Kavyakankshini...bewitching words spun with spindles of thought and quicksilver yarn...: 2008


A for Abhimanyu.........A for Ashwathama…

Wisdom bred within us

We learnt about the life’s battlefield

Well in the womb…

We learnt the best way

To enter a battle’s fray

We learnt every move

Every single groove

We learnt to watch our enemy,

That danger came from within

We learnt to conquer fear

And drink the potion of life

Sounds were vital

They may have a medley

Of the death’s knell

The bows and arrows helped

Archery coursed through our veins

Targets were always moral dilemmas

Of that even father couldn’t tell

The grasp was good for an unborn

Was all that  we can sum up

Stuck in there

Surrounded by suffering

Pain and assault

We knew not the way out

“Thou shalt enter

They will fight thee

Ye shalt attack from every angle

Break the maze thus…”

What next…

We are in the maze…

What next…

Why does memory fail?

Mother; let me enter your womb

I need to scrounge for the signs

For my way out…

Mother, this maze is overpowering

Do you least recall?

What next?

This maze is ours

We have entered with supreme will

Now we shall succumb to it

Now we shall use the wheel

Blows rained from everywhere

Where do I seek refuge?

Father; what is the next move

Can your knowledge be of use?

This is our maze….

Eternally it shall be

Like the wound on the forehead

Flowing endlessly

Why my forehead seems damp?

Why my fingers wet with warm blood?

It’s been lifetimes

Yet this wound is fresh


Learning life’s alphabets

A for Abhimanyu......

A for Ashwathama….






marks in a language

I feel

I feed

I do

I undo

I love

I move

I don’t

I want

You feel

You feed

You do

You undo

You love?

You move

You don’t

You want?

A few words too many

Importance of question marks..


Blind man’s buff…

Eyes closed…

Round and round

The hand turned me

Round and round

I kept counting my turns

To keep a track of directions

To know which way will I go?

Once the turning stops

And suddenly it stopped


Mid circle

I undid my tangled feet

And senses

Till I could put forth

My first step

I heard the cries

Each one calling me out

Each one probing and poking me

Cajoling me to come to them

There I stood

Faithful to darkness

Rather compelled into fidelity

Thought now I shall be right

As they say loyalty nurtures relations

Hence I began my journey with the darkness…


Two three

Four five six

I thought I reached out to someone

Suddenly it gave away

The place where I thought I had rested my hand

Three four

Five six

There I feel someone again

Suddenly I hear my name

I swirl around

Was it you?

It was a sing-a-song way

Of calling my name

Just like you do…

I take one step

But…I stumble

It’s not you…

Illusion perhaps

Now again the calling begins

I wander slowly

Arms wide, flailing…

Round and round

Further away from the chaos I went

Till I bumped into


I imagined it was you

Strangely enough

Fell my band which covered my eyes

It was him

The way I never wanted

Yet he was the catch

I won the game they said

While I wept for you

And cursed the cosmic game maker,

Who put me in the arms of a stranger…

With an allusion that I chose him….

Blind man… and the cosmic bluff…





Z plane

I have landed! never safely as usual but yes again down the dumps and am happy that I have finally come to acknowledge that this round of being Sisyphus is done…have successfully let the rock roll down…and well I put my foot willingly to get it crushed as well!!!

I thought only I could be such an emotional fool and genius at one go…now once you have left me I find the world at large is full of such! And especially this city where each one seems to fight his own lengthy battle, some acknowledge it and some don’t…

I feel the void, I once proclaimed I loved to be alone…I must have yelled at you one zillion times…leave me alone…and today what poetic justice…I am left all alone…

And this solitude is different, it doesn’t feed my soul, it doesn’t fuel my creativity and worse still it doesn’t care if am sick or not and whether I like the solitude or not…

My option to be alone is truncated and it’s now the only option that I am left with me….

My sensibilities have frozen…dead and well preserved….

