Blog Shifted

I know this was rather sudden and quick, but I have deicded to shift my blog from here to wordpress.
You can now find it here.

Please do come to my new abode. :)

Paradoxia

I started this blog a a few days back on an impulse. But, I never got a chance to tell you about me.
I am a lost soul stumbling through life's gigantic zoo.
I am a dreamy idiot who smiles subconsciously from ear to ear during all those silly romantic scenes in those silly romantic movies.
I am the toughie who manages to sit through tear-jerkers like "Black" with my eyes as dry as sand.
I am Miss perfect, who knows exactly how to be a perfect lady.
I am the crazy friend who wouldn't care if the whole joint is staring at both of you and if the Matre de throws you out, just 'coz we were laughing too hard.
I am obsessive about grammar, correcting someone is as involuntary as breathing to me.
I love singing old songs at the top of my voice in the back of autos with some equally insane friends for company.

In one word, I am an Oxymoron...
A collage of odds an ends, a red sock here, a yellow sweater there, a lost nut, a missing bolt, a key without a lock, a penny no longer sought, a hidden diamond or two, and a mosaic of multicolored memories..

And this here is my place where I relax, sit back and look at life from behind my gorgeous red-rimmed glasses.

The Mosaic

Its 2 in the morning and I am sitting in my favorite place in all the world... my little window seat overlooking an ordinary stretch of road, just like any other there is. Yet for me this ordinary little stretch is something more than just that, to me it is unique because it feels my own.
I sit here often in my little nook of the sky, late at night, watching that little grey stretch, colored alternately black and yellow by the lone working light of the twin-bulbed street lamp. It’s never completely quiet here, and yet there is a sense of peace as the sound of the next car catches on just in time with the string left trailing by the last.
I sit here with my windows wide open to the outside, but my curtains closed to the inside of the room I live in, breathing in the smell of night. Each part of the day is full of so many different smells, the early morning smells of dew and flowers, afternoon of dust and fumes and the scent of evening cradles all within its bouquet; the fumes, the chaats, the romantic roses and the mosquito coils. But the smell of night is like itself, subtle and graceful, mysterious and unique. You can't attribute it to anyone or anything other than just that...the night.
I sit here when everyone has gone to sleep, and all that remains awake is me and the lights from the rocky hill on the other side of the road.
Sometimes I sit here thinking about my day, sometimes about my future, sometimes about what's gone by and sometimes about the meaning of life itself.
But the best days are those when I just sit here without thinking, without listening, without feeling anything but the calm familiarity of the night, till everything else is wiped out, till I too feel a part of this enchanting mosaic, like the grey road and the half lit lamp, like the rocky hill and its ever lit lights, like the peaceful sound and the scentless smell...till I am as much a part of this eternal spell as its victim...
~The girl behind red specs