Madness and Mayhem - the Wintry Delhi of my Life

Well, I was off to Delhi for the last one month. It was like a whirlpool. Time and cigarettes burned fast over there in the December chill and life....

I had written a few poems there, on hallucinated nights spent tucked up in a 8 feet by 8 feet attic room whose windows couldn't be fastened where I spent much of my time with friend and fellow Comrade Somdutta, a few bottles of Old Monk, a few packets of the quintessential Pataka biri...

Most of these were written under the effect of the atmosphere and a few other things, often sitting in a pool of puke and thinking myriad thoughts which ranged from "Do the trees have eyes?" to "Alas, I've got no lover to love me and leave me alone and love me and leave me alone again..."

Here goes these little-big words and moments of epiphanic madness.....

And the last one was written on the First of January of this year, at four in the morning, perched atop a three hundred year old dilapidated mausoleum in South Delhi