And so we watch our lives go by, waiting at the bus stop, getting into every bus and
getting out at the next stop. We choose them as they come and leave halfway during the
journey. And in the end we wonder if this is how it is meant to be, where we wait day after
day, in the prickly heat or in the rains, protecting ourselves from the weather, yet
completely open to the world in front of us. We let ourselves go and hope that someday
things might turn out for the good. Would I choose a route that I have been told to take or
would I close my eyes and pick a number, a path, a choice, a way of life. And for all that
these numbers may represent, there can never be an assurance of how life will turn out to be
and whose number would match yours. And so we ask ourselves, would we ever choose our paths
for us to claim it as our lives, or would we let others stake their claim of it? For all we
know, we can never truly guess which road to take and which ones to leave out, with or
without any compromises being made. Yet we trudge on, knowing that hurt and pain and misery
lasts for just as long as we wish it to last, and that being as we are humans, we still
retain our ability to move on and over things, yet however, it still depends on whether it
makes sense to hold onto emotions or not. And that could so much as decide the course one's
life could take, he/she should only give oneself that much thought to know what to keep and
what to throw away. For as they say, at the end of the day, isn't life all about reminiscing
memories of a past life? Then why waste it on misery, and pain when it could be avoided by
just believing in what you see and what makes one happy. Because if living cannot make you
happy why live it; and if not for yourself who are you living it for?

Baby, we laughed all day,
I closed my head around that penny of happiness.
Returned home and dropped it into my empty box.
Collecting pennies as I go,
Minding my own business,
It’s all there is left to do.

The screeching talk numbs my ears,
Her tears fall and I watch unperturbed.
Am I a sinner?
Of what sin do I accuse myself?
I only look down and patiently wait for her to leave,
Mumbling to herself that we will never change.

And so my day begins,
In want of an intoxicant,
To wash away the night’s fear.
And so I search,
Sorting out people one by one,
Hoping to collect more than pennies,
Probably make some money out of it,
Afterall isn’t money all about happiness?

A book for everyday
to drive away those pangs of sadness
that creeps up on a low dull Tuesday afternoon.

Warm memories
glowing like the sun
to fill in those lonely sundays
while drinking your hot cup of steaming tea.

Roads strewn with autumn leaves in sepia
Reebok shoes lightly stepping on the pavement
as he walks away.

Wilderness in the middle of the city
lost with trees all around
as your mind picks its fancy.

Watch as your hair flies in the wind
jauntily twisting in and out of his reach
chuckling to yourself
suddenly proud of your unruly tresses.

Rain
on a warm bright Sunday
Nature has its own crazy games.
The sun streaks in and around clouds
keeping to its majestic posture
unsettled my impish clouds
that grin in a delightful chorus.

And all of a sudden
a metaphorical object
seems lame,
truer to its original state
And we just laugh at how selfish we are,
to make something mean more than it ever could.

Happiness can be anything,
watching dead leaves flicker in stagnant water,
street dogs chase each other in the sunlight,
fill your thoughts with images you saw from a movie when you were 5
watch your huge coffee as the sugar slowly sinks in through the froth
walk along cobbled streets,
grinning at the anonymity of the place.

Why do my eyes feel like I've just cried,
Why am I so tired,
Why do I value my sleep so much,
Why do I wait for that phone call?

I don't mull like I used to.
Trapping myself,
and bundling until i trip and stumble over the boxes.
No.

It's
a grotesque happiness.
Beautifully distorted,
Set as images,
that you can click from your desktop.

Yet,
on the sullen side,
there's a normal craving
to receive what I expect.
But it doesn't numb me anymore,
not anymore.

I can’t cross shores.
My system deflates,
At every disappointment.

Selfish crab.
Snapping away at everything around you,
Clawing your way into people’s lives.
When you catch something,
You hold on and can never let go.
Your shape,
Grotesque as your thoughts.

Soft muzzle,
Too soft, too fragile, too sincere,
Contrasts your fake exterior.

This I am to everyone.
I drive you away,
With my touch, a pinch.
I drive you,
My shell is not what I want to be.

I live without pretension now,
Yet afraid my every step will hurt.
But the tide is too strong,
I can’t help being muddled up,
Forgive my sins, unintentional.

I can’t help but survive,
Searching ashore for my kind,
They surface once in a while,
Yet get washed away.

The breeze against my face,
I watch this struggling crab,
If only it had a voice.

There she lies,
The shroud changes colour.
My eyes upon her
I can see no longer.
Blurred,
Demurred,
I try to blend in,
But alas, not without her.

