New Home

Without any;

Twist and turn.

Devoid of any;

Warmth or cold.

My days rolled by 

Aimlessly.

Like a refugee 

From the past.

To seek an asylum 

In the future.

I was in a 

Perpetual exile.

While time dictated

My expatriation.

I had nowhere to 

Belong. 

Then you came

Along...

Hands clasped.

Fingers intertwined.

Head on shoulder.

You've warped time

To hold me 

In this moment.

And right now,

I'm not a refugee.

My exile has ended.

I've found a home..

In you.

No Glory in Suffering

I blew my mind

And broke my

Bones.

Spent sleepless

Nights to fix

My tone.

Cracked my 

Knuckles,

A thousand times.

To show fate

A middle finger.

Even in a storm

I learnt to laugh.

..

Lying dead in 

Your room,

Collecting dust

As you brood..

There is no

Glory in suffering.

The light at the

End of the tunnel

Is just an unlit 

Lamp.

You just have

Forgotten,

The matchstick

You've already got.

Time doesn't heal..

Darling,

You need to put on

A mask or shed one,

To move on.

.. 

Things will end

You may run like

A charging bull.

From place to

Place.

People to people.

Over the fence,

Over the fate.

But eventually 

All things end.

There will be 

A bend.

No-one left to

Lend you ears.

To douse your fears.

Nothing will be

Left to look back.

And ahead there

Will not be a 

Simple, straight track.

From a kid who

Just learnt to talk

To the granny who

Vents ghastly

Laughs.

The galaxies in

The far-fetched skies

To the quarks in

The depth of an atom.

The bull on run

Needs to gasp.

And eventually

Everything needs

To halt.

A bullet that has 

Left a gun to a

Flower that just

Lured its hunt.

A second has 

To eat an hour.

A day has to

Subsume a year.

The rage in your

Haughty eyes to

The mellow memory

Of her rose scented

Smile.

From the faded pic

You hold between

Your guilt and 

Prayers.

To the life you've

Built in colorful

Layers.

Your revolution will

Turn around.

Plan will fall will 

Fall apart.

And as you run out

Of breath and

Wait for a gasp..

Eventually,

There will be a bend.

And everything will 

Come to an end.

.. 

Hunter within

I gag my laugh,

And whack my

Mind to

Feed this night

To a lonely delight. 

I fight with my

Shadows to sleep

With tomorrows.

Throw myself to

Pretense, to deal

With my past.

I lie, I laugh.

I usually move on.

Till I see myself 

In a mirror.

Even in the dark,

It illuminates

To reflect my guilt.

These are the days

When I'm a game.

But the hunters is 

Elsewhere.

Who's doesn't 

Shoot to kill.

Stares instead.

He stares I feel.

He stares to

Make bleed.

Invokes in me

Self sabotage.

Maybe that's how

He hunts.

He convinces his

Kill.  

And sometimes,

Not elsewhere,

He's within.

I'm afraid..

The hunter 

Might be me.

Opportunism

A strand of hope

Is lost to the ruins

Of last evening and

Swine smells the

Dead to mock

Life that's left.

Gods watch the fun

While eagles dive 

Down unchecked.

Some out of hunger,

Some out of thirst.

Some out of ignorance.

Some didn't care

What was the need

And died out of greed. 

A blade of grass then 

Glistened with greens

And the devil..

And the devil did

What it's good at.

Ran for elections.

End of Childhood

When did your

Childhood end?

When first time,

Responsibly you

Took a piss? 

Or

When you washed 

Your ass after 

Taking a shit? 

When you wore 

Your dress without 

A mess? or

When you

Counted all the

Numbers without

A guess?

When, mom sent 

You to school 

Without a kiss or 

When you consciously 

Noticed your 

English miss?

It must have

Ended somewhere..

The last day of

Gully cricket.

The day you noticed 

Your pubic hair. Or

When bathing daily 

Became a habit 

Out of compulsion?

