snOwfAll

I awoke feeling inebriated,

Not the usual hangover

But as if I was freshly drunk,

I got up and looked outside; I smiled.

It had rained two days back,

Yesterday they stuck their heads out

In ‘dirty’ yellowish white

But I was too busy to notice.

My backyard has had a snowfall,

Purest white of the coffee flowers,

Their scent, the sight;

This is worth staying alive for. 

to mY rOOm

As my dirty feet rest on your chest

I feel the hate of the fresh paint running through

But I know you recognize my warmth

Even after time has worn out so much.

Strong are the memories I cherish

That avalanches into my heart.

The one to whose arms I crawled,

Like a father had held me on feet first,

Whose heart grieved at the sight-

Of me with a school sachet; crying,

Always watching over me as my mother would

As I reluctantly finished my homework.

You, my closest friend, saw first

The fascinations and fantasies of my puberty;

Then slowly turning to a comfort

When the beast of depression tortured my mind

That’s when your door swung shut, leading me to exile,

Keeping me warm and beautifully lonely,

The chill on your walls teaching me to be cool

Slowly shaping myself into a character.

Now you see me in the same old chair,

Pair of empty eyes gets you worried

Then a smile stretches your red shades,

You see in my liquid depths, the beautiful face

Whose shadows had adorned my dreams,

In the meditative silence my ears strain to hear

Her musical footsteps from miles apart.

Your heart so full, you make bed for us on your lap

For me to make love to her on the warm sheets,

The love these long years have conceived

Making her an extension of my loneliness.

fArewEll to pAgeS

It was a long and misty flight

Back from the distant realms

Of magic and imagination

Where I bred a child’s perception

To escape the world’s devouring harshness.

Worn out from the journey,

Drawn back to the body, its weaknesses,

The head pushed back into the pillow

Sighing and struggling for breath

Watching the spellbound pages of the open book

Waving a long-dreaded farewell.

To pen it down in lines; what I felt,

Searched around and found all I needed,

But ‘will’ alone vanished somewhere.

The telephone vibrated in a long drone,

Voices and words of chaos coming through,

A heavy sigh; the abandoned painting

Left behind a small space of mine,

Mine alone, on the fringes of dreamy falls.

(End of another book means back to the real world, until I find another escape)

tHe moRNinG aFteR a NigHtmAre

When the morning finally came around, with hurried steps and worried mind I walked to the college. For some reason the good morning wishes of the passersby irritated me. Acquainted faces appeared like blurs in my anxiousness to make sure that my subconscious had fooled me. Finding the face among the many faces I rushed over, the face that I loved,the one I had seen covered in blood the previous night. I didn’t know what emotion reflected on my face when I realized that it was just a bad dream that I had. Some sort of relief spreading from my heart into my slackened body. I was searching for the right words to say as I walked knowing that I won’t find any to express how I felt. I heard my sound calling out the name and saw a pair of cold eyes where I expected some warmth; warmth to refuel my frozen mind with a hug. Ever plunged into cold water without a second thought and found your body recoiling and the muscles protesting in agony? Personifying the world, the lil one walked fast, pulling on her hood shadowing her face, clouding my mind. Again into the dream I fall, not the nightmare, but my own world where I believe exist characters with the same lining as me: myself projected in the ways that I define, strolling about keeping me smiling. 

YearNiNg fOr anOther nOOn

All through the yawning and waking

I waited patient,

In the cold, black dress

Of the vaporous night.

He walks out of the concrete coldness

And into the procreating sun;

Thus starts my fine day,

I’m born; a shadow in the dirt.

Sun, the one who moves it all,

The one who moves me along,

Gives me longing at morn and eve

And spares my wish at noon alone.

With the warmth of the high sun,

In its golden light, he hugs me; loves me.

Memory fails- the time when he sold himself,

His core of existence embedded in me.

Dry union of a few minutes,

Before the wretched world parts us,

The life’s painless, impassive gaze

Makes me yearn for another noon.

haPPy fOOl

A chocolate,
A smoke,
Sounds for the soul,
A vista,
Or the darkness,
Feel of the soothing wind;
And wafting in the air-
The smell of the fresh earth.
Am I drunk?
No, I'm just another happy fool.

bLind thAt I waS

Blind that I was,

While groping in the dark

Found a figure; a voice,

Her hand was smooth,

Her face wrinkled.

Blind that I was,

Didn’t really know

She had faces many;

What my fingers found

Was what I believed.

Blind that I was,

Didn’t see who she was.

She took my hand

Ran it over my own face-

Then I knew who I was.

Blind that I was,

I asked her for blossoms new,

But never heard her go;

Then heard a poet sing:

“Love - She left me all alone”.


[I see the finer aspects of love.Use my eye, see through me, find it in these lines...]

mUndAne RefLecTion

Wanting to see my ‘self’,

I bought a Mirror

For my new city room;

Didn’t pay in cash,

But in bills of love.

In the old rustic scene

The lake reflected, figures,

Though dancing in the waves,

Vast and deep; true images.

Every single night

Before the lullaby of street lamps

I stood before the Mirror;

I laughed, I cried, I danced.

Noticing stains creeping in,

Distorting my mundane reflection,

Never did the thought rise

A Mirror could crack to its core.

True, it did not crack

But instead it blasted,

And its crude shallowness

Left me all alone

To think of blue, blue lakes.

daRk sKieS

Earth is stabbing the sky
With blunt but long knives,
Rows of chimneys spitting tar,
And rays of blood red lights.

Religion v/s Logic?

Unthinking, proud moment,

Trying to find a niche

Among the portrait of saints.

The words of ignorant believers-

Yet, excited- you believe.

Employees in brain starts work,

Doubt comes about-

Does someone hear?

Does someone care

What your words plead?

Will a similar wind blow again?

Should I mourn the habits I lost?

The only prayer I say-

“I never am a sinner

I am just another lost lamb”.