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Buddha of Koregaon Park

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. It happened to me when I caught myself staring at a still moment in time, slightly withered yet fresh with emotion; a photograph of my young father. The stance, the swagger, the paunch, the gorgeous blowing hair, the faintly askance smile (ok I exaggerate but you get what I am saying right? If it weren’t for out-of-style pencil thin moustache it was me, in a foreign land amongst strangers looking back at me. Will I be my father’s son. On the whole Pune is a...

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Buddha of Koregaon Park | scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com Reviews

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Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. It happened to me when I caught myself staring at a still moment in time, slightly withered yet fresh with emotion; a photograph of my young father. The stance, the swagger, the paunch, the gorgeous blowing hair, the faintly askance smile (ok I exaggerate but you get what I am saying right? If it weren’t for out-of-style pencil thin moustache it was me, in a foreign land amongst strangers looking back at me. Will I be my father’s son. On the whole Pune is a...

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Buddha of Koregaon Park | scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com Reviews

https://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. It happened to me when I caught myself staring at a still moment in time, slightly withered yet fresh with emotion; a photograph of my young father. The stance, the swagger, the paunch, the gorgeous blowing hair, the faintly askance smile (ok I exaggerate but you get what I am saying right? If it weren’t for out-of-style pencil thin moustache it was me, in a foreign land amongst strangers looking back at me. Will I be my father’s son. On the whole Pune is a...

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scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com

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Buddha of Koregaon Park: HE CALLS TO ME ACROSS THE MILES

http://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com/2007/06/he-calls-to-me-across-miles.html

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Friday, June 8, 2007. HE CALLS TO ME ACROSS THE MILES. He calls to me across the miles. Night winds carry his whispers. They float on the breeze and through my windows. Falling gently upon my ears- Hush -I hear him now. He calls to me from the heavens. Glittering stars cannot compare to the sparkle of his eyes. When he looks at me,. I am consumed by the fireI see him now. He calls to me through my dreams. Dancing together in the shadows of my sleep. He calls to me.

2

Buddha of Koregaon Park: June 2007

http://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com/2007_06_01_archive.html

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. It happened to me when I caught myself staring at a still moment in time, slightly withered yet fresh with emotion; a photograph of my young father. The stance, the swagger, the paunch, the gorgeous blowing hair, the faintly askance smile (ok I exaggerate but you get what I am saying right? If it weren’t for out-of-style pencil thin moustache it was me, in a foreign land amongst strangers looking back at me. Will I be my father’s son. On the whole Pune is a...

3

Buddha of Koregaon Park: ONCE AGAIN!

http://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com/2007/06/once-again.html

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. On the whole Pune is a quiet city. Like a well disciplined bachelor it lives, rising with the sun but spending the first few hours in quiet contemplation slowly getting ready for the day during which it puts in a good seven hours of work then gently winding down to settle for a quiet dinner and a early night, awaiting the next day. Purple evenings drowned into darkness with spectacular blaze of colour. Restless sparrows jetted through the air in seeming...

4

Buddha of Koregaon Park: WE ARE

http://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-are.html

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Friday, June 8, 2007. These days go by,. Witout rhyme or reason. The sun rises as it sets. And has done forever so. Who are we to find a pattern. Some recognition of divinity. It is our lot to believe,. To have faith when there is darkness. Maybe the light will shine. And chase away demons. Maybe you will find solace,. An atonement of sorts. Or maybe we will fade away. Ashes evaporated to dust. But this is the time we are given,. To live and breathe. In pain we survive.

5

Buddha of Koregaon Park: LEAVING RITA

http://scribblers-diaries.blogspot.com/2007/06/leaving-rita.html

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 11, 2007. Rita stepped out of my life to just another name then I began to forget, first her body, then her hands, her hair, her nose, her voice but those eyes I could still see staring at me in accusation, in acceptance of my animalness. I couldn’t forget those how much ever I tried. She was better off without me, I believed that. I didn’t really forget her. But she wasn’t Rita anymore, just a memory, a memory of myself. Whose story was it? Hers, them, mine? Ajay wa...

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Buddha of Koregaon Park

Buddha of Koregaon Park. Monday, June 18, 2007. It happened to me when I caught myself staring at a still moment in time, slightly withered yet fresh with emotion; a photograph of my young father. The stance, the swagger, the paunch, the gorgeous blowing hair, the faintly askance smile (ok I exaggerate but you get what I am saying right? If it weren’t for out-of-style pencil thin moustache it was me, in a foreign land amongst strangers looking back at me. Will I be my father’s son. On the whole Pune is a...

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