How long did time pass? How far have the rivers of time and space flown? How many events and people and carcasses of ideas flow by me…I remain there on the shore totally untouched by all this…I lost so many things so many of them…trust went first, friendships few, relations many and realizations anew..


 I read what he wrote; I think he wrote with the blood of loneliness…with the intensity I knew was his…totally pure, phenomenal and animal like

I loved his aggression and his passion and was surprised to discover that he was the destination of my search…he was around always too close but that prevented me from seeing him objectively I guess…

He wrote about connections, he wrote about passion, his words flowed with dynamism and his music interlaced with the strains of raag marwa…sung deep in the nights in the womb of the day…

Then I saw him paint, just a stroke, but what grace what force I was almost aroused…to his being, his ability to create and his potency of being human…

Evolved is how I found him, nomad is what the world terms him and piya is what I would like to term him…

I sought him and was thrilled to have found myself in each facet of his creativity...in each angle of his solitude and every trace of his existence

He can’t be plotted on conventional graphs, he aint two dimensional, he has a life force!  his third dimension, his Z plane…

From where I plunged and fell into the very valley I pined for so long…

Losing the track of existence sometimes carries us to the purpose of existence….

I was totally lost with him. I discover afresh the reason of my journey...the sojourn I undertook centuries ago…

The spiritual journey which we began is now in its last stage…

It’s been centuries and I feel so familiar with his scorching look, his roughness and uncouthness that it still holds appeal, evokes a primal desire which I feared I had lost…

He got it back to me rekindled the fire within and I shall ensure to keep it burning all the time…

The fire that melts the hardest ego, that casts the softest principle and that fire that burns illusions of power and yet holds the potency to thrive life….

I shall be his…I shall keep by his side…lead his nomadic ways and love his wanderings…in losing ourselves we shall soon discover the joy of being…the primal need and energy that brings and keeps two beings from dying out…

I shall survive and keep the fires burning till he returns from one of his journeys in search of his being….






cracked smiles n songs

As I remember the times we spent for each others sake,
I just wonder now, was it love or was the feeling fake?
The misty blues, rainy hues and the gardens lush green,
Without you around everything is just not seen.
Giving up everything, just for your sake,
Is there anything, that you forgot to take?
Waiting up all the time besides the phone to ring,
Catching to the tunes of the songs we used to sing.
As my heart breaks, I try to fall asleep,
But still all our memories make me flip.
With everyday, the feeling for you gets tender,
And every moment, makes my love grow stronger.
I really couldn’t stand the pressure or the pain,
Not talking to or not seeing you, makes me go insane.
I really wished, I felt that we were still one,
do you remember, all the laughter and the fun?
Sharing my love to someone else is not my case,
So I hide my broken heart beneath a laughing face.

- adapted by Teju


Is baar nahin

Is baar nahin

Is baar jab woh choti si bachchi mere paas apni kharonch le kar aayegi
Main usey phoo phoo kar nahin behlaoonga
Panapney doonga uski tees ko
Is baar nahin

Is baar jab main chehron par dard likha dekhoonga
Nahin gaoonga geet peeda bhula dene wale
Dard ko risney doonga,utarney doonga andar gehrey
Is baar nahin

Is baar main na marham lagaoonga
Na hi uthaoonga rui ke phahey
Aur na hi kahoonga ki tum aankein band karlo,gardan udhar kar lo main dawa lagata hoon
Dekhney doonga sabko hum sabko khuley nangey ghaav
Is baar nahin

Is baar jab uljhaney dekhoonga,chatpatahat dekhoonga
Nahin daudoonga uljhee door lapetney
Uljhaney doonga jab tak ulajh sake
Is baar nahin

Is baar karm ka hawala de kar nahin uthaoonga auzaar
Nahin karoonga phir se ek nayee shuruaat
Nahin banoonga misaal ek karmyogi ki
Nahin aaney doonga zindagi ko aasani se patri par
Utarney doonga usey keechad main,tedhey medhey raston pe
Nahin sookhney doonga deewaron par laga khoon
Halka nahin padney doonga uska rang
Is baar nahin banney doonga usey itna laachaar
Ki paan ki peek aur khoon ka fark hi khatm ho jaye
Is baar nahin

