Friday, April 22, 2016




A lifetime to forget  everything you ever held close,

Framed and boxed away like old photograph,

To be found in a rubble, as antique inheritance,

By a child still with innocence.


Those you held in tight embrace,

With love and trust, are far gone,

In miles, and in memories.

And you see them light years later,

Their past, your present,

Your present, to them still not beckoned.


Would words ever heal

The scars of words,

As fire for fire,

Stirs a rebirth-

A phoenix from the end,

A beginning to forget, to mend.

Can we all forget the years 'tween,

Can what's lost be found,

Befuddled days buried in calendars,

Magic potion to a legendary curse.


Till then, the past I hold to cherish,

You, a dream, still and perfect,

As you were the day you flew away,

To a land East, closer to the day.


The threads undone shall be woven,

Cloistered years, forgotten,

The blood we share, bespoken,

The love, of the closest kin.

Saturday, March 12, 2016

But, it could be ours

   A scrawl in the margin of a tattered book-

And memories tinted in yellow antique lights,

              Play deep in your irises;


                    And in mine,

                        our love.

           In abeyance, we could live,

               And in that moment,
                         we love;

         The world would cease to be,

Slowly, like a half-remembered dream;


                     All there is,
  Is a book with someone's name on it.

             Not yours, not mine.

      And that scrawl on the margin,

            Not yours, not mine;

                It could be ours.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Sorrow's embrace

Sorrow's embrace;

The long silence of a full moon night-

The reading light, a mature whiskey to bitter moonshine.


Sans the sound of the ceiling fan,

The aircon. a whimpering ghost behind dusty curtains.






And the sorrow's embrace,
To last a lifetime.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Note to self

Be not hurt by unkind words or raging anger,
Be not felled by tumultuous whispers;
But hear, unnerved by tone or slight,
Unmoved by belligerence or hate.

Neither wrath, nor the glutton,
But the poisons of those base
And so vile,  eat away
All that is good and worthy of life.

Don't be afraid,
But apologize for your faults,
And thank for praises that be,
But never be consumed by pride.

People may come and people may go,
But you go on forever;
All that lasts as time moves on,
Are those pillars-of laughter, of life.

A friend is forever,
Or at least till you forget yourself. 

Thursday, November 12, 2015


My deepest desire is to let go, get tipsy, and laugh with you.

Just us, you and I, alone, 
                       the world held back by the walls we have raised through our dreams, in love.

In love

Nothing more, nothing less, 
just the intimacy which only souls in eons of togetherness can make.  

I want to hold you, hug you, squeeze you and not let go;
                                                             till you push me away, breathless 

and we laugh together at our silly noses.

No thoughts to harbour, no words to bind the unsaid whispers.

I want it to be never ending, you and I, holding hands, knowing that the other is there.

That carefree laughter, 
unafraid of  life, 
untainted by the foibles of civilisation, 
unrestrained by the                                     nameless-formless.

That would be the day I come alive, and no one but you will know me, as I am.

I wait. 

The art of patience isn't waiting for the right moment, but knowing which isn't. 

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

I have learnt the beauty of this silence that screams through me


I have learnt
                      the beauty of this silence
                                                                that screams through me.

                           Hopelessly I await
      for the silence to awake'
                           and seize the belligerent day.


I have learnt
                      the beauty of this silence
                                                                that screams through me.

                      It resides within
      like a novel disease
                      begging to be found and read.

It pulls  at me
                      from the inside
of its stuffy white room.
                        It wants more
than I can ever give,
                                                                or dare to hope about giving.


I have learnt
                      the beauty of this silence
                                                                that screams through me.

                      I watch it
       wordlessly, sharing a moment,
                           silence and I, together we cry.


Thursday, September 3, 2015

The beast

A scrawl on the margins of a little red book,
Those endless hours of drudgery- to be educated,
To become a grownup, to forget yourself
And tell the voice in your head to be silent.