Growing cold,
It isn’t so hard to stay away
In a crowd.
Lights ablaze,
A documentary of happiness.
And all I can see
Are your colours.
Black and white,
Pebbles, grass, primitive skies, candy.

My hooded trust,
Will never return.
Bodies crawl,
Screeching fingernails,
Clicking tongues,
Gaudy laughter.
Lust for impregnation,
Craving, craving,
Slash my canvas.

Aida,
Saved from being bought,
You lie there,
Peaceful and serene,
Brows relaxed,
Austere, Unknown.
Drained cistern,
Wand of change,
Fused colours,
Wavering constancy,
Black.

Hope leaves hope,
Rising to occasions,
My perfect me.

Crimson

Weakness,
joyful intolerance.
Ambiguity,
nonsensical laughter.
Varnish,
blind spot.
Redemption,
an escapist.
Revival,
cosmic galaxies.
Rebirth,
Karma.
Carnations,
crimson rivers.

We small people,
you and I,
swimming in each other's conscience,
happy yet contained,
innocent yet alert,
lost yet found.

Neither do I have,
neither do you possess,
we still walk together,
unaware of the "bigger" people's judgement.

A craning logic,
a didactic contradiction,
waiting for appraisal,
throwing scorn upon us,
never crossing your path.

Sometimes I cry,
ask why us?
But you say no,
possessing more,
they are the ones who should shed a tear.

We small people,
live within ourselves,
ask for nothing,
only take from each other.
But still,
why do the bigger ones pry?

Falling leaves

A crisp thought.
How does it feel?
Close your eyes and you could go anywhere.
In touch with the present and knowledge.

Waiting in the lobby,
Tensed fingers,
Curled up like knotted weeds,
Shallow and fast breaths.

Present and future,
A dream for its sake,
The cool breeze flowing through your fingers,
Destination or an encounter?

Drive me away, far away,
Where nature isn’t just a word.
Where beauty co-exists with man,
And not physically.

Wouldn’t you cross over, my dear?
A deserved choice,
A deserved chance,
This present can be anything.

Go back
recast yourself
don't return
until you're done...

If this is all you can offer
re-varnish yourself
from the bottom
upto the top
scrub scrub.
Scoop out the indifference,
drain out the silence,
unsculpt what moulds your body,
reload and reframe.

Take in the sarcasm,
take out the pain.
Blend into harmony,
view life though unstained glass.
Untangle those webs,
dream of an eternity.
Drive into a luxurious calmness,
drink up the elixir of beauty.
Visit those sanctuaries of art,
walk alone.

Recast, remould,
imagine, experience,
drown, fathom,
condescend, contact.

The immensity of the realisation,
Makes you bow down.
Clap for yourself,
This is no ordinary task.
Gulp it down with your age.
Years of “suffering” have prepared you,
For what is yet to come.
But if this is your metamorphosis,
You roam around naked.

If the sun should drown you with its rays,
The sea, choke you with its freshness,
The sands of time, evolve your thoughts,
And Nature, encircle you with her passion for life,
Would you be prepared to embrace it all when the time comes?
This sadness, this sadness, this sadness,
What is it?
What is it,
If you do not SEE all that belongs to you.

My sweet drinker,
Do not turn back.
Those fears have long perished,
Perished like the ashes of your fore-fathers.
Reminders don’t make one strong,
Only extend the battle’s perpetual night.
This crown of self-denial,
Takes a grotesque shape with every acceptance.
The glory of your position,
Intoxicates you.

A life, this life, your life,
Is all that is yours.
Pushing it away,
Only doubles its importance.
Dream of that paradise,
Drown yourself into your passion,
Dust away that past.
This river of life turned sweet,
On your acknowledging its existence.

You arrive each time
to empty your head
from the three-month drive.
A white blankness confronts us
and we see only silhouettes.
We could never really know,
what you do.
And our queries are answered,
only through your physical emotions.

Your arrival each time,
enters my dark box with colours.
And suddenly I become like i once was,
a playful child following your every footstep.
I still do, if not literally.
The stopper is unplugged,
everytime you smile.
A whole new world opens up to me,
everytime you speak.
But then again,
its time to leave.

Your departure each time,
leaves behind a trace.
These traces I cling to,
and it changes my world.
And though you're gone and I know you'll come back,
I still think of you every day.
Because I know those traces are black spots
on the white blankness.

For one minute it was there,
the next, it was gone.

