Sunday, December 18, 2011

The abode of peace

The roads were dusty,
The wind was cold,
The evenings were romantic,
In the abode of peace.

People thronged the streets,
In those wintery evenings,
I smelled life somewhere,
Life had not yet taken heed of me.

Trees covered the sky,
The chill in the air,
Freedom created a thrill,
I had my eyes on the distant hill.

So much I had heard,
So little I had seen,
The abode of peace,
I hardly knew the unforeseen.

Strange eyes met,
Only to reinforce the continuum,
Strange people flocked,
Only to reiterate the absolute.

I was a kid back then,
Not a cynic still,
So little I had seen,
So many things were to be done.

I sat and wondered,
What life is.
I sit and still ponder,
What life is!

Saturday, December 17, 2011

If it were to me

If I sleep tonight,
Will you wake me up tomorrow?
If I don't say anything again,
Will you remember me?

If I don't come over,
Will you still go on?

I am not the sort of person who asks questions.
I am not the person who needs answers.

Friday, December 16, 2011


That when I see more today,
I seem to get the connect,
I realize, everything that has a beginning has an end.

Such a relief, such a balance,
To be aware of the transience.
I realize, to not ask for more.

Youth sure is a crazy time.
When more is not enough,
When less has no meaning.

I finally seem to find peace,
And not strive to be what I am not.
I sense a strange content,
I make peace with my contempt.

It is in understanding,
It is in belief,
It is in temperance,
It is inside.
May be, it is for me,
But you also know,

what I am talking about.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Evenings in a small town

The evening set in,
The town was lit,
The air was fragrant,
The hearts were lighted with desire.

If I say, I never loved it,
You know I must be lying.
The insects encircled the light-tubes,
Maddened with love.

I remember the roads,
I enjoyed the mirth,
It smelt of burnt clay,
The dust made the cold nights worse.

I remember walking all the while,
I recollect savoring every moment,
I hardly knew of anything,
That made everything special.

I had such a lovely heart,
I could see, smell and feel things.
I had such a lovely time,
I wish I could feel them again.

La Coiffeur

A small shop,
Almost no one entered.
Had a fancy name,
That's what kept me interested.

The doors were always closed,
Never saw through them,
Never was lucky enough,
Only got a sense of the unknown inside.

In the web of mysteries, somewhere I hung my desire,
Entangled, I left them there and ran away.
Never ever was invited inside,
I just ran and ran,
Tonight I remember the name of the shop,
And the fantasies that dulled my senses.

Disgustingly simple

I struggled to find the truth,
The bruises are too much today,
The knowledge is killing.

Oh, I really battled for my ground,
Now, I am so scared to call it my own.
What I know is my greatest fear.

What I do not know is still comforting.
How I deal with the uncertainties is fabulous,
But how I have struggled against truth,
Is killing me tonight.

Why do I sense guilt, fear and anxiety?
What is wrong?
Is it just a craving for a high?
It's so disgustingly simple.

I got my pi

The biggest question I had,
Was to unearth the answer to why.
Oh and did I not understand it.

The strongest doubt I had,
Was to figure out whom.
Oh and did I not know it after all.

The grave concern I had,
Was to comprehend when,
My greatest fear became what I learnt.

The whole journey has been too much of an enlightenment,
I always wanted to,
The surprising thing is I got what I desired.
And today, that itself is such a burden.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

The traveller

Who is there for you?
O traveller!
Where do you seek to go?
Take rest for a while,
Where will you find such repose again?
O traveller.

Those days are over,
Those few days of love,
Those nights are distant dreams now.
She has got over you,
May you forget as well
The love filled meetings.
O those lovely meetings!
The darkness looms large now,
No light at the end of the tunnel.
O traveller, where do you plan to go?
Take rest for a while,
Where will you find such shade again?

No one is there awaiting you,
No one is there eager to receive you!
Of your miseries, no one suffered,
No eyes shed tears.
Whom will you call your own?
Who mourns your absence?
O traveller, where do you seek to go?
Better take a breather here,
Where will you find such comfort again?
Who is there awaiting you, O traveller?

O traveller, you showed path to so many!
How come are you lost in your journey?
You have demystified problems of others!
How come are you entangled by your own?
How can a snake-charmer sway on his own tune?
Where will you go, O traveller?
Who awaits you?
O traveller, where will you go?
Why don't you take some rest?
You may not find such shade again!
No one awaits you, O traveller, no one.

The learned say the world is a mirage,
The writings are in water,
It is seen by all, it is experienced by all,
But no one owns anything,
Nothing is yours or mine,
O traveller, where will you go?
Take rest for a while?
Where will you find such shade gain?
Who awaits you there?

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

In this sized vessel

When the cold wind blows,
I miss the summer.
When the bright sun glows,
I miss the rains.

When I see so much,
I miss myself.
When I am alone,
I seem to miss everything. 

Sometimes, I don't understand when,
I get a strange contentment.
I try to figure out with my limited senses,
The reasons seem to surprise me today
And fool me tomorrow.

