Friday, February 8, 2008


  • It bothered me to wear the author’s mask that was hanging on this wall. A mask always needs to have a face inside, to become a mask. So in a way, without this botheration on my part, the mask would not ever function. I pushed my face in the mould and felt the welcoming vacuum: I shall belong to it.

  • After fixing the mask, I held my breath. A trembling noise crawled on my face.I sensed vaguely that the mask was making a hole in my consciousness – a hole that ate up along with chunks of memories, unexpected fringes of conversations and unfocused contours of sights.

  • I was warned in a dream later, of storms forming at the horizon. 


WandereR said...

I love the way you write. It looks very spontaneous to me. I hope the mask has turned out well. And your writings are really deep. It takes a while for me to tune into your mind set with which you have written. Keep writing more, I would definitely love to read more of you. Do let me know if you write a book :P
A fan

ARUN said...

@ wanderer
it's a fond responsibility to have a reader; hope i never disappoint you