Is baar ghawon ko dekhna hai
Gaur se
Thoda  lambe  wakt  tak
Kuch  faisley
Aur uskey baad hausley
Kahin toh shuruat karni hi hogi
Is baar yahi tay kiya hai

... Prasoon Joshi



silken bonds

If the mind is made up

And the night stayed up

Mix the lyrics of your life

With mine

If the melody is made up

And the words have come up

Sing the song of your life

With me

If the lines are played up

And the luck messed up

Cry out the pain

To me

If the hope is given up

And the rope burnt up

Take the thread which binds

You to me…




Sing the song of your heart

Till ears of my soul fill up with the melody

Of simplicity

Paint the dream of your eyes

Till the canvas of my palm

Is colorful enough to hide

My destiny

Pluck the flowers of love

Till my garden of solitude

Is blooming with the fragrance

Of your memories

Take my hand and lead me

Onto the ladder of uncertainty

Till the moon kisses me

Through the clouds…

Keep singing, keep painting

Till the hope in my voice

Echoes through you…




simple verse

Simple verse came late to me

Like spring in autumn’s medley

I thought you’d love to be…

The dream of my eyes, you could see

The string of your shoe binds me

To your shoe and to you

Dragging along like a ragged doll

Everywhere you took me

Bumping off my every dream

Song and the rainbow in me

On and on went on your song

Till my words were drowned in me

Abandoned on the shore

Today as you leave me

Though very late

But through heaven’s gate

Simple verse full of love

Just came to me…

dream meadows

Let’s share the bowls of breaths

You take a fistful

I’ll take a few

Breathe out the old

And breathe in the new

Lets crack open a few dreams

You take a fistful

I’ll take a few

Crack open the shell

And pop in a dream

Let’s plant the hope seeds

You take a fistful

I’ll take a few

Press in real deep

Let hope grow anew

Let’s play with the rainbow laces

You hold a fistful

I’ll pull a few

Tie them in your hair

And braid in the dew….


unpainted days

When you are with me

I close my eyes to the world

Your lips tell me then

The taste of your smile’s curl

When you are with me

I slip through the skin of me

Your touch tells me

The height of agony and ecstasy

When you are with me

I put my brush away

Your hands show me

That it’s next day….





Crafted out of ashes,

Sleek, grey and alluring

Shades of ebony and white

Long and strong

Swift and agile

Tampered with fire

And baptized by embers

Her claws were still burning

While her plummet was being modeled

Fiery golden eyes brimmed with purple patience

Nothingness of past lives had wizened her...

As the wind romanced and cajoled her virgin plumage

To lift off and soar in the skies

Her world, her ambit and her destiny

One final look

Out of the smoke and into the heavens

There she flew

Pulsating with heat

Her newly molten bones

Hallowed with energy

Clutched the winds

And thrust upon the skies

Her wings dusted with ashes...

One ultimate screech of victory

Over the mountains, over the plains

Over the seas, over the lakes

Conquering fears and complexes

Vanquishing doubts and piercing through convictions

She did what she knew best

She flew and she flew

Till memories of her burning self were extinguished

One moment she saw the Dnieper

The other moment she plunged

To drown the memories of lifetimes....

She rose to meet a new destiny

She soared and glided past elevated truths

She transcended the spheres of knowledge

She gained what she lost

And lost what she gained

An arduous journey she took...

