Ray of Hope

The words have decided 

To abscond from the 

Pages of my diary.

The photographs have

Decided to fade away from 

The old albums.

An invisible hand holds

The face of all the memories 

Against a wall and rubs it up

Till the skin comes off.

What's left is a white blanket 

Of salt- sour and saline.

But despite the douse 

And despite the dusk.

Something inside makes

A strong appeal for 

Resurgence.

Who's there? It asks.

Who's there?

And there's a subtle 

Knock from the other side.

And that seems enough.

It's someone's presence

That challenges the 

The stink of inevitable..

Like fragrance.

Like a single breath is 

Mightier than death.

A thought of you beats 

The shit out of oblivion.

Two Emotions

If you laugh when you 

Badly wanna cry.

Is it still sadness?

And sink within when you

Really wanna laugh it out. 

It's still happiness?

And when you cry so

Hard sometimes.

Your tears flowing down

Your nose.

Mixing with the nasal

Fluid and finding 

Way to your mouth.

The salty taste that

Invokes mother's 

Brutal beatings from

Your childhood...

The silent laugh from 

Your eyes that doesn't 

Translate on your lips-

What do you call it?

This gap in your 

Language that can't 

Handle two emotions 

At once.

What do you call it?

Soot

Fed up, ashamed.
Feeling gross about
What I've written in my
Diaries all these years..

Decided to burn them
Page by Page.

There goes 3rd December
Of 2015 and 28th Feb of
Another leap year of
The past decade.

Faces of people I almost
Recognize along with
The fade of my own.
Words turning into flares..

Erasing them line by line,
Soot rising in the air.
Seemed I was a blank slate
For a while.

Shortly it rains.

Water-soaked char of
Memories clogging drains
And stinking. Seeping in
Dreams and haunting to

Remind me how I can't
Escape the past. How flushed
Memories can turn into ash,
And force you to cough.

Adulthood

The older you get,

The less you cry.

You just learn to handle 

The pain well, with time.

Hide hit, mold it or 

Forget-

Whatever it takes to

Push back the tears.

The skilled carpenters 

We are with our 

Hammers and the nails-

Agile to thump back 

Every drop with no fear

Of damaging the eyes,

Or hearts.

Nails stuck all over the 

Face, a wooden mask

Always in work,

All through life.

The kid within us we

Tried to love. We abused 

Him eventually.

We're our own pedos.

Adulthood really is just a

Funeral where everyone 

Laughs at each other's 

Progressive demise.

One Last Hunt

The storm in your chest is a

Caged animal, waiting for 

That one last hunt.

Poised on front foot,

Body weight shifted to rear.

Ready to jump as soon as

You open your gates.

But you're afraid of the 

Turbulence aren't you?

Second guessing your ability to

Bear lightening and thunder?

To protect the flicker of

Light that you haven't lit yet,

You go all lengths to contain 

The storm inside..

And the darkness in your 

Life and winter in your legs.

The animal you are, wanting 

That one final hunt..

But you were afraid of the

Taking chances all your life,

And you wonder how you 

Starved yourself to death.

Lost Decade

Tell me forgotten friend,

About the decade we lost.

Tell me about the weather 

Of far-off places and of

The same place when 

We were far off.

Do other people sound 

The same? Does the movie 

Experience with others

Get better?

Did you buy a PlayStation 

To play with your roommate?

Or started together a

Business?

The beer didn't taste 

The same for me. 

The pillion of my bike 

Remained forever empty.

I lost interest in the video 

Games. Even my girl left

Me as she couldn't fill up

The void you left.

A pitcher forever waits for 

You in beside a half-plate 

Biryani, in every bar I visit.

Tell me if you miss me

The same. Tell me if there 

Are chances to amend.

Tell me if there's hope.

Tell me if we can meet again-

To bike around in the mountains.

Eat, laugh and bitch about 

People in different places,

Like we always did. 