Can I get rid of myself ?
In this sized vessel,
Can I possibly store the ecstasy?

If in acceptance lies the truth,
Where is contentment ?
Is it in fulfillment?
Is it in exuberance?

Is it that I get freed,
Only when I am done?
Is that I have to wait for the ultimate moment,
To experience the true bliss?

Is that the journey is meant to be eventful?
Is that the destination is an end to all of that?
Is reaching, not the idea?
Is hanging around, the objective?

Is purpose, a consolation?
Is destiny, a joke?

Is that the purpose is truly so naive?
Yet, the manifestation so complex?

Saturday, November 19, 2011

A train journey and thereafter

I caught the last train.
I was only lazy.
Who wants to leave home?

Who wanted to go back?

I took all the wrong steps.
I took all my time.
I boarded the train,
Struggling my way through the crowd.

She was sitting close by.
I had hardly seen her.
She was shining,
I was my usual.

We sat apart,
Who knew we would talk?
We were born different.
Who knew we would align? 

I remember, when she asked my name.

I remember, I looked out of the window,
Into the darkness past her.
I was my usual cynic.

I never knew of any light.
Until I saw her more.
I saw her a few days more.
I had written the only piece of paper.
That ever made sense to me.

I do not know,
How I slept those nights,
How I lived those days.
Why was it supposed to be?

Ever since, I have experienced life.
I have felt myself.
I have been closer to the reality.
Why did I ride the fateful train?

When there was nothing,
She was there for sometime.
Whenever I had asked myself,
I never got a different answer.

How can my mind colour things
To make them look beautiful ?
Or are they really so fascinating?
Why do I need to know?

One night, it was so cold.
I was shivering.
Only god could be so kind
To put the shawl on me.

I had given her a burning piece of paper,
I had lit a cigarette.
There was a fire in the ground.
Music filled the air.

I probably wont be able to listen
To that song for long now.
I can hardly know anything more sure,
Than that it was supposed to be.

We were separated by walls,
Before we could totally part.
But how I ran to the station,
How I could not look beyond anymore.

She was going back.
I literally ran to the station.
She was scribbling something,
She handed me over a burnt piece of paper.

Who knew that the fire would prolong?
Who knows if it still burns?
Dreams and illusions are as real as
The world that exists besides me.

I sat down with her on the platform,
She said nothing,
We tried to act,
Everything was destined to be over soon.

The train arrived,
It was running through me,
When it stopped at the station,
My heart stopped too.

She moved her suitcase,
She pulled her big handbag,
I was trying to say good-bye,
Her fingers slipped away from mine.
Never have I held a hand stronger.

How was I to know,
That it would make me unhinged?
When I utter my silent prayers,
Can He not intervene again?

Is an individual's faith any less than
The faith of a group?
Why was there a miracle that night?
Why can't it repeat itself tonight?

I have so outgrown myself,
I have become so immersed.
Why do I have to see through the pain?
Why do I have to deal with causality?

Why can't the Architect show me two doors?
Am I so blinded by falsities?
Am I so less ?
I can't see a different culmination.
Why can't the veil be removed again?

Will she come back with Morpheus,
Looking for me?
Will she find the Train-man?
Will she take the trouble?

Everything can't have a causality.
There must be scope for irrationality.
Everything can't be added up.
There must be scope for generosity.

Actions are hardly the projections of human thoughts.
Can a man not succumb to externalities?
Can one journey define a man's life forever?

I immerse myself tonight in prayer.
In the court of Almighty.
In gratitude and pleasure.
A weak bliss and lot of devotion.

My wants are so ruthless,
Feels bad to know they originate from me.
Yet, I ask, if there is a bigger reality?
Is there a bigger reality than
When all that matters is a simple smile from her.

My sins are deep.
My wishes many.
I am as human as I could be.
Why can't she be less divine?

Friday, November 18, 2011

The clock

The clock ticks away,
Calm and meticulous.
The gears engage every moment,
A human endeavor to measure the unthinkable.

The clock ticks away,
Things have remained the same for so long.
The minutes add, the seconds multiply,
The dust accumulates on the edges.

A human superstition to rebel -
Against the silent passage of time ?
The clock just ticks away,
A rational justification of the inexplicable.

A meaningless effort to measure change,
A change in something so surreal.
Something which we can possibly not perceive in absolute,
But difficult to even refute.

A fool's paradise,
A man's world.
The clock - only if it could skip a few moments.
Bound by the gear teeth of the physical reality,
What can it possibly capture?

Saturday, November 12, 2011

The beautiful lanes of Krishna Nagar

The road is narrow,
The way is thick and fast.
The houses save each other
From the rays of the tropical sun.

The ice cream vendors drag their frozen boxes
To and fro.
The wheels keep on turning,
People are coming home.

The clothes hang by the balcony,
Curious glances meet each other.
The shops are so full of ingredients of life,
The air smells of love.

