Thursday, November 19, 2009


Here I am.
Before you.
I was lost.
Just a while ago
In reality.
I return
To absolve
Myself clean;
To this virtual space.
We often meet.
Oh! What pretense
This is?
Where a conversation
Means no contact.
There’s a connect
With a curtain
In between.
Emotions are mere
Brackets, colons
Slashes, hash
Hyphens and other
When I
Have a lot to say;
With abbreviations
And acronyms,
I say it least.
When I need to silence
I :) or ;)
Leaving your imagination
To assume anything.
Where my thumb
Plays the tongue.
And your eyes
Act as ears.
Oh! What pretense
this is?
:-) :-( :-/ :-# :-|
Hope you understand
What I mean?
If not
I’m confused.
I guess
We are
Just going in circles,
Here I am.
Before you.
I was lost.
Just a while ago
In reality.

Monday, November 09, 2009

All it takes...

From a cry to a squeal,
And some babble in the meantime;
Before you prattle with all the learnt words.
It takes a lot of practice to sound wise.

From scanty to crew cuts,
Gelled hairdos to going bald
Or turning grey when old,
It takes experience to groom your crown.

From being christened with just another name
To having it etched on a business card.
And moving onto a grave as an epitaph,
It takes a lifetime, be it a few years or decades.

From a fleeting glance to a constant gaze
And then an observant look;
Just before that hopeless fall,
It takes more than that first glimpse.

From being just another page
To turning into a phase,
And become a part of someone’s life,
All it takes is more than love.

Friday, October 30, 2009

? =

Isn’t it strange how you try to frame a story
Of things you’ve come across?
Of things lived through and gone past.
Those that you remember
When you’re all by yourself.
You borrow them from your past
And hard sell it with waivers
Luring your future to buy them again.
Fix a beginning and an end.
Make people in your life
Play characters and pivotal roles.
Of course, you’re in the lead
While the world, around you, revolves.
Replay classics in the background.
Add a twist to that tale,
And a tinge of humor or tragedy.
Or induce an anti-climax or
A happily-ever-after.
Bring worlds together,
That lay eons away.
Well, now you seem
To be well prepared;
To push the rewind button
Way before I pull down the curtains.
Could you please take a deep breath
And give me a count to ten?
Now that you’re back, simply read on…
Before you know it has begun
And long gone.
You’re a part of it
Whether you like it or don’t.
Memories make great stories.
Some, you tell to yourself
Over and over again to feel good.
And some you try never to return to.
You either pause or skip them
Press fast forward
Till you arrive at a better scene.
But this is something I have always
Pondered upon.
This is for you,
An open ended question.
Do memories contain life
Or is it the other way around?

Thursday, October 22, 2009


An old friend returned
And I burnt my lips.
After a long hiatus of fresh air
I have taken a break.
Hopefully, she is here
For a short stay.
An erstwhile companion
In my heydays.
She would reduce to ashes
Just to see me rise.
While we killed time
She played my accomplice.
Tempted me for another tryst
Whenever I would want to quit.
At every rendezvous
I would assure myself
This would be my last.
But the affair, usually, lasted
Much beyond that.
Finally, one New Year’s Eve
We decided to part.
I gave up on her
And said to myself,
This would be the last.
I guess now,
There has been a relapse.
She’s back now
To turn me into a foe.
And this time, like always,
I’m sure it would last.

Monday, October 12, 2009

To Benji Mama - A Tribute

What do I say and what do I skip?
About this mighty giant
Who was approximately five feet.
He had a distinct sense of humor
And a versatile character.
He would race against the wind
On his mean lil Vespa scooter.
He was an avid reader;
With his constant gifts
He turned me too into a booklover.
A musician and a photographer by passion,
My very first Guitar Instructor.
And one of the inspirations
For me to become a lensman.
An all-time movie buff and critic
Mostly, Biblical, historical
And then the Western, Cowboy classics;
With a flair for good music,
He introduced us to all the greatest hits.
A Gadget Guru, a Know-it-all.
Our family’s very own Santa Claus
Who traded gifts for our smiles
And not any milk and cookies.
Every December he ushered the Season’s greetings
Along with his fellow carolers and his six strings.
He also played in harmony
To those who sought the eternal sleep.
He was a warrior to his last breath.
He fought persistently without ever losing hope.
What do I say and what do I skip?
About this mighty giant
Over whose shoulders we stood
And saw the world when we were kids.

