Wednesday 3 October 2007

Move, I need to put my foot down !

I’m not a regular blogger,
I do not claim to be.
I am not what you think I am
Or even what you see.

I hate many things about my life,
Ones I’m supposed to like.
I hate pink, I hate disarray;
I love black and I loves bikes.

I do not know everything,
But I know I know enough;
To take me through each day
Whether easy or tough.

I believe one can fight
And give up fighting still;
But at the end of the long, long road
Destiny triumphs over will.

With all of me I choose to love,
And in the same manner I hate.
One can hurt me all they want
I forgive, but never forget.

I’m not a regular blogger,
I do not claim to be.
Sometimes I’m not good enough,
If you read on you’ll see…

Faith forsaken

I have seen a lovely flower,
wither up and die
I have seen a little boy,
throw back his head and cry

A girl was raped and to her
justice was denied
a lonely man, whose wife felt
their divorce was justified

I have watched clouds cry,
in sheets of pelting rain
I have tried to understand,
a jilted lover’s pain

To have felt courage falter
and faith break in strife;
having witnessed negativity i
bow to the futility of life

Thursday 26 April 2007


My mind lies entrapped
within the
confines of my soul.
Ravages of spirit
conjure a mosaic of images.
Emotions have
dethroned rational powers
and in the face of
broken silence,
the mirror screams tonight.
The cobwebs have been
distorted in their shape
and the symmetry
has been replaced
by my
It’s a new moon
night, no moon
Howls die down….

Wednesday 25 April 2007

Echoes of Eternity

The dirndl whipped about in the storm
as she ran across the beach
away from the lighthouse.
Lightning ripped apart the sky
annihilation of the night.
They twinkled, the stars,
On her skirt.
Slipping, falling, stumbling
bleeding she made her way
to the waiting solace.
Endless, bottomless wait as
echoes of eternity haunt
her ringing ears
as the blood on her
wrists run in a deluge
to the depths of the
being of her existence.
Dithyramb songs float
in tarnished space.
The yellow-orange flames
of dusk have come down
in a cascade of efforts
to escape the dungeons.
Dying, praying, screaming
as the voices of the night
drown out her soulbeats.
In the infidelity of life,
the scars have opened up again.
But there, it waits
for the Morse code flashes
on the raging sea.
Froth is the heaven, the echo
she hears everyday
running through the bubbling
foam and farther
farther still, till at last
she was swallowed by the
embrace of the night.
The dirndl whipped about in the storm
as she ran across the beach
away from the lighthouse.


The light turned green.
I crossed the road amidst
The echoes of eternity.

Sunday 15 April 2007

Late last evening....

Stupid net connections…. This was written last night itself. Couldn’t put it up till now…

Sometimes one wakes up in the morning and doesn’t give the day a second thought. Its just that it seems like another day, the usual routine of classes, the daily dose of frustration, the constant endeavour to do something useful but ending up spending hours at beloved frustu sipping iced tea and talking…. Talking…. Today, or rather yesterday(since I see its past twelve) was one of those days which showed no inclination to be different from the rest.
But sometimes stuff just happens. We decided to go down to kaup…. The five of us- Swapnil, Neelav, Anamol, Fernon and i. it just popped out of the blue and we decided that the first Saturday afternoon after the sessionals was the best day to put our plan to good action…. So down we went. Till now nothing really seems extraordinary. We flit about in the water, dodging the waves and splashing each other. It was high tide and the waves were pretty forceful. We were having a wonderful time.
Then it started getting dark. It went on that way until we realized that we were in a secluded part of the beach and the reason why there wasn’t any light was because there apparently was a power failure. We were out of the water by then, each one convincing another of the demerits of reaching the hostel late( these dratted perm restrictions!!).
It hasn’t rained out here in a very long time, just once since the beginning of this sem and that too not like tonight. The white sands, the wind howling in my ears, the feel of clothes soaking on my back, lighting in the horizon, the beacon of the lighthouse and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. I didn’t feel, hear or think of anyone or anything else.
The sights and sounds of the moment were engulfing me in their magnanimity. A feeling of strange emptiness washes over me when I realize that I am powerless… in the face of everything that was here tonight. It doesn’t stop there. My heart spews out questions that my mind refuses to answer. It just wishes to remain numb, like the soul of the sea. Even though the sea roars and grumbles with all its might, the bottom line is that its just a defence mechanism. Inside , its just as scared, as confused, as unsure as I am. Or maybe I am just rambling on…..
I’ve always heard that kaup is beautiful, that it is an amazing place to be. But when I was actually there tonight, the rain pelting down on my back, my hair whipping about in the wind….. that’s when the beauty hit me square, full and large. This is one of those few occasions when I feel that words are inadequate to convey what I was feeling. That no matter what I write here tonight, one has to be there on an evening like this to realize what it feels like.
So we run on the sands in pitch darkness all the way back to the road only to find that there are no auto-rickshaws around. So we do what strikes us best. We walk. In the flashlights of a couple of 1100 phones(I always bless them at such times) we make our way back…. Fortunately we get ricks after a ten minute trek. The rest can again be termed as the dregs of an ordinary day. There are few things in life which have made me stop dead in my tracks…. These images that run through my head are a few of those…

High tide
Spray on waves
Salty breeze
Wind howling
Frozen fingers
Being cold

There are days which just seem ordinary… they aren’t.

Friday 13 April 2007

a few minutes to go before friday the thirteenth leaves us.... funny. its supposed to be ominous, but half of the people do not even remember its this date today. if you remind them, they'd probably be scared of something going wrong...its all in the mind. well, so long as my day was lik any other, i'm indifferent to it.or i could say, saturday the fourteenth is unlucky for me....