Missed Diwali

How was it this time?
I asked my brother after
Missing Diwali for years.
He said-

The cousin with the funny
Nose had come and we
Made hot-air-balloons like
We did as children.

Grandma took charge of
Of the kitchen to prepare
Her signature once-in-a-year
Vermicelli dish.

Mom planned an elaborate
Rangoli- I helped her fill
The colours - she teared up
While she put your name
In the bottom.

Dad of course was
Grumpy all morning.

He did test everyone's
Patience yesterday evening
While he made all of us
Clean the house.

By 11 am today when
Everyone gathered to offer
Flowers to your photo.
Dad broke down for the
First time in three years.

I haven't cried it out yet.
And I've stopped bursting
Crackers. And just like
The future ones would-

This Diwali was grand too
In your memory.

Pessimism

Standing alone at the balcony

With a cigarette. Ashtray on

The railings. Peeking hesitantly 

At the window of the apartment 

Infront of you-

A family having dinner with 

Elders and kids.

You don't even recall what's it

Like to have a partner now.

Been years since your wife passed.

And you're not sure if you deserve 

Love again this late in life.

This woman you've fallen in love,

Twenty years younger.

The long letters you write her

And tone down before sending.

Why can't you meet her despite 

Her insistence?

So used to driving your broken

Car that when the mechanic 

In a distant road offers to fix it-

You let it pass. 

So afraid of another breakdown 

After getting it fixed-

You're weary of hope invading 

The cucoon of your comfort. 

So you carry your ruins on your 

Back to tell yourself that the light 

At the end of the tunnel is another 

Train coming to crash your life.

Pretty neat pessimism to avoid 

Conflict in life.

Pickles

I had to accompany you that day.

You forced me in fact, saying

You want me to accompany you

Till your hostel in another city.

As we sat giggling and talking,

Our faces so close- I could feel

Your breath and the brush of 

Your hair on my cheeks.

It could have been a kiss.

But I wasn't ready for something 

Like that - consciously maintaining 

A distance, freeing my hand

From your clutch-

Did I have an aversion to touch?

Beats me. I've let go of too many 

Could have been and would 

Have been moments like that.

These incomplete moments,

That swell in my veins now-

Ready to blast. But for what?

Fresh flowers as homage to

Graveyards in my heart?

And what should I do with

This fragrance of regrets?

Preserve it in another bottle 

Of brine? - Pickles to taste again,

In the future when I 

Reminisce about these lost 

Moments because I overthought 

About the consequences?

Ripping it

That morning I turned myself 

Into a butcher, to chop flesh

Of my memories as pieces of

Songs I've been in love.

The bloody hassle down this

Nostalgic path to find you 

The best songs- to curate you 

The best playlist 

It's hard not to expect you

Yap about the music and

Scream about it from a 

High tower of your city.

But I gotta keep my expectations 

Low you know? I always get 

Ahead of myself in these things.

Only to sit and wait for others to 

Catch up. Then regret and 

Curse myself in frustration.

For hopping on such a journey 

To begin with.

This euphoria fails to subside,

But when it does my eyes hurt 

And my head blurs as if I'm in a 

Caffeine withdrawal.

This strange attitude of mine 

To feel deeply. Outlive four-five

Oceans despite knowing,

A mere drop is our reality..

It comes with a cost. 

Goes on leaving its marks.

I attach myself deeply and

That's why, feel betrayed easily.

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.

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.

Closure

The bruises stay,

The soreness in the throat 

Itchingly remains.

The tears that didn't 

Come out, they never 

Go away.

The flowers you once

Preserved in the book,

Seems to have left stains.

Closure is an ancient 

Myth. 

A redundant Deity 

In the third street of 

My village.

Your mind plays tricks like

An excavator often and 

The worship that ought to 

Stay Buried comes out 

In the open.

Demanding you to 

Pray and prostrate.

Cage

Till one day- the bird
That leaves decides
To never return.

This emptiness after
She leaves. Every song
That goes unanswered.

And the urge to sing
That dries here-

Somewhere every cage
Was a home once.
A good host. A rib.