The roads are dusty and uneven,
Like the very road of life,
They are half-made and lively,
Unlike the depressing concretes.

The small market lies close by,
Sustains the samsara in the lanes,
The nirvana is of course in the small kothis,
Love is that what bridges the gaps.

The seasons change, 
People move on,
The lanes look ever so beautiful,
On the canvas of life,
The paintings go on.


I have grown heartless,
So have you.
My thoughts have dried,
So have your words.

I have become restless,
But you are no longer there.
My dreams are so dead,
Only yours were beyond me.

I wonder, if sense will prevail,
Will reason stand without bias,
Will justice be done without prejudice,
Will we submit ourselves to the truth ?

Will all these happen in the fullness of time?
Or, are we already so lightyears away,
That things have changed.
That men have ceased to exist ?

Monday, November 7, 2011

A fundamental dilemma

The door opens to an island of treasure.
The treasures cater to the satisfaction of the herd.
The herd forgets even that the door was once closed. 

The door gets closed now.
The herd can't see the darkness anymore.
The dazzle blinds them too!

The attachment keeps me engrossed,
The detachment keeps me informed.
The ties make me delighted,
The serenity makes me immortal.

The crowd is busy.
The lonely is experiencing the continuum.
The deserted can hear the silence,
The occupied is bound to only crave for more.

The fundamental dilemma is between pleasure and bliss.
A relationship with the continuum or a spike in existence?

At ease with the Brahman or at ease with yourself ? 
Happy with the limits or unsatisfied with the burden of the unlimited ?
May be, organic involvement or may be detachment of the soul ?
Causality of the inevitable ? What about that ?

If the choice is already made, what a lame task to understand it !
What a lame opportunity to exist, what a sham to put up with it.
Knowing well that the choices are illusions, 
One leading faster to the source than the other!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Less is beautiful

Drops of water,
On my head. 
Only one glance,
And she left.

Lane was pitch dark,
But the neon light.
There was total silence,
But she hummed something.

Sky was black,
One errant white thing.
There was laughter,
And the grim photo on the wall, hinged.

The dishes were full,
The glasses to the brim,
Something was vacuous,
There was emptiness.

The air was chilled,
Her voice was warm.
I just kept looking at the fire,
And nothing she said.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

My love

It was never really alien to me,
That I loved you.
Only in moments of the evil hours,
Have I questioned your love.

You never halt, my love,
Such is your vitality.

Some stupid make the only valiant attempt
To outwit you.
And they only achieve to match you, my love.

I salute your divine grace,
Your directionality and focus.
And how you fool me, my love.
I am only a mortal, and to perceive you
Is such a struggle beyond the mundane battle
In the evolutionary ground.

It must be difficult being you,
To witness all and still not be a part of any.
Such is your universality,
That I surrender to you, my love.

It is beyond my capacity
To express my adoration towards you.
You are overwhelmingly simple
And true.

Nothing would make sense without you,
Sense is there, because of you.
The world revolves with you.
You run the universe or do you?

Entropy seems to follow you
And my love, who don't?
I shall perish soon and so will so many,
And yet you carry all of us with you,
You try to give a meaning to this existence,
Such is your love.

You are my prophet,
You are my true love.

Synchronous to the subtle movements
Of those man-made gears,
I breathe my respect to you.

The final hour

I might have just done wrong enough,
Wrong enough not to survive the storm tonight.
I might love you and survive tonight.
But your love will still kill me one day.

I might be wrong,
I have never been far from it.
I have tried to be right,
Only to fail miserably more so.

I might rejoice tonight.
In the acceptance of my follies,
I feel proud and sick.
There is a vague satisfaction.

Nothing has made sense yet,
I have gone through all of it.
Only to see how badly we fail,
How badly we lose against the conspiracy,
The conspiracy of life.

There is no regret,
But to submit to an evolutionary defeat,
And God's will reigns supreme.

Like an emperor of the mind,
I declare the sovereignty of love will assure peace,
And the ruling of the reason will ensure prosperity,
And faith will create happiness.
And still nothing will really pass the final test.
Everything will dissolve in the universal solvent.
And don't ask me what it is.

I would like to believe it's ether.

I guess this solvent is time.
It is this beautiful seductress
Whom nobody can renounce.
No soul has the audacity to steer itself away
From the clasp of time.
Only in miraculous moments in life,
Does time freeze and enjoy them my friend.
And I assure you have lived if you have.
You cannot live more, if you have.

I might not have done justice to my moments in life,
But you don't run away from them.
Let them sink and drown yourself with them.
And wait for the final hour.
The bell shall toll and He will come.

Monday, September 5, 2011


There is a disturbing silence,
There is some ecstatic smoke.
The air is reeking of burnt carbon,
And there is diffused enlightenment
Trying to fight the growing darkness.

The lamp-light is blinding and merciless,
The fan blades are rotating ominously,
The compressor is sweating out,
Collective intelligence lies scattered,
Shelved, or subdued.