She flew and she flew

Till she smelt the familiar

The real and the certain

Her plumage caught fire

Mid flight again

Death caught up with her

Burning and flying

Flying and burning

She flapped incessantly

Hoping to make it

Make it to the Baikal

She wanted to live

She wanted to extinguish the fire

Burning within her soul

Strange are the desires of the soul

To burn and be born

To be born to burn

The flame scorching her heart

Had other desires

Slowly scattering ashes

A being was being unmade

Bit by bit losing herself

Ego and all

She was burning

Burning bright

And flying right

Through her death

Her golden eyes

Reflected the deep Baikal

Now calm as the blues of Baikal

The purple passion faded out

Till the orange hues licked them

Slowly circling the mammoth lake

Scattering ashes she fell from the skies

Like a comet or a star maybe

But content that she won’t be born again

For the winds and water had devoured her past

Remnants of all her deeds and lifetimes

She made it

She broke the curse...

Of the phoenix....

To be born again out of ashes....






turning 25...

Well finally quarter of the century gone...and pray how do i feel???

Old? jaded?bored?or  rather tired?of living....

The circumstances in which i turned 25 were absolute perfect...i was at home!with parents and close friends and well still reliving the charm of birthdays at home!!!strange but true i was totally happy about the cakes and candles birthday, the aukskhan by mom and my my a house full of nishigandha!!!

The contemplation kept happening for quite a while...what is it all about?

living loving or something more?

What have i got in 25 years seems a selfish thought and what i gave in 25 years seems vain....

I began my research with the oldest method...comparison, with other 25 year olds... obvious subjects were by friends and colleagues, what is it that they have come to achieve at 25, what is it that i have come to achieve at 25 and finally am i happy with what i have achieved and are they all happy about themselves at this stage? What is the probable next stage of life? When next would be the ideal time to reflect about life and its purpose? Round and round i went till i came to a point that we all had in abundance, everything we pined for once upon a time...

At some point the comparison stopped, began looking at my own self...over the years...only to realize that i was indeed happy, rather should be...i have all that i wished for, once upon a time and more....i remember some of my diary pages stating my ideal salary at 25, ideal situations, ideal weight as well...today i have all of it, albeit a bit more...but then what am i doing? ruing about it all.....well that is the irony of life, we wish for certain things and when we have achieved them, we feel left out and out smarted by other circumstances....

I questioned myself...who am i? what is the purpose of my being? why am i still existing? and i am yet to find rational and acceptable answers to all these questions...One more question posed before me....did i forget something? the answer was yes!yes indeed! i had forgotten to be grateful! grateful for so many things that i had been taken for granted for my entire life! my fit body! my mind, my brain, my looks, my qualifications, my laptop, internet all all....the assumptions seem Marie Antoinette like if i really open my eyes to see the world of so many other 25 year olds....

On deeper delving i realized i had indeed changed in the past 5 years and so rapidly! the transition was scary at a point when i realized that certain changes were permanent and shall never be the same again....be it the time spent doing nothing at all, playing with clay or even simply trusting people about all they said and did...

Trust is eroding so fast i can hardly believe myself at times....

i feel distressed if i cant play with words for a while....

i feel bored without my dose of shopping...

i feel handicapped and marooned without cell phones and internet...

gosh...where am i heading?


then came a point..do i still enjoy poetry?nature?silence?

solitude?grace?tears?the written word?the unsaid emotion?

i calmed down a bit....

is the spark in my eyes still alive? do my eyes light up at the mere mention of interesting things?

well....do i still love flowers? do i find travel interesting? do i blush these days?

am i finding all these parameters trivial?

do hand written letters, greeting cards, notes light up my day?

do i still believe in dreams and their power to alter life?

yes.....i do...

dreams make life so very "live"able for me....

am yet to dig out the buried emotions, yet to replant the bushels of memories, spruce up the long forgotten bushes of friendship camaraderie and love...water it all with honest tears and well....shade it with innocence and faith in all good things of life...

if i don’t do it religiously, i realize i have very little left to pass on to the next generation, a legacy of hope, of love, of innocence, of faith and most importantly the power of dreams.....

what do honest words do to an expressing medium?

dilute the pleasure of spiced up gossip....

obscure yet mine...thoughts from the mind's mill... 