You, Amigo

dedicated to a friend, a part of my being...

I was lost when
you found me
Winning the wrong battle
When you defeated me…
Searching for water in the desert,
And you became my oasis.
You’ll always be.
Reasons that I didn’t question
When you taught me that
Answers weren’t everything,
And I learnt,
You were…
I found me when I met you.
You showed me the fifth dimension,
In which I twirl now.
Existence was a myth,
I fight it now.
I don’t know why we met
Or did we ever do?
All I know is ,
If I look up,
I see you…..

Of glass bangles

{thoughts at an Afghan weekly market}

composed in BET class... here goes'

Allah! Shall he exist?
Shall the questions cease?
The paths differ?
One has walked past
Dusty bazaar roads.
Hearing glass bangles
Clink against one another.
Mother of three malnourished
Bright eyed angels…
From behind her veil she
Stares into the distance.
America has sold their lives
To the lord.
And they sell their waking
Moments to dust.
Promises of a better tomorrow,
That’ll never come.
For the roads merge into
The horizon.
The suns sets into an
Orange dusk and
The screams to sell wares
Have died into hoarse
Whispers. Sales are less today.
Bombs have wrecked
Homes and raw emotions
Have driven people away
From the streets.
Tarpaulins are removed.
It hasn’t rained in three months.
The earth is as parched
As souls….
Distant voices of grenades
That yell open warfare
Have taken over peace.
Sandstorms have blurred
The power of vision and
Now promises of a new world
Remain carefully ignored.
Nights settle down
And skies remain ablaze
With hues of blasts.
Day begins…..

Monday 12 March 2007


this was written over three years ago...long time i know. sifting through diary pages brought me to it....

I've been screaming all night,
the sounds that they don't get.
Not their fault,they're far,far away,
they've walked into the blazing sunset.

I tried to tell them my fears,
my face tainted with tears.
All that I ever held dear,
is no more near.

I've been talking to the shadows,
the moonbeams caressing the bed,
of the carved etched rock,
a halo around my head.

Its morning already,
I've been awake all night.
This lost
hollow deserted...right.

Look here he comes now
to me, oh at last.
He put the lilies beside my head,
don't leave,not so fast.

The scent of white lilies
rhythmic mourning...
They still cant hear me scream
and silent while I yell.
I talk and listen
in my grave...
the carved etched rock
around my head...
the ground
now my tomb.....
now my bed.

Wednesday 7 March 2007


falling through space,
edges turned
beauty spurned.

Falling again,
flashes of red
pure blissful dread.

rolling into a whirling mass
of red.
almost dry,
the petals of a rose flower

A red rose flower
that in their struggle
for survival were


Somebeing ,
has siphoned out
a soul,my soul.
Leaving me
numb, vacuumed .

has wrenched out
a tear.
And painted
a lonely scar.


Friday 23 February 2007


If I was trippy you’d kno
‘cause then for a change
I wouldn’t act drunk….
The dimensionless horizon has
Turned us into strangers
You and i.
And as the sand clock turns,
The storm whips past
I have tucked in the strands
Of my hair, they are the
Only things I control now.
Spring has found us again,
But we lost us somewhere
In the dry oases,
Where you seemed a mirage.
Yes, we are strangers now,
If I was trippy,
Would you still know???

Monday 19 February 2007


I walk down roads of infinite density
of nights in candy pink
hues of mauve and scarlet
in hest I blink.

Of life and times bathed in
the white of winning moments
and....shrivelled silence.
and regeneration of space.....laughter

.I soak in love, in white,
in black and red passion
truthful falsity in kisses
and torment.
Ravages of spirit have conjured
a tempestuous rage.
Monstrous agony in
disappearance and smile,
mirth, pleasure....silence.....
I rejoice over my ruins...

Saturday 17 February 2007


Finally, I’m here. In the world of 18 year olds….. it always felt like a milestone. But now that I’m actually here, it doesn’t seem all that great anymore. It feels like autumn today, as if the winter I was waiting for is not so different after all. Its just an extension of the times of fallen leaves and hues of yellow. The days are blending into each other and even as I stand on the threshold of adulthood, I feel I’ve seen all this before…. This wintry sunshine, the lost foliage, the heather that still awaits its time to peep out of its slumber….
I suddenly realize that spring is yet to arrive , that try as I might, being 18 will never be spring, the warmth of the embrace of life will take its time to come. it wont be hurried by a moment of transition from 17 to 18. I wait, with bated breath, because I’d like to believe that one day, the blend shall happen again, that the white of winter will give way to the magenta of spring……
Its reassuring to have something to look forward to. Maybe that’s why they finally admitted, I sound 18…… I’ve been here before, they just wouldn’t admit it…..

Frozen (thoughts as I turn 18)

Gathered moments have turned into seconds,
Into minutes and hours.
Those in their turn have shaped
Nights, weeks, months
Which have moulded into years gone by,
My easel is washed dry.

The paint brushes are lost
White is night and hope is right
The eternal mindblind poem
Haunts the smiling tear.
18-a new year.
No change, life in candy pink,
Midnight blue
Shocking, choking hue.
Talking to the mirror
Another year, another shiver.

Memories rolled into a rubber ball
Of love, trust and faith
Wounds, hate.
People going and coming, living and
Dying, laughing, crying
Grieving, mourning, flying
Lying, trying
I watch, fathom
The relentless sunshine.