Without you, our dearest, Benji Mama;
No Christmas would ever be the same.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Lunatic Eclipse

Under the twilight, on a quest I wander.
At the shallow end, I stand,
Yet to slip and drown in deep slumber.

Lost count of sheep
And they seem to have lost their flock;
While I’m trying hard to reclaim my mislaid sleep.

In a frail attempt to leap
Across the barbed fence; Caught
In the wilderness of insomnia they bleat.

Darkness has seeded chaos,
And made every thought
Scuttle opting varied paths;

Like mortals of Babel’s tower
They scamper, unawares, they seek solace,
While a shadow follows their every step.

I pray, I fall asleep
The moment I let the lids down.
For I cannot resort to the age-old tradition, till morn.

The fiend lurks the plain tonight,
Preying upon the flock till first light.
The Wolf, a nightmare, in a sheep’s clothing.

Friday, September 18, 2009


Don’t raise a tombstone over my head;
Let there be no epitaph that bears my name.
Bid your final goodbye with three fists full of soil;
Just bury my remains in a secluded place.
Preferably, under a sprawling banyan’s shade.

Burn me till I’m grey.
Don’t confine my remains in an urn of porcelain.
Send me off into the unseen. See me off as I disappear.
Blow me away into the winds.
Let me know how it is to be a zephyr.

I don’t wish to be a resident,
Don’t you bear me in your mind;
Of a chronicle that’s neither fact nor fiction.
From wine to vinegar, try what ever you may;
Let me pass as a cataclysmic, ephemeral phase.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

a C(_)P of espresso

Hot between the lips
Bitter on the tip
Well, Espresso is nothing but
Truth brewed under pressure
That leaves behind a discrete aftertaste

Sunday, August 30, 2009


Give love, unconditionally.
Don't ever hesitate.
Not everyone dares to take this fall;
It takes courage to do this deed.
It’s your faith’s biggest leap.
For they know not
It only let’s you to rise and soar.
Be selfless, be patient;
Don’t fear to let go,
When you’re in love,
It will return if it is truly yours.
This is destiny’s biggest gamble,
A bid where He knows
What you deserve to claim.
Where you're still a winner,
Although, you've lost the game.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Speak up.
Let it slowly surface.

Don’t bottle up.
And let the thoughts serve a lifetime sentence.

Don’t resist to give in
And let this moment slip away.

Perhaps, this hour might never return,
But its regret, forever, will remain.

Be candid
Before you move on.

Try empathy.
Slip into my shoes, if you may;

You might not find the fit right,
And feel like you are out of place.

But you do know how it is to walk around
Wearing a hole in your sole.

Unleash. Let your thoughts be loud.
My soul, I want to hear you out.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


Look closely and you would see;
At times, it's not what meets the eye.
It's the meddle some hands of deceit and terror
Slipped into the pristine pair of white gloves,
One being love and the other peace.

Monday, August 17, 2009


One step closer,
Let your gaze
Rest in mine.
Take a good look.
Do you see a splinter?
A tiny speck,
A barrier, an impediment,
That’s flanked by our vision.
My sight’s quite hazy,
Clouded and grief-stricken.
Every move stings
Yet I’m trying
To see through the pain.
Correct me,
If I’m wrong.
Is that a piece of log
in your eye?

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


A heavy heart can weigh you down;
Pull you so low, you can
Take shade under a grass blade.

It’s broken, torn down,
Your credence is now just a pile of rubble.
And the bits can’t be pieced together.

Every inch you move;
Seems like a never ending mile.
Nothing interests you, not even a lungful of air.

Though it can’t add a split second to your life;
Worry becomes your new abode,
In which you seek refuge for an eon or more.

Worry no more; just say a word of prayer;
Those which are impossible by the mortals
Is possible in the hands of the Supernatural.

Monday, August 10, 2009


If seeing is believing;
I say unto thee,
Believing is seeing.
Don't look around,
For I no longer exist
In a form
Your mortal eyes may see.
Oh! Beloved of mine.
Look within,
You might just find me
Round the corner
Waiting upon you
To spot me.

