Dev n Danav

And when you look

Within yourself.

To make peace with 

Your Dev and Danav-

The unending turmoil 

From both ends,

Pushing you into more

Chaos-

The risk of poison 

When you churn

The ocean is forever.

The Halahal is 

Inevitable and the 

Amrit, at most 

Is dumb luck.

But should it mean 

Men shouldn't aspire 

Immortality?

One has to plunge

Into action believing 

Shiva may come

To one's rescue.

Rather- believe 

You yourself can 

Become Neelkanth.

And if you do-

You shall stand above 

All Dev and Danav.

So shall Halahal

And Amrit.

My Own Muse

For a day, or two,

Or longer still,

Let me be my own muse:

A mirage of hope

I chase within.

Can I place myself

On a pedestal-

To look at me

As I look at the moon?

Clouds made of 

Rainbows.

Periwinkles blooming

Through cement 

Cracks.

The last light of sun

Falling at right angles

On a restless tide.

Can I be the evening breeze

Brushing past her cheeks?

Can be a caress to 

Cleanse myself

In her fragrance?

Can I hold myself

Between a prayer and 

A dance?

A fragile ray of starlight

Defying an ancient giant?

Can I slip through

The cracks of inevitability,

And sing lullabies-

For myself, this time?

A mindless thought.

Irrational decision.

Sweet little accident

And an irresistible 

Grasp.

Like the same one 

In a million chance 

Of being born.

Can I be my own muse?

For making it this far.

Middleman

The Gods give bribe 

To the priest to hide their 

Intentions from the devotees.

Devotees pay a convenience 

Fee for speedy delivery of 

Their prayers to the deity.

Overwhelmed by the attention 

From both sides, The priest 

Decides to act funny.

Over it, excessively burps 

And farts. Stands half-naked

And jabbers in a language 

You don’t understand.

He is a self-proclaimed 

Pampered kid of Lord himself.

Always in shady scheme of things,

Patronizing devotees-

Slowly he makes cotton 

Balls out of the prayers,

Thrusts them in the ears

Of lord-

Each plea makes the god

A bit more deaf and 

Devotees a bit more desparate.

Till one day when the

Middleman declares-

How silence is the holiest 

Answer.

And the devotees offer more,

The crowd bows deeper.

The god grows dumber.

The priest grows fatter.

And faith remains-

Stripped, milked,

But forever obedient

And utterly blind.

Lust on Steroids

I claw at your back

As if carving scripture,

Each line a verse,

Each gasp a hymn.

Your breath floods

The hollows of my ear,

Hot, trembling,

Breaking my reason-

My head gallops 

Ahead of itself

And tries to bury me

In all your burrows in 

Search of the sweet

Sound of your moan.

I sense the sweat 

Of your armpit on

My fingers.

The meat of my

Manhood seeks a 

Refuge in your 

Feminine abode.

In the clash of sweat,

In the bite of skin,

We lose our names-

Man, woman, sinner, saint.

And when silence breaks,

It isn’t peace-

It’s the aftertaste

Of fire still smouldering

Between our hearts.

While feel you strongly 

Between my thighs.

May our love be lust

On steroids tonight.

Bomb it Terrorist

Gather your grief,

Put together a heap,

Bring in a bomb,

And blast it up.

Collect all the joyous 

Memories,

Prepare a molehill of 

Happiness,

And blast it up.

Pick up the anger,

The broken earphones,

Old diaries and the 

Person you are in the 

Mirror.

Conjure all the guilt,

Use it to cement 

The failed exams,

Burst cycle tires and 

Fever-ridden mornings.

Bomb it up and blast.

Let the shattered 

Pieces arise, smoke 

Gather around-

Cough, tears,

Cry it all out.

Move on like a terrorist 

After his job.

Don’t look back.

Be a bigot of the present.

Whore of thyself.

And overall, a kid.

Kid in Traffic

"If you wear the silver ring

And make a wish,

It would be realized."

Said the kid who was

Selling it in the traffic.

Selling dreams for ten rupees

Seems like a fraud.

But who are you to judge

The compulsions of 

His hunger?

But when you see the 

Same kid daily twice while 

You commute.

A familiarity grows.

Your feelings soften.

You consciously keep 

A ten-rupee note in the 

Shirt pocket one day to 

Readily give it away.