Reasons are keeping me awake,
Substances trying to comfort me,
Memories are suffocating,
I am battling to get rid of life until
There is light again in this world.

The pleasure centers of my brain,
Have stopped fooling me.
Love and devotion are miraculously emanating
From the unburnt cells of my body.

There is not much of a struggle left now,
The end seems near.
Not a light year to cross,
Before she comes and kisses me.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Of feelings

I slept late,
I slept so late that day.
I woke up nervous,
So nervous the next morning.

I had abandoned logic
And gave myself a chance.
A chance to decipher the confusion,
To give feelings a chance.

I had planned my day,
My body was nimble,
My mind not perturbed any more,
Long had I waited to do the simple.

I put myself up in a cosy room,
I let my impulses bloom.
I took a walk around,
It was cloudy and pleasant.

The show was set,
The clock was ticking away,
Life loomed large on me,
Life was looking at me.
I did not look back.

All I did was to take risk again,
This time I only used my brain.
I let my feelings rest,
I did not stir my impulses in vain.
I knew the hour had come.

Nobody would know how it felt,
Only God knows, what I meant.
Only God knows, how I dealt.

I did the unthinkable
And let my feelings aside.
I broke the laws and smiled inside.
Of feelings? I rose to be a man.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The Mind

I react because of compulsions,
Of compulsions that are not even mine.
I retort with conviction,
With convictions that are hardly mine.

I believe in substances,
Substances of existence,
Circumstances are hardly mine.

Time is within me,
Stored, ingrained since history began,
And what it makes me do,
Is the responsibility mine?

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Some unusual Monday mornings

The bus dropped me near the garage,
The road took a curious little turn,
Few shops stood innocently as we rushed past.
We were late.

The road was muddy,
The sky was brilliant,
I hardly had the time to look at others,
I was late.

The train would come any moment,
The platform was still far off,
The morning was so pure,
I had hardly noticed.

I loved the breeze,
I did not halt to enjoy it all,
Was I really so late?
I had to catch the train.

The stairs were steep,
Legs were young,
Eyes were old,
I simply moved on.

The cycles were parked near the counter,
The morning was getting busy,
Cunning faces were talking,
Smiling faces were lying.

I had a bag on my shoulders,
They carried parts of me,
I was in time to catch the train,
May be the train was late.

There was some rush outside,
There was some inside,
The train made it before eight,
To board it was a fight.

There was a nice smell coming from somewhere,
Or may be it was just me,
It was familiar yet distant,
It was too precious to be savored.

I boarded the train,
Left my bag on the bunk above,
Came back to the doorway,
Lost myself amidst the greenery.

They made such false promises,
Hurts today to feel them again,
Yet, I loved to look,
I know I could not refrain.

Friday, July 29, 2011

The Hijli Station

When one takes the obvious route,
One doesn't reach Hijli.

The railway crossing conceals,
Where the road takes a narrow turn.

It smelled foul to go to Hijli.
It did not promise anything.
Yet we went.
We went because it made us feel we were free.

The railway tracks followed us,
Some goods train haunted us.
Yet we went.
We went as there was no place else.

Few houses had cropped up,
Around the serene station.
Fewer people waited in the platform,
A handful of trains would stop.
But we went,
We were not planning to go anywhere.

The over-bridge hung ominously over the platform,
Bridged middle earth to heaven up above,
Not the two sides of the station for sure.
We knew better.

As we stood there and looked at a distance,
Nothing could be seen,
A mild breeze blew,
Like God telling us,
He was watching.
Was He?

A goods train made creaking noise,
In an attempt to leave Hijli.
But much like us, it succumbed.
The lights were red everywhere.

The Insti tower could be seen,
Standing tall amidst all confusion.
Concrete structures don't lie.
But do they stand the test of time?

I rested on the metal frame,
I was restless and young,
But that was all that I had.
The lights went green,
Even the goods train left.

It was quite late,
But we still stayed.
We half-understood the plot!
Time moved on mercilessly.

The houses were lit up every night,
Seemed like garlands of stars,
Plucked from happy galaxies.
Not quite what awaited us back.

But at least when we left,
We knew Hijli stood there.
It waited there, motionless.
Heavy but weary, we left.

Hijli remained alarmingly close,
To all the disgust.
Without getting tainted itself.
Or was it just us?

Only love could be so dreamy.
Only belief could be so amazing.
It stood there motionless.
Lights went from red to green.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

The lanes of Delhi

 I was waiting,
These days my heart does not beat that fast.
I looked around,
Things were dull.

Nothing seemed wrong,
I was waiting.
Surprised, I was with myself,
How things are!

He came after a while.
Led me.
Narrow lanes, old houses,
Puddles, clothes hanging,
Music coming out from somewhere.

The lanes narrowed further
To gaps and cracks.
He walked on,
I followed.

It was stinking of leftovers
from the morning market.
Smelling of raw meat,
Was I hungry?

We went up,
Leaving all the confusion downstairs.
Loud, busy, people, cattle, rain, everything.
I climbed above all that, with life.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Restless Days Sleepless Nights: Kharagpur.