Monday, August 03, 2009


She knelt on the rocky shore,
Weeping under the glowing crescent.
Amid the ceaseless waves' uproar,
She pieced the shattered jigsaw of silence.
The void seemed wider
Than that blue ocean
His last glance played and paused
In her mind, time and again.
Slowly a faint smile surfaced
On her lips as she wept.
Perhaps, she thought
"Fortunately, my eyes at least
have each other for company.
While I hum in solitude
To the tune of melancholy."

Saturday, August 01, 2009


Beams of moonlight,
Made way through the lintel;
They knocked on my eyelids
In a checkered pattern.
Tried to wake me up at an hour
Even darkness would recline.
Still hazy in slumber
I thought the moon
Made a plea to set it free
From behind bars.
Now, wide awake,
I contemplate.
Well, was it the other way round?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


Those slender lines of crimson
That glisten both in twilight and sunshine.
Between the oceanic soul and the fistful world
Lies this chalice where love brims and overflows.
Where silence dwells as a resident
And happiness is a visitor, frequent.
Where even the breeze would pause,
For eternity, if given a choice.
Don't let it arch, ever,
This Scribbler's on a quest
To find the right words
To define this divine sign.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

I Spy

How often have you gaped
Gawked, stared or gazed?
Whatever you may call that;
Well, it’s all the same.

Watched someone gently smile,
Busy in conversation with themselves,
Heaving a sigh or looking skywards.
Yawning, laughing or lost in thoughts;

Sulking, grumbling, mourning, rambling,
Weeping inwardly with lips all parched,
Contemplating, preying on their nails;
Battling odds within, wearing a trite fa├žade.

How often have you observed people
Without ever being noticed?
And while at it, have you ever thought,
You’re one of them who’s also being watched?

Monday, July 13, 2009

Puttu's Prayer

The tie hung from the bedpost with a badge pierced to its heart.
The school uniform lay buried in a place no one could find;
His pairs of white canvas and black leather shoes
Stared from the rack, with jaws dropped and soiled faces.
And the school bag sulked at a forsaken corner like some lost baggage.

To watch the orange sun peep into his window,
See dad and mom get ready to leave for work,
He would wake up real early everyday.
Seeing this Puttu’s folks would simply wonder,
Why he tried so hard to do the same during schooldays.

“Uppooo, Uppoooya” the Salt Seller would call out loud in the streets,
Pulling his two wheeled cart with a big sack of salt on it.
A sling pouch with rupee notes and paises, dangled from his shoulder.
Puttu would echo back from atop and hide behind the balcony grill.
Just to make him stop and look up with an “I-know-these-tricks” smirk.

Gradually, the street would start to hum
With veggies, fruits and flowers sellers;
And people at the ration depot with thundering kerosene cans.
Standing on a single foot he would watch them,
Drooping over the grill and hands stretched outwards.

Freda Aunty would give him company after mom left to the factory.
Serve him breakfast, from the hot case, and a glass full of Complan.
Softly narrate stories or incidents, and chuckle at jokes heartily.
Making sure Puttu had his fill and didn’t get into to any trouble
Till Ammamma would return from her age-old school.

A short nap would follow the post lunch storytelling session,
After which he would fly kites from his balcony.
Swaying left and right it would tickle the cloud’s belly,
Wiggling its lengthy, thin tail in a serpent’s fashion.
Till the summer rain would begin with tiny ice chunks.

Rushing back inside, he would return with an umbrella open.
Inverted and towards the sky he would stretch it forth
To collect the ice chunks that would disappear right then.
Some he would pop into his mouth and some into a film roll box.
But before his folks returned, into plain water, the chunks would thaw.

The fun and frolic didn't end till it turned dark,
He feared it mostly, whenever there was a power cut.
Diligently kneeling down with hands together, by his bed,
Before going to sleep, everyday he would pray and plead;
Asking God “Holidays are for us to play. Could you please say
Let there be light all through the day?”

Wednesday, July 01, 2009


Love letters and songs are too containing,
With words borrowed from what has gone before.
And I find them all too confining
When I wish to share my love.

