Song of the sirens

the poetry has gone out of the window
the smell of coffee in the mug is two days old and the the scroungy beard is a week old.
the newspapers piling high on my floor are modest indication to a bachelors disdain for current affairs.

walking alone in the corridors eating snickers bars at 3 in the morning and singing old hindi songs aloud have become the rigeur de jour to stay awake and read something.

as i stand here staring at the moon on his slow journey across the stars , i hear that faint siren song of wind in the peepul tree.
sending me back into amorous reverie of the days in classes spent around her as the siren songs wafted into the class room.
maybe i am shipwrecked now.
but i guess i m really happy to be somewhere afterall, rather than be lost at sea , in that gigantic puddle of brine with unspeakable monstrosities and lost treasure. here on some bleak land i feel i can eke my way out into a new life.
as the small hours make way for the approching sun's procession . my energy seems to ebb away like that of a vampire at the sight of sunlight.

is this the calm before the real storm i ask my self again and again, i panic and brace myself sometimes , and

nothing happens

nothing happens

at the end of each day
i find myself in one piece and
i grow more scared..

slowly painfully scared..

maybe she will then come for me..
maybe..
just maybe..

joking guyss............ havin a gala time.. unfortunately camera is in basecamp -madurai