Silence. You hold it all back, like a dam-
A dreaded metaphor overused, almost meaningless.
You will let go, Who can you be,
But yourself?

The memory of a friend,
Forever to haunt, forever to remember,
That even an unwavering smile,
Holds beneath a turbulence.

Pointless questions on existence,
Rummaging through cenotaph texts,
Expert discussions with philosophy majors-
Lustrous grandeur, fawned intelligence.

Emptiness. It is right there.
You can't run away, and are afraid to embrace.
Unblemished reflections, edited to fit a fantasy
Which you forever dream of, but can't quite remember.

The beast. It resides within,
Yawning, stretching, scratching itself in anticipation.
Afraid of it, of yourself, and the world at large,
You maintain an arm's distance.

Hands outstretched. Can you trust again?
Hope, believe? You have to; smile at the beast.
Neither can you tame, nor can you set it free,
You watch each other, like old foes who want to be friends.

Thursday, June 4, 2015


The first winds of monsoon glide,
Stirring a storm, of birds affright.

Memories fade away;
On the walls, a shadow play of the last rays.

The sun shall set today,
Goodbyes to an aunt, who will lose her way.

The dogs howler at people long dead,
The darkness gnaws, while waxy eyes melt.

I am but a child, still,
In despair, I cry shrill.

The pillars of old are cold,
They whisper fates foretold.

There within it lies,
Secretive little muffled cries.

It grows, as if in a womb,
Bigger and bigger it looms.

I beg it to leave,
Offer it nectar through a sieve.

All it does is just live,
Swallowing every last of my will.

I sway in faux elan,
Tracing the forgotten Orion.

I let it be,
Hopefully it will consume me.


Wednesday, April 22, 2015


A never ending summer,
And the light whitewashes life
In that deep impersonal tinge,
Of new government buildings
And cold antiseptic smelling hospital rooms.

Dawn seems a dread,
And is best not seen, but slept through.
So what if the sun rises in glory,
All that it brings is sweat and stink,
And the aircon. in calculating rattle keeps you alive.

Your insides give up and whither,
Trying to prod it alive,
Is like stirring a stained teacup of forgotten souls-
Is there anything in there,
And do you really believe in all that, anyway?

Time is a blur,
Days move like clockwork,
And no one protests- everyone forgets
Their own cause, and would swing sides
For a glass of seasoned tangy buttermilk.

But people fight- mindlessly.
They make mistakes, and more
To cover up those, And even more
To cover it all, and blame the mosquitoes,
Power cut, and their great grand uncle
For marrying, having a child and not leaving an inheritance.

At some point, you give up-
All that is too confusing. When will the rains come?
They do-
Summer showers are a free test drive of a luxury car-
You wish, you yearn, you feel, but you just can't.

Love moves like those clouds-
And you try to clutch at the vapours
Or be enticed by false petrichor,
But what's the point of a day or two?

Summer, seemingly endless and unforgiving-
Did someone steal its chocolates in first grade
Or cheat it of an inheritance?

Nothing makes it better;
Just the distant dream of the monsoons,
Now linger.

Monday, February 23, 2015


An oblique sky, forced and contrived,
Between painted walls and a ceiling too low.

What you see is not all there is,
And the world at large, looms with gloom;
A fostered yearning for the dazzle and macabre,
The dark side, of puppets' eyes and shadows.

A blur, a despotic tableau,
Of shifting grounds and broken hills,
Of houses upon lakes, roadkill on highways,
And humans, saddled in cemented brace.

Guilt and fear hang like a noose,
Swaying and swayed by summer winds,
Waiting for the prey to step outside,
With a push to squeeze the gush out of life.

To appease,

The innate need to find a path,
That which can give and fulfill,
All that you ever craved,
That grew with you; deprived.

A strange mirage of virtues
Dangles at the places they pray,
And in sins they find a meaning,
To gift away lies and claim grace.


If you don't believe,
You may die. Else die trying.