Come a lil closer,
Lend me your ear,
Let me whisper a secret.
Without uttering a word out loud.

Feel the warmth of my breath,
Brushing your neck as I draw near.
Let me kiss your dusty skin,
And bury my face in your tranquil tress.

Let me take silence
And weave you a lullaby.
Tuck you in the snug serenity
And slide you into slumber deep.

Let me calm those raging storms
With a prayer for peace.
And wake you up in a morrow
That's just the way we once dreamed.

These mortals may believe
We unite at a surreal streak;
Fools, they know not that
We even pause time when we decide to meet.

Ironical yet true is this secret.
Today, I had to settle for a measly scribble
To usher my love to you through a zephyr,
By playing the muse of this nomadic Scribbler.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Ammu and the Land of Two Suns

Immersed in the 8 am sun,
She knelt before a futon by the window.
On a drawing book that was spread open,
She doodled on with her colorful wax crayons.

Bent over the book and biting her lower lip,
She generously splurged her imagination.
And crayoned the page from plain to vibrant
Adding strokes of yellow, red, blue and dashes of brown;

Her Dad, lolled on the couch, with the morning tabloid;
Glanced at her folding one of the sheet’s corners.
He smiled gently with a sense of pride,
As he saw his most adorable lass look really occupied.

Lifting the book above her head she walked up to Dad.
Balancing on her toes carefully, like a Ballerina,
She tried hard to look beyond the paper.
“Daddy, look what I drew” she sang to a cheerful tune.

Folding the paper aside he lifted her and put her by his side.
With tiny hands she held the big drawing book,
And placed it on her lap neatly
To show her dad what she drew.

Tanned shores with an aquamarine sea by its side.
A cerulean sky with a lustrous sun;
A few abstract images sat on either side.
And amid the calm sea lay another burning sun.

“What’s this Ammu?” asked Dad looking amused by her skill.
Ammu replied in spontaneity pointing at every object on the sheet.
“This is sun. This is sea. This is you and brother, watching lil ducks swim.
You’re sitting here like everyday, after taking a walk on the beach.”

Kissed her forehead and appreciated her with a tender hug.
He thought she had erred by drawing another sun in the sea,
“Everything is fine Ammu, but why another sun?”
Without thinking twice he asked her humorously.

“Oh! Remember the last time we went to see the sunrise? “
Saying this she pointed towards the window.
“One sun came up on the sky” now she gently swallowed
And said “and another came along, on the sea beneath.”

PS: Inspired by a true incident and doodle

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Super Tramp

By wanderlust;
I tread, I leap,
I seldom rest.
I wisp, I rush,
I never swoon.
I swirl, I swoop,
Yet I rarely fall.
I’ve made it to places,
Least known to the sun.

Roads or routes make no sense.
An alien to destinations,
I’ve followed not
A single course.
I’ve skimmed the compass
Across the wide open.
Ignored man-made maps
And kicked the milestones' rumps;
That set limits.
And defy possibilities.

A captive or a resident,
By choice,
In the human frame.
Escape is certain
But what’s left behind
Are just perishable remains.
Try, if you may
To chain this renegade.
I embrace freedom, as you exhale.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


I have this strange feeling
Like the world’s on a summersault,
Round and round like a Giant wheel
With me at the iris of the London eye.

It began when my toes followed my other heel,
Going in circles but never on a straight lane.
Every step seemed a giant leap,
With the road going wobbly, long and winding.

Mary Jane and her ecstatic cousin,
Her soporific niece with that dreamy son
Of an ancestor from the den;
Couldn’t compete with this perpetual concussion.

Perhaps, it’s much better than falling in love.
Often succumbed, only to perfect the fall.
Though it hurts, yes it does,
This pain doesn’t really last for long.

Just in case you're wondering,
What I've been rambling aloud,
I'm trippin' on my shoe lace,
Once again, here I go.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Contrary Climax

She sat straddled atop lust’s stem
Galloping on the green of yearning
With him behind her, vulnerably lain.

Gravity succumbed to reality;
Fiction seemed peculiar
To this feeling of ecstasy.

Elated she rode the jolt,
Her head stroked the clouds,
With hands raised, caressing the sky.