Brief note:

IIT Kharagpur is a land of dreams and nightmares. I landed up there with dreams, got nightmares as I lived. But, the uninitiated that I was, may be, I needed it, badly. All of us have experiences in our lives, we live in our own worlds. But why Prad and I decided to pen down our experiences, is not just because we are completely jobless or that we love Chetan Bhagat. We started off very ambitious, indeed. But, our Bengali intellect caught up with us in no time and the simple pleasures of life, which we were deprived of, made us even more disoriented or apathetic to doing something useful in life. The only way, I feel, even Prad would agree, we feel we can contribute to this great race of humanity is by recounting our mistakes in this life. But the best thing as I live today, is that some of my nightmares have given shapes to some of my dreams, and some of my fears have actually come true. On a serious note, I would give the credit to a lot of people ideally. But being terse and cynical, I would also throw some on Kgp, as we so lovingly call Kharagpur.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The clock stopped ticking

People come, people go.
Times flow.

People love, people hate,
There is a fate.

People eat, people drink,
Reasons sink.

People work, people party,
No such thing as dirty!

People live, people die,
There is never a tie.

People win, people lose,
It's space-time abuse!

People dress, people undress,
Not all, face to face!

People lie, people do not,
In any case, time freezes not.

People laugh, people cry.
Does God even try?

People believe, people reason,
Does He even listen?

People read, people write,
Is every morning, the sun only as bright?

People come, people go,
Times flow.

Oh! Calcutta

Oh! When I fight, you yawn,
When I fly, you lie down.

When I rise, you wander.
When I argue, you ponder.

When I crib, you rejoice,
When I struggle, you remain in poise.

Oh! When I fall, you seem to float,
When I soar, you don't gloat.

Your silence kills me,
Your serenity baffles me.

Is it wisdom, or is it just a coincidence,
Is it willful abstinence,
Is it carefree avoidance?

There is such a mist,
There is such a small twist.

Come my love,
Tell me what it is.
Give me reason.

How can such asymmetry exist?
How can such chaos be?
How long can I hold on to disbelief?

The more I see, it makes no sense.
The less I think, the more it feels good.

Take me on a ride,
And prove me wrong.
Give your ideas to me,
Sing me a new song.

The streets smell of mirth,
The lanes reek of old earth.
Oh! I feel so lost!
So numb out of no frost.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I'm Stud Lee

I am stud lee,
Talk godly,
Drink largely.

I love Marley,
Eat barley with aloo kabli,

I'm friendly,
U r lovely,
Let's run, you charlie.

Live calmly,
Roam dumbly,
Not for me luckily.

Ride smoothly,
Move highly,
I'm Studly.

Think slightly,
Do Brett Lee,
Sleep portly.

Dress manly,
Drive madly,
Smoke minutely.

I live do-not-matter-ly,
Enjoy utterly,
Avoid butterly.

No more bullshit, end abruptly.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Is it ?

It is not the running waters,
It is not the clear sky,
It is not even the cold air,
It is me.

It is not your wet hair,
It is not even your nose ring,
It is not your smile,
It is me.

It is not the monsoons,
It is not the storm,
It is not the lightning,
It is me.

It is not even the lights,
It is not the moonlight,
It is not even the dark,
It is me.

It is not the flowers,
It is not what Schopenhauer said,
It is not what anybody would,
It is me.

It is not how much it took me,
It is not whether I had gone,
It is not why anybody would,
It is me.

It is not the train journey,
It is not where I was going,
It is not if there was a reason,
It is me.

It is not about happine
Hardly it is,
It is not about anything else I can think of,
It is me.

It is not deep,
It is not shallow,
It is not within or without,
It is me.

It is not about lies,
It is not about truth,
It is not even about sanity,
Is it even fucking me?

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

End of reason

It is not you, but I,
Where the imperfections find shelter.
It is not you, but I,
Who still searches for himself.

If I am awake now,
I know that you are still looking.
If I am in sense tomorrow,
It must be you who inspires.

In all the melodies,
There is your music.
In all the harshness,
There is your touch.

It is before you,
Where my reasons end.
It is beneath you,
Where I lie tonight.

You reside in absolute,
Everything else is relative.
I changed frames,
But I did not miss you.

Only in parabolas, 
May be I went,
But you stayed always at the focus.

The flowers bloomed,
Only at your whisper,
The water flowed,
Only to please you.

And I live,
Only to reach you.
If I die,
It will be to reach you.

I know it tonight,
What magic you weave,
I end my reason here,
My doubts have burst,
To a joy unbound.

You exist beyond my ideas,
You persist beyond my beliefs,
Only I chose to recognise,
When time froze.

In the abundance that lies before me,
I can see you in harmony,
I can perceive you today,
To my own dismay.

I can only sense a pleasure,
A tickle somewhere within,
That you are here,
An inexplicable affair!

