Saturday, February 27, 2016

A peach coloured morning

I whispered a secret into your quivering lips,
And surrendered my storms
Into your quiet sea.
I locked it with a promise, made to myself.
To never be afraid of waking up again.
You smelled of caffeine and comfort.
And I knew right then-
The mornings didn't belong to the sun anymore.
The boorish truth about mornings, although,
surfaces only in the waking hour.
Ad we see our dreams disintegrate
bit by bit into ashes.
But that day was different.
Almost peach-like I were to paint it right.
In a moment of half formed consciousness,
I suddenly learnt what mother's discipline
and the world's most efficient alarms couldn't teach.
That to wake up with eyes closed 
only helps when followed by 
your tight embrace.

Friday, January 8, 2016


Like a pretty bow on a Christmas tree
I sit on your lap.
Pouting furiously for the gawky strangers
to feel a little merry.
And for their kids to get a little dreamy.
Draped in colours that laugh at the state of my mind.
Garish pink like the prostitute’s blouse.
If only there was a shade for melancholy,
I’ll wear it upon my sleeves tonight.
It’s not for money or smiles
you say-
Egging me to find a real connection between us.
Reminding me of the nights we waltzed in each other’s arms
 After we sneaked off into the empty corridors of the mall.
Sure, you blushed a little but propered yourself,
as soon as we were done.
While the light inside my slowly faded
to a point, where I couldn’t even recognise myself.
It’s not your fault, you were only here for the thrills, I understand.
But what I fear inside are the days to come.
When you will be folded neatly into their trunks.
And I shall be whisked away by the wind,
In to the Christmas-less winter nights-

I call my life.

Friday, September 18, 2015


The stone cold darkness
Devours my soul
Devoid of hope,
And perhaps longing.

I struggle to breathe
To unleash the knots
Formed in my vessels-
the blue black colour of wrath

The sound of death 
Is louder than mourning
Said the bluebird,
Who flew away minutes before the dawn.

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