Then the music sinks.
Breathing stops.
The fragrance dies.

The skeleton of the
Flower still stands stout.
But for what?

October

October comes scratching 

Some buried graveyards.

Glimpses of forgotten face,

Traces of a path to an

Abandoned place.

Smoke from the ruins of

A house lost to a deluge.

Bday of a close friend whom

You don't want to wish.

Your own teenage self that

Seems distant..

The child in you who's not

Ready for the incoming 

Winter..

You sit counting the falling 

Leaves of the almond tree

In front of your home.

The hope that someone 

Would come along to paint

That last leaf-

The cynicism of adulthood 

Gets the best of you, and 

Those who came along were

More interested in gathering 

Your ruins to 

Warm themselves first by

Burning the fallen leaves.

Unchanged Odds

In a world where they
Ask the right questions in
The wrong time and the wrong
Ones at the right time.

I ask the right question
At the right time and
You don't agree to meet
Me over a coffee.

So I shift to a world where
Things are reversed.
To ask you the right questions
At the wrong time and

The wrong question at
A right time. Only to get
Rejected twice.

And in a world where
The questions and the
Answers are banned.
I bottle my emotions to
Sell them in your street.

For years no one buys
Anything. At the distal
End of an apocalypse.
When everyone starved,

And thirsty for love.
I sought you thinking,
You might need something.
Even then you chose to be

A vile bitch, who thought
She could figure it all out,
But ended up dying of
Dehydration by a creek.

Love is Blind

Love me like a madhouse that
Hates that one sane person,
Who thinks we're just statistics
Of a sample size.

Love me like a thief who stood
Still for the national anthem,
Than figuring out his escape
In time.

The madness and passion
Crossing that fine line of
Sanity.. I tried to love you like
A drunkard, high on stories.

But you forgot our beginnings
And the end. Crumpled what was
There in the middle saying
You didn't know how to stab..

Then you did.

I bleed holding your name in
My mouth and a knife in the back.
A laugh in my heart and a prayer..
That chants, love me like a

Tormenter who loves her whips,
And the sheep that sang praises
For his butcher before succumbing
To the itch of his stomach.

Sins

The first time I saw the sea,

Set foot against the incoming 

Wave that washed my feet-

I didn't know until the freshness 

Hit me that I too had sins

That needed to be cleaned.

When the waves touch me

To recede. Constantly inviting

Me to erase my footprints,

That lead upto the castle of  

Humiliation and defeat. 

I comply. But not fully.

I manage to preserve that

One footprint, which only 

I could see. An untouched sin..

More like a memory. A hole

In my Soul that needs my

Body to make it complete..

The need for an immoral act,

To keep the prayers alive

And have this life going.

Ajar

Sticking a foot at the door,
A story stands.
Not ready to come in.
Not ready to go away for good.

Life has been ajar this way.

The words that want to go out
Get caught in the wheez of
A bad cough.

The ones that wish to come in
Hitch to the juicy affairs of
The wind to fly away.

The roads always take long detours
Before reaching a place. Exhausted,
You ask 'What's the point?'

The many letters you wrote,
Invisible was the ink and
The one they were addressed to

Never believed in the silence
That could speak.

Too Much Self-awareness

You self-diagnose your symptoms
And you think you're in a depression.
Then far-fetch the counterfactuals
To hit the edge of deniability.

You're hesitant to talk about it to
The only friend you've got.
You fear losing him and avoid a
Good cry that could reset your mind.

Worried about the weight, worried
About your face- your personality
Seems a fuck up and you think you're not
Worthy of even the things you deserve.

However much you try to occupy
Your mind, the emptiness shrills
Against the incoming wind like it's
A shell of conc on a beach.

Waves crashing hard on your shores,
And you giving away a slice of sanity
To each slosh.
You thought you had strong shoulders

But too much self-awareness, acts
For your own peril. Mind seems to
Have become an unbearable rock
That wants you to perish.