I pray that you set me free,
From all that binds me,
I wish to follow you,
For the one last time.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


A storm had set in,
The dust blinded my sight,
It was very confusing,
If it were not for your eyes.

I had a lot of questions,
It is a folly to ask,
I was looking for answers,
What a blunder it was.

When I looked into your eyes,
Everything disappeared.
The storm was gone,
The moon light shone.

I did not question my feeling,
And just sunk in the belief.
I still do not seek a solution,
How can an illusion be a relief!

For a while, I read,
It was unclear.
I walked, it remained blur.
It was only your smell,
Which seemed promising.

Not facts, nor figures,
Not notions, not conventions,
There was a divine intervention,
And the doubts resurfaced.

The curtain was pulled away,
The clouds thinned,
I could see again in the light of the world,
The darkness that lay within.

I took shelter under the canopy of reason,
There was no warmth,
I sat down with the wise,
But it remained only a futile exercise.

It was only in faith,
That I found repose.
It was only in devotion,
There was respite.

How beautiful is illusion,
Only a religious man can know.
Where reason ends,
May, My lord, I start.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Long roads, short journeys

I was running fast,
They were catching up.
I was trying hard,
They were running faster.

The road was tough,
I fell down,
They went past,
It felt good to sit down.

I rested for days,
I slept my nights.
And they were running back past me,
I was sick.

I recovered soon,
They had left.
My dreams broke,
To a lot of pleasure.

My wishes were fulfilled,
My senses soothed.
My heart frozen,
My mind parched.

I plunged into the water,
It did not remove the stain.
I did so every day,
It made me insane.

I burnt my shadow,
I sold it off.
I saw them running again,
I had a laugh.

I went to the narrow street,
Had my cup of tea.
I did what keep things going,
I waited for none.

Then again, I sat back,
Just felt good,
Felt so good,
Wished I died right then.

What killed me

She did not say a lot,
I just listened to her silence.
She sat beside me,
I had my breakfast.

I liked her eyes,
I liked her specs.
She was not looking,
I was not looking.

We went out to Migros,
She did not have anything.
I felt like not eating,
I looked at her.

We were walking together,
They were all behind us.
She asked something,
I do not know what I said.

I asked her something,
I know she said a lot.
She knew what I asked,
I knew what she said.

I felt like holding her hand,
Everything seemed nice.
It was a sunny day,
She was looking bright.

We knew the clock was ticking away,
We were still looking away.
They were saying something,
She was talking to me.

I do not know why it killed me,
But I know that it killed me.
We went upstairs,
There were things yet to be done.

She looked at me,
I smiled back.
She wanted to say something,
I liked the silence.

She was leaving early,
I saw her going.
She stopped by,
It killed me.

There was something,
That cannot be explained.
There were those things,
That you do not explain.

Her voice remained like a sweet fragrance,
Her eyes reminded me of things, I have lost.
Her hair left behind a lot of questions,
She went away.

I was in the streets again;
I killed her in my mind.
She came back again,
But killed me this time.

Meine Damen Und Heren

The wrong things looked right,
The strong things looked bright.
I was in distress.

The wrong people I loved,
The long roads I walked,
I was in a mess.

The burden I carried,
The help I refused,
I was thinking of something else.

The winds blew,
The water was still,
I was missing the essence.

The facts remained,
The logic connected,
I was still confused.

The truth uncovered,
All lies lay bare,
I was no longer enthused.

Just a speck of dust,
May be sand, fell on my right eye,
I realised.

Saturday, May 14, 2011


She was looking at me,
I lighted my cigarette.
She lighted one herself,
I looked away.

She had nice hair,
I looked back,
My cigarette was burning ash,
My head was aching.

She puffed away,
Moved her hand over her hair.
I looked at the reflections on the water,
Everything seemed gloomy.

I saw her image on the water,
It told me everything,
I did not want to know.
I took a puff again.

Her eyes had those colors,
That makes me blind.
But the smoke numbed my senses,
I enjoyed the disaffection.

I looked at her again,
She looked away.
I saw the smoke,
It blurred the background.

I could only see her now,
I breathed again,
The sky was hazy,
The moon was trying to hide behind the clouds.

She looked back at me,
I smoked the last puff.
I saw her reflections going away,
The water, disturbed.

I saw through the smoke,
I looked beyond her,
The backdrop was clear,
She was fading.

My thoughts faded away,
I lighted another cigarette.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Old lanes

The narrow lanes led to nowhere,
The old bricks were falling apart,
The flowers looked dull and dusty,
The kids were making noise.

There was an ice cream vendor,
The rusted iron gate led to the playground,
The women looked out of their balconies,
The men were coming back from work.

The tank water overflowed ,
Ran down the hoses to the streets,
The street lights started to glow,
The dogs were barking.

The radio was loud,
The college girl was studying,
There were a few guys,
smoking at the corner of the street.

The boys were done with cricket,
The shops started selling snacks,
The sky was cloudy,
A gust of wind blew away the clothes
on the terrace.

