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.


Wednesday, December 17, 2014


There is nothing to be said,
So we shall remain quiet.

The horror shall never truly sink it,
For those who know are dead. 

We helpless masochist voyeurs,
Shall forever suffer and endure,
As if this is a weighed virtue. 

If only the memory would fail,
And I wouldn't know myself.

Lies, and hope. 
What's tomorrow worth today? 

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Everything is to be forgotten

On a melancholy morrow,
It dawns upon the painted houses
And stray streets, as a weak reverie
Does on tiny mountain streams.

Words are shred, and the eyelids droop,
As the spell catches on much like a cold.
A fear slices the strained muscles to give away,
That hope of better, of the best,
As you dreamt when you were a child, no less.

And they say grow up, and you try,
But there is that you, who just won't be tied.
He seeks, he craves, lead by instincts
Much older, and warmer to the human heart,
Of spirits not bottled up or stored away
In an abandoned memory box.

There is nowhere to hide, and like
A rat you lay trapped, and the sticks prod
If you do stay in abandon- they want a race,
A race down a stickler path,
Apt-suited for those of cliches,
A trope, a tribe, tremulous snipes,
Whose currency makes home a house
Of packed cards- and all else gambled apart.

You witness, you bear,
The tides of alias faith,
And those of a kind, massacre,
Debase, while those of perseverance
Struggle against supposed fates.

But, all is of man, and he is of the worlds;
The verses is all there is as solace.
The rivers shall shred the hills,
And humanity shall prevail,
Not as the fittest or the frail,
But as fossils of its own image.

Memory is short,
While the world is infinite,
The paths transient,
And everything is to be forgotten.

The light shines the brightest

Friday, October 10, 2014

Everything will be alright

There is a certain morning when you wake up,
And everything seems to go astray.
And suddenly, you can't face the world,
You can't remain unfazed. You can't
Look yourself in the mirror,
You can't look at others in the eye,
And then the only thing that seems right,
Is to let go,

To jump,
To slash,
To burn,
To drown,
To drink,
To hang,

An enticing release, a muffled goodbye,
To the world which hurts, a world which hates.

Don't. I ask you friend, not to do that.
Not because it is easy, or that would be cowardly,
But because you are a fighter who has lived till today.
We need you to solider on, to battle another day,
For we would miss your passion and your drive,
In us we find the courage to go on, in your smile.

Don't let the world tell you what is right,
Or wrong for that matter- you have a choice,
You have a right, to live life your way.

Don't hurt yourself,  for you are better
Than that. You are a battler, you are a fighter,
But more importantly you are alive,
And life is what you choose it to be.
There is no shame, there is no wrong,
Most importantly, there is no need to belong.
Forget those words, forget the smite,
Just hold on, soon everything will be alright.      

Written for World Heath Day. See @iCALLhelpline for more on suicide prevention. 

Monday, August 18, 2014

The long road ahead

When all you have is the long road ahead,
Not too high, not too fast,
Don't stop pedaling or rush afar.

Look around to see where you have come,
This far and far away from the places,
Yonder dark with mirthless nights,
Past those shadows, affright.

The endless search, at times maleficent,
At time, as welt as borrowed clocks-
Ticking away till you know nothing more,
Till you feel nothing else,
Till the lamp is lit, to rest.

What you don't want
Is all you will ever know*,
So free yourself to set out and go,
Beyond yourself into limits unknown.

The unwritten is more and more,
Whilst the word is passed on as lore;
There is no right, nor wrong,
Just you, and the way you belong.

The light shines the brightest

*a piece of advice from @mumbaicentral which I have found very useful of late.