Tuesday, December 10, 2013


I woke up this morning
and found that love had already left my side,
the aches inside me, gently reminded
where there was once passion,
there were only wounds,
shadows of love bites,
clinging obstinately,
like the love that remains,
when the lover is dead...

Walking Into Ruins

We made a castle once, you and I,
Long ago, two children,
with sea shells and sand,
And now our sandcastles have grown cracks,
And the sunset on our faces is long gone,
On this seashore, nagging sorrows,
and obstinate memories, wring their hands,
And cut like crabs into the flesh,
Conquering empires and crowning ourselves,
We compete, surviving this thing called life,
Emperors, alone in their kingdom,
Erecting walls with silences,
And cementing boundaries with words... 


Something has walked into me, off guard,
like the rain that comes silently,
I do not know how, when or why
like a thief, something has crept inside me,
And waking up, I find myself ruffled,
not knowing what I had, I know not
which of my possessions I have lost

The self same sky has again nested
a thousand blue butterflies today,
The same wind, the same land and everything else,
yet not quite the same, for something,
that robbed me, has left its imprints on all of them,
like it has one me, something, subtle and sublime,
that dwells secretly between our silences...


Most men have eyes on their faces,
What you have
are two molten suns trapped inside the koh-i-noor…
A universe oozing stardust that
That fly out in tiny specks, silvery strands
That run from yours to mine
And I am a captured animal
Lost, and in awe of such impossible ethereal beauty

On the face of human mortality… 


Our wise ancestors
That hang from trees,
Primitive in their wisdom,
Don’t worry about the crashing rupee,
Free like the wind, all day they play,
No deadlines hanging around their neck,
They eat, they have no figure to maintain,
No ‘time’ in their world, they miss no appointment,
Nor worry about old age or death,
We the ones that carry civilization on our backs,
Hunch forward, break our necks and cover our bodies in guilt,
Supreme, We need curtains to do our daily deeds,
Yet, they don’t rape their women on the street
Not having bitten the fruit of sin,
Wise, they fornicate on the road

Without shame.

Saturday, October 5, 2013


Let me chop myself
At the altar of your love
Peel the skin,
Pull every strand of hair,
Cut off the tongue that speaks,
The hand that writes,
Crush the mind that thinks,
This heart that feels and aches…

Now I am silent,
Bereft of myself, a shadow devoid of voice
A thousand times more convenient,
A thousand times less me, like you wanted
But love me now? Will you?
Docile like the potato you love to bite…

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Writing You

 I have with me the blue ink of the oceans,
And secrets fluttering in the wind
Like careless abandoned chits of paper,
Let me write you.

I could steal the words
Waiting in the womb of time,
And adorn you, so when they are born
They are you and only you,
Let me write you

I have caught the majestic, the magnificent,
From the wonders that are only yours to be,
The cadences and the curves, the sunsets and sunrises
That are all you,
And I am writing you,

Gliding from the end of my fingers,
A curl of smoke in an endless expanse of meanings,
Sailing from word to word, letter to letter..


You are a beautiful poem of silences and sighs
And this,
A mere expanse of whiteness bereft of you…