commercial sense

Your presence keeps interrupting
Like glossy commercials on TV
Cutting my stream of thoughts
Jutting out of my daily soap operas!
Now I think straight,
Suddenly you arrive flashing your designer smile
Comes to fore a profound thought,
There you are! Selling your kisses....
Some more ideas start breeding now
Germinating at a natural pace
Suddenly pops up your alluring face
I shall now shut you off my mind
Least I watch less of you!
But what’s a soap opera without
Gasps and suspense!!!
My thoughts are produced
Hence you remain...
My ultimate commercial drive...
Selling me my dream life
On mind’s TV


From you to nowhere
Am exploding into your being!
The half burnt moon
And stars from dinner
A cosmic treat we had!
Those galaxy tables!
And grey matter!!
Tomorrow, we’ll eat Jupiter!
Tasty it must be...
With so many moons there...
From you to nowhere...
The astral nothingness
Your hallow being
Is filled with my matter
The Sun of my soul!
Come hither, let’s create
Some fertile planet
This earth, lets recreate...

material maddness....

The heart is slightly naïve
Can’t really tell it
That the string of our dewdrop moments
Can’t be worn tonight
To adorn it at the ball of reality...
The mind is cracked a bit
Can’t really convince it
That the cinders from our passions
Can’t make Cinderella...
Her magic also lasts till midnight...
The being is madcap you see
Can’t really explain it
That the purple memories of your touch
Were from the camphor of time,
Left absolutely nothing behind...
My ‘me’ doesn’t know physics you see
Hey! So no Einstein and theory of relativity for me....


Sparkling purple memories
Fast fading away...
Your clear eyes
And moist lips
Seem so close
Yet far away....
I don’t want you in memories
I need you for real
Cause hugs can’t happen
Without your arms around me...


shedding light and beyond

The purple haze in the sky

Tinted with orange

Grey black blue

Fusing together

I just shed my skin

Can you feel me now?

All so nervous


and new?

twilight always does that to me

I am reborn at twilight....

the prodigal child.....

with hues of




and blue....


Question and an idea

Can i paint the door to your room?
I'll paint your nude!
Stand there and contemplate
Whether i want to see you dressed inside or naked outside....
Can i paint the lenght of your back?
I'll paint a tree bark!
Next time we make love
I can be the trembling creeper....
Can i paint the shirt you wore?
I'll paint me
Wait there and get jealous
Someone's clinging on to you....
Can i paint the floor of your studio?
I'll paint it purple
Black boot marks, yours,
And a galaxy of purple stars leading to my room....
Can i paint your intent face?
I'll paint a peach
Bite in the juiciest edge
Peaches with edges???
Seems a good idea....

just like that....

Every few seconds i try to think
Not of things or events
But names of babies
Born every few seconds
Their thoughts
Their poems
Which they must have carved
On the walls of the womb
Were they poems of love?
Or peace?
What strains of music accompany a life?
The second passes away...
Leaving stardust of unanswered questions...
Then the next few seconds are dimpled with another question
Am thinking about flowers
Their songs and dainty vanity
Their dialogues with the roots
Their colour and adventures with the most dandy butterfly!!!
Leaving behind a powdery hue...
The next second am thinking about Irish guys...
Their guitars and stubble
The romantic countryside
The accursed idyllic
Move on thoughts...
Move on....
Seconds punctuated with craziness.....
Ah living....