People looked up the sky in relief,
some looked up in anticipation,
some looked up in dismay,
The rain had set in.

The water logged in puddles,
Washed away the gloom,
Tin rooves made a clattering sound,
Some were caught up,
Some went about their work.

The evening was cooler,
The lights went out,
Everything seemed darker,
The sunny day seemed history.

The cars splashed water,
The lanes were muddy,
Old folks were having tea,
Young people were dreaming.

I was tired of looking out,
I went inside.

Friday, April 8, 2011

The road to Salua

How miserable the journey was, don't ask me!
How lonely the road turned out to be, don't ask me.
But still I went, every other day.

I sped my cycle away from all that killed me,
I made my way through all that held me back,
Why I went, don't ask me!

The only place where I could run to,
The only solace that I could get,
I know why you didn't ask me.

No legs were more quick,
No soul more enchanted,
No mind more puzzled,
Not that I expect you to ask.

When I left the premises,
May be I was in pain,
By the time I reached the crossing,
I knew to ask of you, was in vain.

How often I took the right turn,
Surprises me even today.
When everything lay to the left,
To Salua still I went.

Some days in the morning,
I would cycle my way there.
Often in the deserted afternoons,
I would lose myself to Salua.

The road went straight,
Went a little up, a little down,
Took some bends,
To somewhere it went,
But I halted at Salua.

Small shops thronged
the village roads,
Lots of cycles were parked
At the small clinic.

I went as far knowing
I had to come back.
I went the distance knowing
It doesn't end.

The road went on,
But my journey ended at Salua,
The road still goes,
But I miss the way to Salua.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

The ceiling fan

I don't look at the stars anymore.
I don't feel good when the moon shines.
I don't like to feel the cold breeze,
But the ceiling fan still rotates.

I don't eat as much,
I don't finish my drink.
I don't go all the distance,
I don't ring you up anymore,
But the ceiling fan still rotates.

I don't remain awake late.
I don't wake up with a purpose.
I don't argue much,
The ceiling fan still rotates.

I do not walk the same roads,
I do not remain sober,
I don't think about it,
But the ceiling fan still rotates.

I don't go cycling in the village roads,
I don't ride the city buses,
I don't swim in the old pool,
I don't dream,
But the ceiling fan still moves on.

I don't read the news,
I don't listen to those songs,
I don't look out of the window really,
But the ceiling fan just doesn't stop.

I don't watch those films,
I don't go those places,
I don't stop by your place,
And the ceiling fan still rotates.

I don't read those letters,
I don't use that bed,
I don't wear those clothes anymore,
But this ceiling fan still goes on.

I do not use that perfume,
I haven't kept that pendant,
I don't know about myself these days,
The ceiling fan just doesn't stop.

I don't remember your face,
I don't like these idiots,
I don't wish to live that long,
And the ceiling fan still goes on.

I don't want to let it out,
I don't want to get over it,
But I don't know what if
The ceiling fan just stops now.

P.S. Saving energy and turning the fan off are no-way related, but surely you can do it for your own pocket.

Monday, February 21, 2011

The way you made me feel

Not until I was with you,
I didn't know how I alone I was.

Not until I slept in your arms,
I never knew how alone I am.

When you held my hands,
I realized that you mean nothing.
When you turned towards me,
I felt I was not looking at you.

To live without you,
Always felt so difficult,
But to live with you,
It made me feel truly serene.

Often when I had walked alone,
Made me miss you in every step.
When I walk with you today,
It makes me miss myself even more.

That I missed you made me bitter,
That I miss myself, makes me sad.
I started my journey to discover you,
And in the end I lost myself.

But now, I know my way back,
As you breathe every moment,
I retrace my steps,
To where I stood long ago.

That it will end one day,
Seems no reason to die today.
That it will all be well one day,
Seems no reason to not fight today.

The only truth is that you lied,
That I lied, that we lie everyday.
The only hope is that
I may speak the truth some day.

All the while, I cried,
For I thought I was wrong.
All the while, I tried,
And did not care to sing my song.

It is late when I have begun,
It is too late for things to be undone.
But, sometimes, I smell a change that lurks at a distance,
I can someday crossover to the other side.

I do not care to shed a drop
of tear or blood or sweat,
I am not a war-hero,

I do not want glory.

There was chaos to start with,
But today I shall choose peace.
There was a will to fight with,
But I shall today fall asleep.

When the morning rays fall on my eyes,
Or the door bell rings,
May be I would wake up and live again,
But may be someday, I will win the bargain.

Monday, February 14, 2011

A geek's story : Valentine's Day

Like every other day,
I wake up in dismay,
And feel good when it is not
The Valentine's Day.

Sometimes I sleep well,
Dream the end of this dreaded spell,
But not when it is
The Valentine's Day.

I can't stand to wait,
And not but curse my fate.

Just feel down and irate, 
With eyes a little wet,
Every year on this date.

Out there, I see
A happy bunch making merry.
Everywhere, I look in disdain,

But none for me, as ever again.

