Monday, April 13, 2015

White noise

The quietest hours are
Often most treacherous
For they don't pander to a routine
Or a purpose.
Like a silent wave, they splice your soul
And shake you out of comatose.

To the white noise of unrealised dreams.
To all the promises your failed to keep.

Its when the inkless canvas of your existence stares you in the face
What could have been, blue and black and multiple shades of red.

But what you have instead is a tale
That's far from written.
A half formed memory that seems to
have been lost in translation.
A tune, that's elegantly incoherent
A fear that's found new home in incompetence.
How long would you wait to slowly die in its clenches?

A lifetime, I hope to heavens is an inappropriate estimate. 

Thursday, November 13, 2014


I don't know you at all.
After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark
Spent and retired
In the odourless jar 
of Hope

Chasing the winds has been easier
Perhaps, because I needed it less
But unlike you, it always caressed

I don't know you at all
After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark
For a whisper that shook the universe,
Once upon a time.
But today, barely moves the sand.

Birds chirped, their babies perked
But the moon in your eye 
Was far from being lit up

I don't know you at all
After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark
Remembering the ebb and tide
Of memories
On which we sailed our boat

And made it travel far and wide
In the only direction, it knew then.

I don't know you at all
After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark
Unguarded and unsafe
In the reckless head
Of mine

Where I made a drawing of you
And placed you gleefully
Right next to the red star

I don't know you at all.
After waiting so long in the dark of the dark
And now, the hollow ghost of the wait
Haunts every part of me
Like the undeniable truth of existence itself

Begging for an answer
In lieu of my

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Fart for the day

Asking for a group selfie is akin to asking for a bar at workplace. Everybody wants it, but is wary of being judged. 

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Sunday, June 1, 2014


"Go away, I can't go on living on with you. I know, this is going to hurt a lot but there is no easy way out", she says it without a hint of reluctance or guilt in her voice.

"Look, it's not like I like you too much to put up with your insanity but I don't have a choice. Do I?"

"I don't need you".

"You do!. How many times, will we go through this huh? It always ends in the same way".

"That's the problem It always ends up in the same way". She mumbles, while lighting a Dunhill Lights.

"Hey, please don't smoke again. You're damaging yourself"

"Not any more damaging than having you around".

"Alright. I wouldn't say a word on this".

"You actually heard me this time. Wow", she replies after exhaling a long wind of smoke.

"Are you trying to be funny now?"

"I am not trying to be anything".

He whistles her favourite song. It instantly has a calming effect on her.

"I really like this song".

He continues to whistle unmindfully,

She looks into the vast expanses of her porch. Feeling weightless. As if someone just lifted an elephant off her chest so she can finally breathe. For once, not under water like a swimmer struggling for air but like an ordinary person, asserting his right to oxygen and a clear mind.

She gets up and leaves the porch with him. It always ends the same way between her and the voice in her head. He couldn't have been more true.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Monday, May 5, 2014


You know the feeling that settles on the leaves
soon after, the rain has washed it clean.
reeking of loss, that is yet to be seen.
Glazed by purple, music and mortification.

Get out,
Turn off the T.V
Listen closely

Embrace the feeling, that comes with a purpose
and sometimes with the force of calamity.
Run or surrender, run of surrender?
The mind has married a new worry.
Drown in it, swallow it. Bathe in that feeling
Like tongue soaked in a stiff gulp of sour whiskey.
Allow it the frisky ride it has been yearning for eternity
It's killing you forever to ignore the
sordidness of the daily.
That which surges like a wave- high and low.
bellowing the rocks to crush into pieces.
and the pieces into froth.

That which cries you to sleep every night
and wakes you up with a jolt,
only to welcome fecundity.

Gather yourself, the morning bells don't ring twice
for the deaf.
Look beneath the bruised-
there is only redemption to seek in acceptance
of the gone.