It’s the hurt fermenting within me...
That hurts the most...
It lay dormant for years on end...
Soaked in tears, blood, sweat and semen...
Drowned in all, since ages...
Affecting it, eroding it...corroding it
Replacing its fangs, its venom
With something even more lethal...
They crucified me on the cross of social obligation
They crowned me with infidelity
The barbs hurt just as much...
No easy crown it is...
And I couldn’t say,
“Forgive them almighty for they know not what they do...”
And then it began coursing through my veins...
The most obvious unilateral extension of hurt...
They mastered the art of bottling up my emotions,
They closed their moral fists around my freedom
Held me captive in my own vulnerabilities....
Uneasy love....
And I couldn’t say,
“Glory be in the bondages that thou hast gifted me”
and then it began filling my heart ...
self pity...
the worst manifestation of love...
They carved out their slabs of achievement and glory
They made a deity out of me
Circumambulated around my being...
Frozen into stone of responsibility and respect...
A heavy price for a pedestal...
And I couldn’t say,
“God of your dreams resides within my mortal cage”
and then it began rotting...
my ideas of self worth and existence...
Hurt kept manifesting...
Getting ruined in tears and fears...
Till the brew grew potent and dangerous...
Heady and challenging
A potion the witch threw out from her cauldron
Too useless to be magical,
Too charged to be evil...
Somewhere the fluid hissed its way into the earth...
Seeping, slithering and penetrating...
Leaving behind a few open eyes....
Full of pain, hurt
And longing.....


Sleep is stripped from my eyes...
Red, swollen and hallowed...
A thousand monsoons cried over...
A silence that is filled with responsibilities..
Of distance, respect and still
Of rage, agony and ecstasy...
I want to break free
The blue window pane is shattered....
Why does growing up be a stone???
A feel so much like a tree...
Rooted to monotony and obligations
The umbilical cord never quite severed...
Blood well really thicker...
Sensibility really thin...
Worn out and fatigued...
I want to die in your womb...
It was safer there....
I guess so...
I want to sleep, sleep... deeply and peacefully...
As sleep has been stripped from my eyes...


Kanha...when you left

The days were such that you left not to return
I was left just with shards of poetry piercing my memories
Days, good old days of laughter, mirth and tears
Tears of joy, tears of love and tears of the blue bangles
I broke...
You promised me green...
The green of the trees...
Of the grass where we lay...
That heaven of senses...
Your hand playing harp on my being
Every touch musical, every string resounding with ecstasy...
Now the opium of your touch
Feeds my imaginations...
Kills me slowly and leaves me empty...
Now green bangles don’t mingle with the rains,
Don’t tinkle with anticipation
Simply cling to my wrists,
Calmly submit to his touch and not even make a sound
My bangles have lost their tinkle
My poem has lost its lyrics
My monsoon has lost its green
My pale eyes mourn
The death of our togetherness
Alas am left with no more bangles to break
To shatter the myth of your being
And convince myself of the loss....


I sense you..so far...sitting across and intently gazing into my eyes...Osho says the chase is exciting...so we all get a thrill out of it...then it gets all monotonous...i simply couldn't outlive that monotony...n now they'll slit my throat...under anesthesia of course...how i wished you would be there holding my hand while i regain my senses..mutter you name...so very filmy nah!!!but i actually want you to be there....
Wishing one moment you would do the honours...one moment silent and one moment not being able to live with the thought that someone's gonna hurt me...so what even if its for my good...
You always want to protect me...dont you??
why does you gaze have to be so intense always???
just like my prince charming...
Get me nishigandha in the hospital....
I want you to see the delight in my eyes when i see those colourless flowers...tuberoses!!!i bet you would never know!!!
That i love flowers generally...and you bringing them to me especially.....
Will you donate blood? There are more like me...
I need you
I need your blood
I need your being...
and maybe that boredom of yours that drove us apart!!!
To be a predator and act prey!!!
Pray why????