Their hearts thumped harder
Like the bellowing thunders
In tumultuous tandem;

In subtlety yet at light’s alacrity,
Pulses raced with the union
And it seemed to last an eon.

The zephyr from those tresses
Triggered a hurricane
Followed by a heavy downpour.

Sultry saline droplets trickled
From each body, like in off seasonal monsoon,
As the clouds clashed at the seventh heaven.

Locked in embrace, they lay;
A silver lining glistened
Over the sheath of wetness on their skin.

With smudges of crimson,
Love bites sprinkled, here and there
The pants and gasps cued their thirst for more.

On the verge to orgasm,
Stealthily she turned around,
As the phantasm of lust took her over.

A last kiss and a snap,
He was left beheaded and blinded forever in desire.
They reached climax yet they both were poles apart.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Victim Sesame

With a barrel of spices over its head,
In seclusion, it lies, away from the humankind.
None pays heed for this lonely seed,
Its wail is unheard. Or, treated
As the shepherd’s third cry for wolf.

The naked truth lies cloaked in deceit.
Justice stands blindfolded and forsaken
With eyes bleeding from within.
The demons’ haven of an ancient myth
Has truly turned beastly under a beast’s rule.

Once slaves, of an old Master,
Guests they became
And slowly turned to residents, over time.
Bonded with their kinfolk of archaic times;
And turned the desolate to be their destiny.

In times of yore, the Enlightened reigned;
Peace prevailed amongst the kith and kin.
Now the demons have returned
With an appetite for destruction
To prey upon the lone sesame.


Saturday, May 02, 2009

I met Mahatma

I met old Mahatma today,
At the turning of a narrow lane.
Opposite a small corner shop
In the middle of the road he had taken a break,
Smiling, calm and poised was his face.

He looked grubby and withdrawn,
And out of place as he was from a different age;
Where he influenced peoples' lives, revolutions, struggles,
Conspiracies, scandals, greed and events monumental;
Like no other he had played a role, in each, indelible.

Together, we walked a lil further, down sepia pathway,
Reminisced and refreshed a few things, I had once read.
After which, I left him with a leather tramp.
Cos’ being selfish with this selfless being was pointless
As he still had to travel for long.

I sent Mahatma away,
At the bend of another lane.
He never did mind in whose company he stayed
Cos’ he didn’t judge them by their colour or race;
In a tattered ten rupee note, I met this world’s Mahatma today.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Leap of Faith

Perched atop a high rise’s edge,
He looked down upon the mortals below.
Fast paced people in a slowly evolving world,
Not a glance or a smile to exchange,
They looked through each other as they rubbed shoulders.

Chiseled from a single boulder,
Imprisoned in a grotesque sculpture,
He squatted on the edge with a grimace;
Contemplating, if it was a gift or a curse
His sculptor had vested on his sturdy shoulders.

Besides, the prevailing chaotic clutter,
His eyes stole a coy glimpse at a necropolis across the street.
An immaculate being stood clenching a wreath
On a piece of evergreen land amid the dead.
With her gaze fixed skywards, it seemed as though she looked up to him.

At full-of-the-moon she’d gleam celestially,
Like a bride-to-be she would look at him
Without a single wink in expectancy.
Relentlessly she would wait
Clad in virtuous white from crest to plinth.

Putting together all his might he would try
But frozen and broken he would end up after each attempt.
Upon those turbulent nights he would wish
For those rancorous bolts to strike
And shatter his confinement to set him loose.

A night did dawn one eventful day,
The heaven descended on earth invading every inch.
Bolts of thunder reigned with lightening and downpour;
The streets were washed clean leaving none standing firm.
Universe conspired; his prayer saw the silver line.

Aimed precisely at his pedestal,
Came a piercing lance, an irreversible bolt.
Setting him free from the shackles
That detained him since he was chiseled,
Without turning around,
the Gargoyle leapt towards the marble Angel.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Solitude's Solace

It’s an encounter with tranquility,
An one-to-one with the calm;
I’m at the rendezvous of dusk and dawn,
Where the horizon is no more an imaginary line;
And being alone is merely my choice.

Solitude is painful,
But I’ve found pleasure in pain.
I try. I try really hard.
But this scribble pad

Won’t suffice if I wish to describe.

