Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Beneath The Amaranth

Beneath the amaranth
I have buried my guilt,
roots running deep into flesh,
entangled, she blooms on my blood.

She is there,
Spreading her tendrils of lies,
waiting for a hold,watching my steps
She grows on my sins

And the darkness churns in me,
sweet melodies of the fallen one,
she has the face of fear,
Her roots knows no end

Crimson stories told in silence,
is now etched on her petals
She drinks the gall of my life
And she sways in intoxication

I rot in her sensuous shadows,
and my sins are purged in her lust,
her roots running deep into flesh,
entangled, she blooms on my blood...

Saturday, September 10, 2011


This number does not exist.

perhaps it did. may be it used to. but not anymore.

this is the final act. the act that you have been waiting for. the act no one wants to miss. this is where the story ends. this is the climax. after this, you can get up and leave the show. and watch another. perhaps, a better one.

the illusion of togetherness has always fooled man and always will. from the beginning and till the end of time. what was before time and what comes after it is the real truth. the truth that sinisterly resembles nothingness, void. the truth of all truths. the truth that life is a prisonhouse. and that one is getting punished for some celestial sin that one did beyond the realms of memory. to lead the life of a puppet in the hands of an unknown puppeteer is ever so miserable.

to think that one's life is not one's own. "It's my life" is the biggest lie one can tell oneself. cos life just doesn't belong to one. can anyone ever tell what's gonna happen in the very next moment of one's existence? Life is a blind walk through ways already drawn out for one. like cattle walking in the dark. a stinking dark. and you are just another cattle. walking slowly and steadily to the slaughterhouse. slowly and steadily and all by yourself.

they trod, they run,
they sing, they smile,
they rush, they ease,
and find themselves
in death's arms..

Life and its mad rush. Life and its pointlessness. The meaninglessness that resides in the core of superficial meaning. How long do one survive deceiving oneself?

Perhaps it's time for the curtains to fall. For life to fail. perhaps this is when you get your ticket out of the prison. When time ends, and you begin.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Death of a dear death

Death died a gruesome death, following the funeral of fear.

Funeral of fear, funeral of fear.

Death died slowly, worms kissed him and his body stank

His body stank, his body stank

Death died, in shame in torture he was raped

he was raped, he was raped

Death died the death of a fat whore

a fat whore , a fat whore

Death died all by himself, no one cried

no one cried, no none cried

Death died a dead death I was at his funeral

at his funeral, at his funeral

Death died, and lay shriveled in his coffin

in his coffin, in his coffin

Death died, I was there, only me

only me, only me

Death died, I miss him, I cry

I cry, I cry

Death died, death died, my beloved death, he died.

And I am alone, am alone, alone...

Existential Dilemma. Or Something Like That.

Should I be the pickle in the plate of one who is having a seven course dinner ?
Should I be the pickle in the plate of one having a meager meal of plain rice ?

I don't like pickles anyway.

May be it's time to be the meal itself. Or an ice cream perhaps. Or best yet, I will be the one who eats

Monday, September 5, 2011


"Hush", he said.

She was merely noticing his shivering shadows underneath the street light. And how it circled him with each step he took.

You know, Orion had eyes of green gold. An Orionless sky was so unthinkable to her. Why would there be a sky without the fleeing hunter? Hunter with the heart of a lover. Hunter in the sky.

"It's getting colder"

She knew he wanted to get a room. Female intuition you see. Or was it just plain old commonsense carefully discarded by the road side. She tripped on it and fell. On the sense, I mean. Or the lack of it.

Wayside inns don't come in so cheap anymore. And dewy grass, a night under a starry sky, such stuff dont sell. Not even on Disney channel. So you'd better have money with you, I say.

"Do you have a rubber?"

Why would she? What are you in, kindergarten?

Men, she thought.Ever and always the same. And then her thoughts drifted. To the one who had disappeared from the skies. Orion, the most beautiful man ever to have lived. The mighty hunter, the untiring dancer, the lover of gods...

" Stop thinking, will you?" he hissed.

She knew he would not understand. When had he understood anyway? But she didnt want to chain her thoughts. Or abort them in the womb of her consciousness.

"Orion died in the skies", she whispered. He was killed by what was born of his dreams

"See if you find any medical store near by"

She knew what you wanted.

But skies dont have medical stores. And her eyes were still there.




For a man with the heart of a woman.

* * * * * *

Now, that can never be you. Cant it, Mister?

Wednesday, August 31, 2011


She taunts me from the
Shadows of your love,
Behind your black iris,
A twinkling light,
The little diamond of your skies,
The mistress of your melodies,
She intrudes my dreams,
And yours,
I find her at the end of your songs
Songs I thought were mine,
Songs that never were
Wide eyed, tear stained,
I am lost,
She laughs,
And I am a broken word
of this tuneless song
A lunatic.
And she, the tune of
your mirthless reed,
a deathless river
between me
and all that never again will be.