Mine did,

At the age of 10.

When my uncle,

Who was always

Sweet and offered 

Me toffees, 

Became my ghost.. 

For touching me 

Inappropriately.

Dead Room

As the ticks of

The clock,

Hammer through

The stillness of 

The night.

In a room that's

Dead.

Sleeplessly rolls,

A person who has

Forgotten to fight. 

Restlessness,

Flutters like a bird..

Corner to corner..

Poking old wounds.

Mocking budding

Hopes. 

Silhouettes,

Of memories with

Wrinkled faces,

Feed on colours.

No shadows cast.

No legacy left.

It's a clean sweep.

Oblivion sticks on 

The walls to absorb

What you remember.

Even demons are

Anxious to make

Their mark here..

The dead are afraid

Of being forgotten.

But tonight,

I have decided to live.

I'll tame that bird.

Paint on the walls,

My fondest memories.

I shall invite all my

Demons for a feast.

No one will be 

Forgotten tonight.

No one has to die.

Insomniacs are homeless

In this room where intensity of light penetrating the darkness is dwindling. Where only ticks of the clock fight the deafening silence..

I lay here suspending my animation. I roll restlessly on my bed like I've forgotten to fight long ago. I fiddle with chances of me able to make it or simply give in to fade away.

I don't respond to the mice that run around here. Neither to the suicidal noises that take a toll now and then. It's simply a long run of nothing. Pure emptiness. A vacuum.

Do you ever feel like you belong nowhere? Not to yourself, not to anyone or anywhere. Doesn't that send creeps sometimes? How to find a purpose in these sorts?

Then I look around and take my mobile. Put on the incognito and jerk off hoping to fall asleep. I do. But is that the answer? Or it's the only one? 

I suppose life is a really long journey to fall asleep. Finding ways to sleep daily to pass out ultimately. Maybe sleep is where we belong. Sleep is home. The only purpose. 

Letters have come back

If kisses could have 

Been sent through

The winds and

Hugs through rain.

Little anger of mine 

In thunder and

Simmering care through

The lightening...

The clouds would

Have gathered and 

The air would have

Hauled heavy.

The sky would have

Conspired with 

A thunderbolt to

Flood her city.

But no..

She refuses to open

Her window and

The letters I had sent

Have come back.

A spell of drought too

Has been added now,

To my longing.

Go ahead and Smile

Her razor sharp

Eyes feast on 

Mellow evenings.

Her soft hands lull

Early mornings

To sleep. 

The deep desires

Of an ocean, 

Stand shaken by her 

Naughty lips.

The light beyond

The stars, bows down 

To the elegance of

Her cheeks.

Even Lord Indra 

Is impressed by 

The rhyming stance

Of her gait.

What else is 

Required to kill

A boy like me?

Go on darling..

Go ahead and

Smile.

(Translation of previous poem)

ನಕ್ಕು ಬಿಡು

ತಿಳಿ ಸಂಜೆಗಳ 

ಕದ್ದು ತಿನ್ನಬಲ್ಲ

ತೀಕ್ಷ್ಣ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳವು.

ಎಲ್ಲ ಮುಂಜಾವುಗಳ,

ಸವರಿ ಮಲಗಿಸುವ

ಮುದ್ದು ಕೈಗಳು.

ಸಮುದ್ರದಾಳದ

ತವಕ ಮೀಟುವ

ತುಂಟ ತುಟಿಗಳು.

ನಕ್ಷತ್ರದಾಚೆಗಿನ

ಬೆಳಕ ಭಕ್ಷಿಸುವ

ಮೋಹಕ ಕೆನ್ನೆಗಳು.

ಇಂದ್ರನೂ ನಾಚಿ

ನೀರಾದನಂತೆ..ಆಹಾ! 

ಅದೆಂತಾ ನಡುಗೆ..

ಬೇರೇನು ಬೇಕು

ನನ್ನಂತಹ ಹುಡುಗನ

ಕೊಲ್ಲಲು?