I desire to scribble,
Every single thought in my mind,
On the thin air for sometime.
If those words for ever,
Without fading, would remain.

Let me borrow those ashen clouds to scribble upon,
I’ll send ‘em afloat to your land afar.
Pray, they don’t change their course or form
Or clash against their peers, up there,
And drain away as a thunderous rain.

Allow me to scribble on those high rise walls
In the broad and vacant streets
Of your cityscapes where people seldom stroll.
Promise you’d never distemper,
For these are a few things I’d leave behind.

May I ask you to spare your heart?
I might just find enough room in there
To scribble every word I have long treasured.
For eternity, I’ll forsake solitude
And find solace in your company.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Underdog Feline

A ball of fur with two gleaming eyes;
Dark as a starless night,
Was this benign creature
A shadow in the pallid manor.
Under the bed, in the library,
Or she’d spend time,
Near the window, on a chair.
A connoisseur of tuna treats,
And an ace in hide and seek.
Coy as a touch-me-not,
A favorite among the First twins,
The center of controversy in God’s own country.
Yet, all the glam and glitz, her peers did steal.
At times, she purred and mewed,
And got petted by her master,
Whom the world referred to
As a lowly bastard.
A feline was she till the age of eighteen,
But as an underdog she spent
Her nine lives, without complaining.


Monday, March 30, 2009

Nights' Past 10

It’s past ten pm,
On a regular weekday night.
While the weary rest
And the zealous rage,
The radio croons
Amid stark silence.

A voice is heard
As the tune ends.
Of a pristine rivulet
That giggles,
All the way through,
The air waves.

A refreshing zephyr
That breeds buoyancy,
Instills hope,
And keeps one rolling
Like a snow fed,
Perennial stream.

Perhaps, every voice
Has a face.
But I would say
This one’s peerless.
Maybe, because
It also bears a smile.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


The sorrow was much bitter,
Than vinegar
mingled with gall.

The pain was a lot excruciating,
Than what she endured
During labour.

She wept incessantly,
Than any mother of this earth,
Seeing His son suffer for the world.

Perhaps, she prayed fervently
Than ever. That no mother
Should outlive to see an offspring breathe its last.

Friday, March 20, 2009


And the mirror reflected,

As she glanced.

"For once, I'd give up

On my purpose.

If you could, kindly

leave your image behind.

Now I wish to turn

Into a picture frame."

Ammamma, Puttu and the Bedroom Window

It was the weekend and the excitement had just begun.
Saturday morning breakfasts always used to be fun,
Never once did he ever miss this special occasion;

With legs folded he sat on the window ledge,
Looking out at the double road from Ammamma’s bedroom,
Holding onto the grills he peered through the fine mesh.

The world crisscrossed right before his eyes,
The two and four wheelers were his greatest entertainers.
Not many were in a hurry but a few sped in rage.

Ammamma came with a plate of scrumptious Dosas,
Cup of green chutney and a tumbler of hot coffee,
A weird combination, true, but its taste was heavenly.

Every single time a piece of Dosa took a dip into coffee,
Scooped some chutney as it swooped down,
And took off immediately to land safely into Puttu’s tiny mouth.

Munch, munch and munch, every taste bud got its share.
A sip of coffee followed to sup it all down to his lil tummy.
Wiping his mouth with a hanky, “Hmmmm!” said Puttu contently.

He questioned on and on, and she answered it all patiently.
In every moment he saw a “why?”,
And behind everything, he believed, there was a small story.

A million stories she had, from her good old childhood
To last night’s incomplete nightmare and anything he pointed at.
According to Puttu, she knew more than just about anyone in his world.

Puttu sat there on the ledge and she stood beside him,
At least, till it was noon and the road became nearly empty.
Those days, even Time stopped by to lend an ear to their stories.

Monday, March 09, 2009


A nibble of temptation,
A moment of hush, a feeling of void,
A rush of blood.

A tingle from the cranium,
Down rainbow bridge,
To the toe through the vertebrae.

Euphoria pierces deep within.
Silence shattered
Like brittle pottery;

Gravity grounded, reality imprisoned.
Senses six, levitate
Few inches off the ground.