For one minute he existed in my head,
the next, disappeared like the flash of a phoenix.
For one minute I lay among the waves,
the next, on the weather-beaten rocks.
For one minute I ran into the room,
the next, thrown against the wall.
For one minute I was bleeding from inside,
the next, my wrist was slit.
For one minute I was drinking the elixir,
the next, falling through eternity.
For one minute I saw a tear on your eyelash,
the next, I laughed aloud in my corner.
For one minute the flowers fell to the ground,
the next, I walked through crispy autumn leaves.
For one minute you left me bereft of all emotions,
the next, I looked into the pool of my heart.
For one minute I lodged myself off the rocket of your mind,
the next, I flew to the stars.

For one minute it was there,
the next, it was gone.

Tears all dried up,
long gone,
wasted in the moonlight,
which draws the light that remains within u,
the only little thats left.

Grow onto to me,
i'l carry u on my back,
when u let go,
don't forget to turn back....


i might still be waiting,
for my turn.

It wounds me to come to terms,
whether I trust them against myself.

Them, who seem to have all,
love, friendship, game, happiness.
I, lack all,
love, friendship, game, happiness.

Drive me against the wall,
bend my arms and tie them,
if not THEM, you exist,
to hate me for my existence.

If you cross me on your way,
perhaps you might wonder what this
box contains.

If you unravel me,
perhaps you would find innumerable chains.

If you unlock me,
perhaps you would miss that mist of air that would hit you,
to find the box empty.

If you walk away,
perhaps bewildered by the facade,
you would never know I lost my last hope.

If you cross me on your way.

I feel bare,
Nothing touches me.
My feet slip,
Where did these stairs come from?
I tumble and fall,
Catch me if you can.

Down, down, down,
Down, down, down.

Eternity.

My mind refuses contact,
Afraid it would go bad.
I wander around feeling empty,
This ship is sinking.
What do I want from life?
A reason to live?

The nakedness of this state bends me,
To remain clueless.
A new reason to feel empty,
A laugh from the corner.
What is inside of me?
I see no potential, no life, only barren ground.
My tears dry up even before they start to fall.
Who am I searching for?
No…. not love, but understanding.
Something no one has given me till now.
I search in vain, she says.
But how long do I wait?
Dragging my bent frame around,
This ship is half-sinking.

The Oak Tree

A glorious morning it was that day,
Filled with the smell of jasmine flowers
Emanating from that sordid room.
Sordid indeed it was, my room,
The closet from whence it came.
The smell traced a path across the garden
To a whole new world,
On the other side.

A world of fantasy,
A world contrasted to mine,
Where birds sang chirpily,
Flying in some delight upon finding game.
But for all it was,
The fantasy bore a single tree.
A huge oak right in the middle of my flower-sheltered field.
It was but huge,
Almost grazing the ceiling of the sky.
But what it was I loved the most was the world it carried inside .

A long lost closet I left behind,
Followed the path of my nose,
Leading the way to my new world,
For me to cherish and grow sublimed into.
To engross myself in its never-ending arms,
Away from all the rottened webs,
Away from all the turmoil that reddened my bleeding heart,
To embrace me into its firm arms.

I climbed and climbed trying to reach the top,
Bounded my slow lightening heart.
Its burdened state was pulling me down to the bottom,
But not too late to sail aloft.
The tree never seemed to end,
The day carried on till night came,
But I could not retire,
Till all the agony left my mind.

I tripped and caught on to one of your arms,
But lifted myself with no help.
You stand there tall, with might and pride,
But of no avail from your hollow inside.
Must I climb this trenched path,
Though arms are strong, they twist in vain.

Will I remember the days of clear conscience,
Even in a dark closet,
If I live in this confused clarity?

No matter the indulgence I have in you,
My tree, you cannot save me.
You cannot save me from all the rottened webs still hanging loose,
Targeted by strong winds of repurcussioning ponders.

Oh conscience!
My fight is but alone,
For even through despair and heart-break,
My salvation is through the other end of my closet,
The end that leads one to reality.

Apocalypse

Decayed discontent,
Perpetual endings,
A life of solitude,
Persisting monotony,
Trenches of disregard.

Lies, lies, lies,
When truth leads to destruction,
Superficial freedom,
Physical, but not of the mind.

Hounded by rules unfollowed,
Bounded by trust unfulfilled,
Vertigo in my dream,
Sanity unchallenged.

Hear my prayer,
Release my bounded thirst for strategy,
My solitude,
My indifference to self-interest.

Offer service to myself,
Dream of being complete,
Triumph at every thought,
Offer service.

A happy soul strives for its release,
A thought strives for its deliverance,
A mind strives for its use,
A person strives for his fulfillment.