To feel full.

Alright. 2.10 AM. Anand Shankar in the years. Switched off the machine and switched myself on. Been ages I thought of myself. Everything around changes too rapid. As they put it this way,"you scale too rapid when you seem too busy to bother about self." That seems to be playing its game ow. Few lines. Suck In. Ash Off. Blow out. Grab pen again.

Unchanged tees for every couple of days, remained minutes in my Berry waiting to be finished, half read Rushdie's dedication to Padma Laxmi. Convinced to be following the divided business gain IPL, where God striking heads on with the luckiest mortal Dhoni, often visiting thoughts of her. May be above lines fulfil the narration of life, thats been going on for few days. Yndi Halda's either Illuminate my Heart or We Flood Empty Lakes often pay visits reminding me of my abandoned side, being normal is the new in thing, and I am one of those people who follow trending ins.

As I write this, Jack's there sleeping, followed by more sleep which came out after saturated episodes of insomnia. Jack got lost himself in documentary footages describing trivial things like Jack Daniel's History or Ancient aliens' pre-mature-ish behaviours on the more ancient planet Earth. Jack's profound and as already said, too profane for his generation.

Surrounded by basic salted, to be called crispy chips from a local store to serve the apatite when bank statements run all time low and a grand, seldom visible, rare piece of antique Baileys, to sound technical, a mixture of Irish coffee and whiskey. I write this piece to feel full. Here comes the abrupt full stop.

P.S : To confess, English breakfast is classic.

&

Pawan Kalyan is back.