Perception widens
Walls crumble without debris.
Inhibitions peeled, inner self revealed.

In sync with illusory symphony;
Technicolor dreams,
Collide with veracity.

Shimmers and ripples,
Turn into a visual treat.
Hallucinations triggered in near vicinity.

Glimpses from past,
Visions of future,
Flashes of insight, flights of fantasy.

Little boy and Fat man,
Have taken their toll.
Mushrooms eclipse psyche’s land.

Saturday, March 07, 2009


The window creaked open
Giving way to a forest, gray;
Luminous shone the sun
While a being sought refuge of a grey shade.

It’s either the view
from your cottage faraway.
Or what you’d find
From your abode in a high-rise.

Woodland that’s old,
Yet young at heart.
Or a concrete jungle,
That’s arid and dark.

A blissful, sun-drenched dawn
Of early summer.
Or the desolate, end of days,
Under the spell of an undying ball of fire.

A grasshopper rests, camouflaged,
Under a mushroom amidst the emerald green.
Or a lone scavenger devouring the remains
Under a frayed umbrella’s silhouette.

Your vision’s now torn between
The green and the bleak.
What you desire,
Is what, in future, you’ll see.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Blizzard of OD

Facing a storm seemed easy before.
My eyes go sore.
Now, even to a single mote.

Wearing the hood of arrogance
I used to stand tall, looking down.
With a hunchback, now I wait to bite the dust.

Balmy summer nights seem to drain me out;
And the first drizzle of rain tends to pierce me deep.
An aversion I have developed, now to all seasons four.

Taking refuge in dimly lit corridors and opium dens, I would snort;
Where the alley of shadows welcomed me with wide open arms.
Now, I can’t even count on my own shadow for shade.

At the porch of perdition the world was a good old friend,
Who smoked weed giving me company, reclining on the couch.
Now all it has in store is a sigh of relief once I’m gone.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Newborn Mother

The brightness was blinding
When she carefully opened her eyes.
She felt like a newborn
After the veil of barrenness was torn apart.

The door opened and gave way
To her bundle of joy;
Gift wrapped in celestial white
And cradled in the hands of her soul mate.

Broken down completely in excruciating pain,
Yet she sprang up like a lil dame.
Held her angel close
And kissed its forehead.

Tear drops rolled down her cheek
Like kids on a park slide.
Her pain had strayed faraway

To a land she might not return again.

What's left is a title for which,
persistently she had prayed.

It's "Mother" and that'll be her new name
Till eternity from today.

Friday, February 20, 2009


On an old, muddy, tarmac deprived highway,
Rumbling, and shuddering, a murky grey garbage truck
Made its way through a least trodden stretch.
Behind the truck, on the top,
Rested an inert creature after accomplishing its mission.

A rush of strong airstream came down, on its way.
Possessed this lifeless being,
Swept him off his feet and carried him faraway.
Like a phoenix he rose from his ashes.
He emerged like an indomitable spirit from that thrash of remains.

Higher and higher by every passing second,
He flew up, up and away, above everything.
Soared towards the skies even before
He could take a second blink.
The view from top was nothing like he had ever seen.

Different sizes and ever changing shapes;
In the company of pristine clouds he was now.
Tossing and turning like the others in the skies,
He met cumulus, stratus, nimbus and cirrus, amongst others.
He waved at them while they all drifted, without any rush.

Leaving the clouds behind
He soared even higher into the limitless sky.
At a distance he saw a lone ranger,
Hovering and looking around
On a hunt for its prey.

Before he knew he was upon the gliding eagle.
Looking down at the world beneath, over his shoulders;
He looked bemused by its vision and the focus it had for its game.
Just before he wanted to soar higher to see what else was in store.
The poltergeist airstream left him and vanished without care.

With a loss of balance and nothing else to hold on,
He perched on the eagle’s wing, unaware of the outcome.
Irritated and annoyed by the interruption.
The eagle fidgeted and took a plunge with him into the unknown.
Rocketing earthward like a meteor they both plummeted as one.

Vaulting down, the eagle frantically shook its beak.
Just when they were about to crash,
It set him free, and took off,
Resuming its flight in a jiffy, like a whiplash.
Now, the fall seemed faster, harder and easier than the rise.

