Arunoday Singh

Green tea left brewing far too long.

Long walks on a dirty street, hunting for a patch of green.

A young dog with the eyes of an old wolf.

The literary equivalent of a harmonica before Bob Dylan picked it up.

Sleeping on your side of the bed in an unfamiliar room.

The first cup of coffee after a great night.

The first page of a great novel, written by a writer you’ve never heard of before.

The first night in a lonely city, watching the lights twinkling below from a window you can’t open.

Full moon thoughts in the Delhi sun.

Watching the prettiest girl say the ugliest things in the sweetest voice.

A lost soul in disguise.

Where the lost and the forgotten meet and toast to the setting sun.

The last thought you have before you fall asleep.

That dream you need to but will never recall.

A New York State of Mind thinking Indian thoughts.

That new Jay-Z album playing on blast in a black and yellow cab, and even the cabbie bobbing his head.  Like this.

Finest wine drunk off the wrist of the finest dime, with her eyes on yours.

Muddy Waters’ “Hoochi Coochie Man” playing everytime you walk into a room.

An irresistible force on vacation in the Mediterranean, sipping MaiTais, head resting on glistening thighs.

A Spanish Guitar played in the middle of  a Bombay traffic jam.

Technicolour dreams in a sepia print.

Sinatra singing with a broken microphone.

The illest shit smoked on a wet sticky night.

An insomniac dreamer…

Forever Young….

Forever I..

Forever.

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