Saturday, July 23, 2011


I walk into a book store. The book you always talked about is right there on the shelf. The book you always wanted me to read. And the book I never read...

Now it’s in my bag. I kiss the pages. Remembering the lips I never had the courage to kiss.

Friday, June 3, 2011


Note : This article was written over a year back on a particularly hot friday afternoon. It was written after a class on Western Philosophy when I was feeling damn annoyed with Aristotle and his irritating views on women. Please take it with a pinch of salt :)


What all have you got to tell me about Aristotle? That he was a Greek philosopher, that he did great works in the field of biology, that he was an empiricist, that he worked on ethics? Well, I have got to tell you something as well. Something not so common. Something that may sound weird to you. But I have my own reasons for believing this notion.

Ok. I think that's enough of preface. Let me come straight to the point. Aristotle wasn't all that straight. Oh yes, what you thought right now is exactly what I am saying. Aristotle's orientation ( now don't ask me what orientation) was slightly different from normal.

Ah ! before you crease your brows let me substantiate my point. Let us look at some history first. I am cutting all that crap about where he was born and blah blah blah. I mean this is not his biography or anything. If that's the sort of information you want you can wiki it up. So coming straight to the point. Aristotle, while he was exploring Asia and parts of Europe is believed to have tavelled with Theophrastus to the famous island of Lesbos ( ring, ring, ring a bell ) so as to extend his research on zoology and botany. Lesbos is a Greek island located in the Aegean sea. The word 'lesbian' has its roots here. It is said to have been derived because of the poems of a poetess called Sappho, who was born there. The poems expressed powerful emotional and physical love towards the members of the same sex. She was before Aristotle's time. One can definitely believe that during his time at Lesbos, Aristotle would definitely have come across her poetry and may have been serious influenced by her then rebellious thoughts.

However he got married to Pythias who was Hermia's adoptive daughter and had a girl child in her. This merely points to the fact that he was not impotent. We cant conclude his real orientation from the fact that he got married. Gay men marry for social reasons even to this day.

Now, my argument is not based on just this. I have stronger and more psychological reasons for having such a doubt. So let's psychoanalyze Mr. Aristotle.

What were his views on women?

Aristotle the great, held that "women are defective by nature". He went to the exent of calling them "infertile men". Why so? For the simple reason that women cant produce the seed of life or semen ( he feels that the egg is not a good enough reason for women to be equal to men as it merely receives the seed of life). Now commonsense dictates that this "seed of life" isnt much of use without the "not so good egg" that Mr. Aristotle conveniently marks as second rate. If you ask me, I say that Aristo was just jealous he didnt have an egg of his own that he so desperately wanted. He classified women as second grade citizens who should be kept at home and who should not be involved in political or societal activities ( less competition for him!). He suggested that husbands should rule their wives and brought in the analogy of tame animals to describe the same. Women should be ruled just like one may rule his tame animals. Lets say a dog, or a cat. Or may be a cow or a donkey. Neverrtheless he tried to butter it off by saying that this rule must be political in the sense that they should be ruled like equals. If he truly believed so why would he bring in a comparison with tame animals? How can one equate the value of the life of half the population to that of animals!! And you say men arent jealous! what is this but jealously! jealousy for all that is feminine and beautiful. Jealously for the womb that brings forth life. Jealousy for the charm and grace that draw men. To put it bluntly, Aristotle couldnt tolerate women because he felt threatened by them.

However he did give equal importance to male and female happiness. He claimed that no state could be considered happy if women arent happy. Here I feel, that it is his guilt that is talking. This definitely is not a sincere conviction. How can you at the same time seal off all opportunities for women, chain them to their homes, compare them to tame animals, give someone the right to dominate them and then expect them to be happy!

The great philosopher and logician that he was, Aristotle was merely manupulating the situation to suit his whims, fancies and secret longings. No 'normal' man who has a mother of his own could come up with more twisted ideas about womanhood unless he had some serious issues with it. I dont know if Aristotle was a happy person, but he sure as hell was gay!! ;)

Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Perhaps there is no
love in your eyes,
Perhaps the misted
sigh of passion is
yet another mirage,
Perhaps you are a liar,
And me, your lie,
Perhaps these evening shadows
may transcend the seas,
Or perhaps they may drown,
Choke in the throat
And clot in a bloody heart,
I am the murderer of a thousand words,
A coward, draped in myriad veils,
And you, a feather,
A flake of snow from an exotic land,
Floating beyond my reach...

Friday, March 18, 2011


You spoke of inflation in Greece
And quoted Nietzsche
You rambled on and on about
False consciousness and failing morality,
About the existential dilemma, the panic stricken world,
The excruciating futility of human life
And its uncertainty,
Half the things you said,
Flew over my head,
You stubbed out your cigarette, you sighed,
And when we were alone,
like all men, you begged for my flesh,
Outside our cold bedroom,
your imported pet from Europe
howled in the Indian heat,
And all I could think was,
How a dog with a fancy name, was still a dog