But you don’t see him 

The next day.

And for many days after that.

And weeks.

And eventually, when that 

Note goes away into your 

Next cigarette.

The smoke you vented-

For a brief while, you were

Concerned about 

How the kid must be 

Breathing the same air.

Slipping

You slip from dreams.

You slip from pics 

We forgot to take.

List of places we 

Should have been 

Exploring.

I try to hold on, but

You slip through 

The gaps in my 

Thoughts.

You slip from words,

Gasps and my

Frustrated sighs.

I built rooms of 

Silence to trap your echo,

But you slide past

My heart of glass.

You slip from prayers

And from curses alike.

Through unformed 

Memories, 

Half said goodbyes.

Soft silence and my

Thickened arrogance-

You slip till I can't

Recall your face.

You slip till your name

Becomes familiarly 

Strange.

A ripple on a lake

By a stone I once 

Threw, which 

Still manages to 

Reflect an image

That asks-

Alas! Stranger.

Didn't we once know?

Pound. Pound. Pound.

First, put on a layer.

Say that's for protection.

And that's okay.

Then another layer 

In the name of 

Social utility.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

A thick layer of concrete upon 

Both- Name it ethics, 

Morals, and idealism.

Then go on pounding 

Many layers -

Religion, language,

Culture, marriage,

Nationalism.

Till you grow out

Of your origins.

Then despise the

Nakedness. Despise 

The blunt truth. Despise 

Straightforward acts.

Rounds and rounds of

Lectures on sensitisation,

Sanitization and

Political correctness.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Till they can't look

In the eyes.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Till silence is virtue.

Till obedience is pride.

Till fear is renamed

Civility.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Till the body is no body,

Till the self is no self,

Till the living are

Half-dead statues applaud 

For standing still-

And walking dead.

Spells and Jinx

The petals blooming 

Out of thorns.

Fragrance beneath 

Those cement walls.

I've seen you mumble 

Hymns of love,

Behind the face of 

Your anger.

You're tough, 

You're soft.

A mountain that can

Protect a flicker-

And a flame that can 

Be fire to tame a

Mountain's rage.

And because I want

To be grounded

In your pragmatism 

And float away in 

Your reveries-

Here, have a rose.

And my heart,

And many reasons-

A snowflake to be

Molten your palms.

A dew drop wanting 

To be liberated by 

Your feet-

I'm a Muggle in awe

Of your spells.

Jinx me more,

I'm happy to be a

Subject of your magic.

Am I not a Desert yet?

I've buried the

Names I knew.

Friends turned to

Faint silhouettes,

Lips that once called

Are cobwebs now.

I've walked through

My hollow self.

A museum of

Forgotten laughs-

Broken vows pinned 

Like insects.

I've dried out of 

My rivers.

Emptied oceans.

Blocked all the light 

And bleached up

Colours.

I've blocked all

The echoes.

The den of my 

Thoughts is abode

Of bird droppings

That are crippled.

Dreams are lost.

Aspirations, doused.

Ambitions for what??

Everything is ash 

And dust.

A skeleton with

Scraped off flesh.

But where do all

The tears come from?

Am I not a 

Desert yet??

The floods still

Find me.

The corpse still

Weeps.

Bigot Again

Yet again, she turns

Her back.

And the thousand 

Poems you didn't write,

Find all possibilities

To happily rot.

But life goes on 

You know.

The many sunsets,

And winters.

The yellow stripped

Off the flowers,

And the fragrance.

You try to clutch 

Your chances.

But you find no anchor 

Whatsoever.

And the pyres in

Your chest,

Many funerals in

Your head and

A fancy for looking 

At the ships that 

Capsize, growing 

Into a happy fetish-

You thought you'd 

Find peace when

The last known place 

Of nostalgia would be

Razed to dust.

But an apocalypse

Has always been 

The start of a new 

Religion and you're

Condemned to a 

Bigot of love again.

Gasping act

I'll pin you to the wall 

and armourously 

Kiss your back.

l'll undo your saree in 

Haste and unbutton 

The blouse with 

My mouth.

I'll devour your lips and

Drown in your eyes.

Dive in your bosom and 

Be lost in your bottoms.

I'll savour you, 

Taste you and make you 

Mumble hymns of

Basic biology so deep...

You'll weave poetry

with your gasps and

Tune it with your moans.