Day 296/366

It’s just one of those days

Where nothing makes sense

You’re falling out of buses

And depression seeps in.

There’s blurriness in your vision,

About the world, you don’t give a damn

Somebody calls to scream at you

You want to kill him with just your hands.

Lurking around in the corner,

The night, like my shadow, stands.

Waiting for me to embrace it,

It offers to lend a helping hand.

Into the spirits I flow,

Slowly, taking its shape.

Can’t the madness of this day end-

In a lover’s bed or arms?

Day 286/366

He knew I hated rum. Still, he’d conveniently forget to buy the whiskey I wanted before he came home every Friday. Inevitably, almost as per a well executed plan, I would end up getting drunk on the khamba of Old Monk with him. Initially, I’d hold my nose and gulp it down to guilt him into it. Eventually, I fell in love with his taste. Erm, I mean, that of the rum and coke. “DSP Black is NOT whiskey,” he’d shout. Having finished college and gotten a job that allows me to afford better, I can’t help but agree.

Day 265/366

The beauty of that perfect drink in that perfectly shaped glass can never be replaced. Can it? I like whiskey. And of late, wine. Do you? Doesn't it just make you feel out of the world when you feel that cold ice dripping down the glass, knowing that the alcohol is hitting you, slowly and steadily? It's a beautiful emotion. That's all I can say.