leaving you bewildered. I keep walking, I know where.

5. I find a camera. I look through it. A landscape of my body. A portrait of my thoughts. A cluttered mess. Like a bird’s haphazard nest. Perched on top a tree the others can only see but something not within their reach. A little aloof yet a dwelling to a tiny family. I feel connected, not entirely but I think I’m getting there. I fidget with the modes. Monochrome? A little too dull. Fitting it auto, nah doesn’t look like it’s working out for me. I fidget a little more. Turning the knobs back and forth. I end up a teeny bit frustrated. I leave.

6. I walk into a house. They call it my house. The walls are painted with fading memories, the floor is marbled with reflections of a few other people and me. I fail to draw a line to where they lead me to. Confused. I find a remote. A button looks like it’s just calling me to press it. A ruckus in my mind. I press it. MUTE. Too many people talking and suddenly it’s a quiet place. A sudden static hum takes over. Blocking my ears from hearing anything else. My vision blurs and the next thing I know is I’m in another place where I know I live. I live. Yes, I live here. And now is when I get the answer to my question: What if there was another me in a dimension where I knew I belonged?

 

2 am, the clock says.

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A beautiful tangled mess.


I
plop onto my bed,
Draping a blanket of thoughts over me,
A moment of clairvoyance engulfs me
While I choose the pathway to disdain.
Excavated from the depths of sentiments,
Fueled by an overthinking mind,
The Satan comes after me,
As I willingly give myself away.
I tell him I do not need his help,
For I dig my own grave,
I steer my way for my soul,
And tour through the now lambent labyrinth.
I turn around to look at the clock
2 AM, it says,
A breathy sigh escapes me,
As I stay still staring at the stars above,
A blank buzz on my mind,
I see the thoughts go haywire,
Dispersing and congregating,
A fading fashion of their own.
I throw a dart at one,
I watch a thought stand brave,
The rest seem to scatter away,
Like panicked birds on a run. Continue reading

A stitch of love.

Love, Rosie. Lily Collins, Sam Claflin
A string of unspoken words,

A series of observed actions,
With a yarn of trust and belief,
You knot it there slowly,
Seeping through the pores of my skin,
A step further,
It goes deeper than it has already been.
Patterns of your emotions hemmed onto my heart,
Your stitch of love sewn on me like a piece of art.
Incandescent and iridescent,
I fathom all shades of your love,
Embroidered with lust,
Sequined with warmth.
Unshaken and undispersed,
You go on with your work,
While I stand mesmerized,
To the enigma you make me look.
I feel empowered,
With your stitches all on me,
For your love, it seamlessly bound
Every broken part of me.