Down, like a feather from a bird’s nest
He gently landed, set foot firmly, onto the ground.
Succumbed to gravity, he shrugged.
Another push from a waft of wind
He settled down cozily in a street corner.

Turning around in sloth motion he saw
Some deep marks left by the eagle’s claw.
While getting a breather another hand grabbed him up,
And tucked him into a garbage sack;
Along with other dejected polythene bags.

Atop the garbage bag, he looked up to the sky,
And thought there’s more to life than what you see everyday.
Just when he had thought everything had come to an end,
Life took a sudden turn.
And he lived a life none of his peers even dreamt.

Closing his eyes he reminisced
The amazing rollercoaster ride he had.
He opened his eyes only to discover
Another current of air sweeping him off his feet.
Much before he could even take a second blink.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Hamlet of Blind Faith

I opened up to a crestfallen land as I kipped
Alien to the green and serene
No matter how far my vision could tramp
It seemed to me a cursed, barren plane

Blind faith, like a hot sun, scorched and pierced the earth's facade
Stomping everything that lifted its head towards the blue
Everybody seemed blinded and deprived by original thoughts
A sepia tone wore Its terrain and the tenants

Hordes of idols looked down upon me from every corner
As I wandered in those boulevards
On a quest to quench my thirst I set forward
But every well overflowed with nickels and quarters

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Rise and Strike

Across the table, on a saucer
Sat the dark, spicy cinnamon flavored tea.
Hot and steaming, yet halcyon was its surface
With tiny mortal bubbles at the border and between.

The brittle, white casbah looked content
Though it was only half full.
Perhaps, it was her lips, full and crimson
That had just then sipped its fill.

Contemplate; she would
Till the cup turned shallow;
But her chalice never could,
It overran the brim with times of yore.

Oh! Let it be, my maiden.
Don’t you drown and delve so deep.
Hold on to faith, these days won’t return.
Let not hope slip through thy fist.

A brawny shoulder to lay your head,
Words of courage and persistence, I’ll lend.
Fight your battle, with grit and valor,
Wear your armor, take the sword and march ahead.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Together, always

Miles, moments and latitudes divide
And the distance between keeps us away.
Yet I feel we are somehow united by thought.

Battles, struggles, victories and defeats,
We’re bound to face everyday, are poles apart.
Yet I feel we are somehow united by hope.

Purposes, motives and destiny might differ
From each other. And we’re certainly different in flesh.
Yet I feel we are somehow united by spirit.

Friday, January 02, 2009

Martyrs of the third kind

A pale black cap, uniform and an apron she wore
With hair rolled up into a bun, and a smile adorning her face.
Wiping off the fatigue that clung onto her brows,
She moved around like a streak of lightening all over the place.

It seemed she carried the entire coffee shop
Over her petite yet responsible shoulders.
Making a wish list of people sitting around.
She made sure she personally attended every customer.

The ears of those cups had turned sore.
Time and again, listening to the same tittle-tattle.
Whereas, the spoons stirred with pride and lay over the saucer,
Watching people who were a lot shallow, rattle.

Love, hate, care, pride, modesty,
Lust, friendship, courtship, break up, contemplation,
Compromise, envy, conflict, secrets, infidelity
And much more was passed across tables over hot conversations.

She seemed like she had seen and heard it all,
Over time, there was nothing that could surprise her.
At times, with hands folded and looking blank,
She would stand calm and placid in a corner.

As still as a mannequin she would look all poised.
Only her thoughts would traipse from one wall to another,
Wandering into every nook and corner, following her eyes.
Maybe, there's a dark side to this moon, an unseen shade to this insipid character.

Would she have ever thought of making a fair trade,
Slipping into the shoes of those on the other side.
Whenever she saw someone of her age just whiling away.
Or sipping coffee without much to do but indulge in killing time.

Perhaps, it was the choice she made,
On her pursuit for happiness which she sought;
To serve a cup of cheer to those who dropped by her place.
Or was she inevitably destined to play this part?

Well, it's amazing how some souls out there,
Sacrifice so much and pay a hefty price.
Wishing that, someday, they'd reap their toil's harvest.
They take the thorns while picking roses for our ming vase.