ನಕ್ಕು ಬಿಡು.

You're the master

Fate is a spectator

With lots of 

Disregard for your

Life.

You alone make 

Your destiny.

Series of choices

Is what you are.

High was never

In the bottle.

Neither in the

Alcohol.

Flight was never

In the wings.

Nor in the assured

Skies.

Cooking is an act

Of a craving toungue.

A murder is first

Committed in head.

The trigger of the

Gun is often mind.

Hilt of the knife

Is always your hand.

For better or worse

You alone are 

Responsible for your

Acts. 

As, even the Gods

You worship can

Turn out to be 

As dumb as you are.

Mom Always Cooks

It's Saturday, mom is on fast.

Her offering to Lord Hanuman.

Still, she cooked.

A few days back she was sick.

Fever took over. She shivered.

Could hardly stand. 

Still, she cooked.

Months back it was her birthday.

Everyone wished. 

There were gifts.

A celebration and a party.

Guess who prepared the feast.

On Mother's Day, she cooked.

On Father's Day, she cooked. 

When she was pregnant she cooked.

On the day she delivered me,

She must have cooked.

Maybe when the nascent earth was

Born. When the planets aligned and 

The big bang happened.

Even then she must have been cooking.

Through the world wars and 

Through terrorist attacks.

Through earthquakes and

Volcanic eruptions..

Even when my father abused

And when I made her cry

She still cooked.

Maybe that's how she expresses.

See how conveniently I say that.

She cooks when angry.

She cooks when she's sad.

She loves me by cooking.

The salt is perfect even when

She hates. 

Global warming hasn't stopped her.

Neither has the feminist movement.

Maybe the future of flying cars and

Sarcastic robots will make her wonder

And make her laugh and she'll

Still cook.

One day she will die and 

In her own funeral, she'll be 

Compelled to cook.

And that'll be the last meal 

The world will ever have. 

Redemption

Between your ears

There is a prison.

Down your throat

There's a whistle.

Clenching your chest

A pump dictates

Terms of your life.

The thing between

Your thighs cries

Purpose of your life.

While two beans around

Same region has

Mocked it all the while.

The words that 

Quiver in your hand

Are in search of a

Place to safely land.

And how nice it is

If your redemption

Comes via the verses

You write.

She Rains

Moon was made

A canvas to

Paint a dream.

Sun was tamed

To find my way

To heaven.

Stars were just

Another excuse,

The reason is same.

My desires always

Take off from

Depth of the oceans..

Destination is her.

Some fantasies

Crash land on 

Barren swamps..

Points of my despair. 

They eventually

Become poems.

It has rained here

Anyway.

She must have

Opened her window

And kissed the winds

Of Punjab. 

Monsoons are her

Grace in my place. 

Loneliness Everywhere

I've soaked and

Wrung my brains.

Been hung in the

Backyard to dry.

The sun hasn't

Come up.

Loneliness

Everywhere.

My dead room is

Averse to light.

Repungent to hope

Or any kind of 

Laugh. Has been

Dust laden and

Cries for help.

But the brooms have

Gone on strike over

Salary hike. 

Loneliness

Everywhere.

The pen in my

Hand is unmoved

By empty pages.

The nib chokes

The ink.

My thoughts quiver

And evaporate

Failing to find a 

Safe passage 

Of life.

There's loneliness

Everywhere.

The dried rose petals

Between the pages

Of my old diary,

Have forgotten it all.

Now I search 

Relentlessly for

My past.

Adrift, aloof...

I'm Lonely

Everywhere.

The thing between

My thigh to the

Pump between

My ribs.

The syrup in my

Veins to the 

Wires till brain.

All ask me questions.

Searching answers

I've run out of life. 

And like hell 

Sanctioned act of

Blight, it prances

Over my chest. 

Like the little kid 

Of my elder sister.

Effing loneliness

Everywhere.