Ghosts

I invoke thy old ghosts

And the new.

The one that made me wet

My bed and the one

One that hides in the

Caffeine withdrawal now.

I plead, ask, and I demand 

What's their problem? 

They ask me in return, 

What's mine?

Addiction, fear and 

The way you make me 

Feel like shit, I say. 

And surprisingly their 

Answer is the same.

I had to hug them to 

Let them go.

I've decided to dig up my

Other hidden graves too.

To host a party to peace out 

With these hoes.

Biggest treaty since 

World War One.

Reparations greater 

Than Versailles and stuff.

Hope the consequences,

Don't lead to another war.

If I'm spared to myself,

I'll stay withdrawn.

Masters

A few kilograms of rice
And maybe some daal.
A hundred or a five
Hundred note at times.

That's how we sell our
Votes to rot in the same
Hope, again and again.

The fire is costly and
Hunger is cheap.
And the value of life is
An overlookable stat.

Life doesn't improve.
Livelihood too.
Had to take things in hand
To etch fate on our
Foreheads in bold.

But God complains,
Says it's illegible, to
Outsource the task of
Reading to doctors.

Nothing changed though.

Bodies piled up and
The Doctors in turn ruined
Their handwriting in
The process.

Little Things

We kept on arguing over
A perfect flavour.
A perfect flower and fragrance.
A perfect house and
Homeliness.

A flawless you for a
Flawless personality of mine.

Our un-met realities against
The imagined fantasies,
That fizzled out some humble
Possibilities-

Between what you said
And what I heard.
What you expect and
What I could offer-

Truth is a bird that grew
Wings to fly away.

And we sulk here wingless.
Complaining about
A mirage, that could have
Been our big flight.

We can hug and cuddle.
But no. We wait for a
Perfect moment to come
For our initiation.

Small steps for a big leap-

But we're obsessed about
Cleaning our feet first,
Than walking with disregard
For the dirt.

Idealism killed us, our love
Is incomplete that's how.

Life Goes On

Happy or Sad. Married or 

Unmarried. Homeless, 

Broke or abandoned.

Everyone finds something 

To live by in the end.

Everyone finds their niche,

To operate around, at least 

Some minimal needs. 

And after a point, it's just

One more day of breathing. 

One more night of surviving,

Before seventy years go by 

Without you realizing.

 

Yes, death is inevitable.

But even life, the very 

Act of living or surviving-

It's stubborn. One can't 

Simply give up, can we?

To live somehow. 

To find love, even if it's 

Just a bit. If not in a mansion. 

By a roadside shelter-

And if not under the 

Streetlight. We manage it

Under the flicker of a lamp 

Discarded by a passerby.

Retakes

''Cut, ready for a retake.''

'Cut, Retake. The make up

Is not right'

"Cut, Retake, in the next 

Scene, tear up a little less."

I don't want an exaggerated 

Sob- says the director.

Is this the 19th take?

Who cares. All you can feel

Is his hands on your bust.

Intended brush on the hips.

This hasn't changed in ages.

Cry a little less? How?

Your every effort to suppress 

Each drop of tear,

Bursts open another fissure 

That wants to laugh.

Laugh and laugh, till all 

The tormenters are deaf?

Molesters turn blind and 

The divide that comes with 

Gender is neutered?  

But you can't laugh. 

Can you?

All the efforts you put up

To cry a little less in the next 

Take, when you've an 

Ocean to pour down.

What's more ironic?

Inability to laugh or 

Cry a little less?

Or the fact that the director 

Says 'scene' and you're

Ready again for 

The next nineteen. 

Or God knows how many!

Wish You Happy Deepawali

I wish you a Happy Deepawali.

I wish all your siblings holidays,

To make it home this time.

I wish those cousins and friends 

In the village, gather in your 

House to fill up the space.

I wish your dad makes you clean 

The house, put up those lights,

Wash the vehicles and fight

With everyone a couple of times.

I wish you play Uno with people

Around and be blessed with 

The luxury of gully cricket in 

The high school playground.

I wish those aunties bother you

With questions of marriage.

Grandparents force you to touch

Their feet, only to give you twenty 

Rupees like they always did.

I wish you a lazy morning 

With the preview of the match 

Playing on the TV. And the smell from 

The kitchen invade your senses 

When you're not hungry.

I wish you realize what's a home.

The smell of Oily Vada, the taste of 

Mix Mithai. The hints of light

That binds you in a fraternity.

I wish you all the mundane things

That come with a home.

I wish you a hungry stomach 

And blessings of a mom's kitchen.

More than the festival, I wish you

The sensibilities of it. I wish you

Completeness of all the emotions.

I wish a very Happy Deepawali and

The warmth of a home.