I try to look away,
But still to Lord I pray,
When will be I on the foray?
How long like this will I stay?

Everything seems a waste,
I live alone in detest.
How insensitive, I wish to protest!

That you regale while
I survive this cruel life's test.
I sulk my own way
Every Valentine's Day.

I live better,
I am on facebook and twitter

On other days, but what on
The Valentine's Day?

May be, I have my own quirks,
And I have my own twists,
But still with my girl,

I want to make a tryst.

Not any other day, 

I sulk much of being serene.
It just gets on my nerve,
With the Valentine's verve!

May be, I will too,
One day be two.
And go out with my babey,

On some other day!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

It is strange

It is strange
That I have changed.

It is strange
That things have changed.

When I walk today,
I can see a new way.
When I think of it,
I know how different it was that day.

I feel the change,
Do you feel the same?
How I thought of things and me, 
How they shaped up to be!

I don't feel the way I did,
Not that today I am any less livid. 
I feel a change,
It is so strange.

Not a reason that I see
Why this is what it ought to be!
How I had lived a false hope,
Now I look away through my telescope.

How I thought I would die,
How I learnt up to lie.
I want to laugh now,
I know to live now.

Everything makes sense,
Shattered are the chains,
That tied me so long,
And now to no one I belong.

I know how you feel,
I know why they kill,
I know the reasons,
I know what imprisons.

Things are strange,
It is better that they change!

What is so bright today,
Is so dead another day.
I feel the change,
It's so strange.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Made for each other

The Old Monk and the young man,
The Old Spice and the gentleman.
The Lakme colours and the lovely lady,
The teenage queen and her little teddy.

The Lee denim and the hunk,
The booty girl and her lot of junk.
The Beret and the French guy,
The Pagdi and the Sardar bhai.

The white collar and the banker,
The sulking boss and his rancour.
The Famous Five and the little boys,
The young lass and her stately poise.

The coffee and the gang,
The Coke and the bang!
The love and the flowers,
The painter and his Camlin colours.

The sexy woman and the Gucci,
The lonely man and John Petrucci.
The Leo toys and the school kid,
The Wall Street Guy and his Lexus hybrid.

The clerk and his Reynolds pen,
The Chivas Regal and all sensible men.
The Thomas Cook and the honeymoon couple,
Adolescence and a lot of trouble.

The Everest and a few,
All but me and you.

The man who sold spices

Long ago I knew a man,
Who used to sell mace, cumin and cinnamon;
Black glasses he would wear,
May be, had no vision.

He always had a smile-
Made me think a while.
When talking to him,
My ideas seemed so fragile.

I can still visualize,
His tattered bag, his dim profile.
I ll never forget the smell of his spices,
And how he never cared for the prices.

He used a walking stick,
And joked about how when young, he was a prick.
His stories were rich,
But he would never preach.

So good it was
To have him around.
Such a man,
I never again found.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

We two stood outside

We two stood outside,
Almost every wednesday night.
We traveled miles and waited hours,
To go inside.

He had a will, I had a drive,
We bragged and begged as if for life,
Till we got inside.

We talked and stalked, 
Often they got irked,
But every time, we made it inside. 

The cars drove in and parked, 
We often felt shattered.
But we knew what is was
Once we made it inside. 

I got smoke, he got nothing,
I loved them, he loved the feeling.
So we dared to get in.

We dished out some bucks,
To forget how life sucks.
We didnt think twice,
Of any virtue or of vice.

We saw them getting in the groove,
But we were still on the move.
We got our pints,
We freed our minds.

Sometimes, we would hit on,
But ended up like morons.
Sometimes when we made a pass,
It was fun, totally kick-ass.

We lived the hours in jest,
We forgot about the rest.
Never did we revive, all that
Which lay outside. 

Every time we got branded,
Also sometimes offended,
But still we thrived
To get inside.
Drunk as we would be,
We would come out and see,
The different reality outside.

Somehow we would come back,
To our desolate barrack.
Gorge on the dull tiffin,
And quietly to bed, we would get in.

Every Thursday, 
Would be a proud day,
When we would have something to say,
How inside we made our way.

Thursday, our eyes remained red,
Aching, would be our heads,
Still we stared at the desktop screen,
But what a feeling within.

We lived for the moments,
We dreamt despite the torments,
We knew everything aside,
What fun it was inside.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Myopic without Specs

I often walk in the city roads
Not that often do I think of you.
Not that it doesn't matter any more.

When I cross over to the other side,
Often I do not see the car coming,
Not that I do not hear them honk.

Sometimes,I see them looking at me,
Often I stare,
Not that I always want to.

When I start to stroll, 
I have a heavy head,
When I am done,
Not always I go to bed.
I like the birds; the concretes,
where they rest.
I like the grass; the pavement,
where they extend.

When, sometimes I think
while I walk, I snicker,
Not that I am always bitter.

Every other day, I walk 
the same road again,
Every other day, I think
of you in vain.