P for Pain

Pain?Any takers?
Any takers?
Well addiction of pain?
Imagine pain, lots of pain...yet you want more...
A craving you cant overcome...
Slowly it drills into your being...
Bit by bit... blowing off those tiny shards of being...
Replacing it by some alien fluid you thought was yours..
There it fuses so brilliantly with black..the newly sprung droplet of blood..
Suddenly it’s a tiny string of droplets..of blood...
Wish could string them n wear them..they’d go best with my latest designer dress...
Now you have more..more of those perfectly formed droplets...
So marveled they are by their being that they forget their discipline...
Their duty..to spring forth and ooze out...
Now there is more drilling...
The mechanical sound fills my ears...
A long forgotten memory from the distant future...
A skilled cosmic dentist clearing plaque from the jaws of Uncertainity...
Making them sharper and more poised for the job...
Now they snap!!!now they nip!
How they grab and rip!
More droplets...now streams...
Pain...more pain
The most testing moment...
Radical and bare
Too true to be analyzed...
Just worth the experience
There filled all the cavities
With colour, with thorns
Jesus must have been a adept lover..
Of her....
Pain....how she torments...
How she lusts and seduces...
Ah Pain...
Now the drill is replaced...
Its needles now...
Warm and moist with blood..
Fresh and flowing....
Like the Nile....
Or the Volga...
Full of blood of patriots and poets...
Of tears and wasted sweat...
But nothing like the Ganga...
Pain is not as pure as her...
She is more sinful
Just like a delicious chocolate cake...
Sinfully alluring and inviting...
More of her....
There now it gains
A final delightful shape...
A rose
Without thorns
How endearing...
How enduring...
A high greater than nicotine and grass
A phase that I just don’t want to pass....



The more i plunge in myself
The more stuck I get,
to my own being...
It's like falling in a huge glue tub
It sticks to you, in tiny strings
small filaments and
tacky little fibres....
The more i try coming out
It extends and stretches
All across my being
Why so many bonds?
So much adhesion
So much connection
To a self that dies
Every moment
To a new self born,
Every moment
Stuck unstuck
Every relation
Stuck unstuck
My two fingers...
Stuck unstuck
My two beings
Stuck unstuck...


Russian love....

Flakes all over
Flakes over the bridge
Covering every road
Covering every ridge
The frost on my lips
Melts with your breath
Your icy fingers singe my skin
Passion seems to ripple
Beneath the frozen river
Draw me close
Draw me near
Oh dear snowman...
Now your kiss is burning
Now your lips sear....
For a dear friend...whom I dare not even dream to lose....

What should I say?
I feel the vacuum,
Can touch it if I stretch my hand...
Don’t yell, don’t cry,
Your name has dried on my lips
Before it reached you...
The bells chime,
It’s about time,
That without memories,
I left you...
Lonely planet
And its single song...
So long my dear...
So long...


This one seems strange to be placed here yet i dare post it...
Somehow its a tale of a couple who parted ways n met again once...this is what the lady had to say to him....
actually the poem has obvious references to a lot of imagery from various sources...some very clear some opaque...but yeah i loved the imagery,its vividness and so it came to me as if it were mine.....
Grey hair suits you better
Those crow feet make you more handsome
Those droopy eyes behind rimmed glasses appeal me still
You have grown sexy with age....
Now, I like you better
A life fully lived...
Burnt in the sun of time
Reborn in the nights of destiny
Remember the days of yore?
Your bare back was my canvas
Your every t-shirt had a hole
For me to sneak a peak
At your ever imploring mole...
Our garden had more cactus
For jasmine had lost its fragrance
Our hands were full of sunbeams
We caught in our bedroom,
Pillows were cages of feathers
Ready to escape with every fight
All our bed linen
Was any color but white
Most of my bookmarks
Were feathers and leaves
From the unhurried lanes of time
When poetry suited you better
Than faded kurtas
And torn jeans seemed so classic
When I ripped them at the shin ....
Bangles seemed to talk
About my every thought
Each anklet told you
About my secret sojourns
Past your house and window
Every pillow was scented
With tears, sweat and semen
And my bridal blanket
With a droplet from my hymen...
Cluttered in our tiny existence
Came the silly weather....
Made me blue n grey for you...
Till despair drove us apart....
Today all I ask
At the dusk of life
Can we ever start
A new story of faith?
Can we be together?
Cause I feel today...
That grey hair suit you better.....


Barasana maiden's love song....

Call me call me oh dear
Call me for I fear
My name shall never raise
Waves of emotion
In the sea of your heart
Call me call me oh dear
I shall come rushing forth
Gushing from a primal force
Gathering momentum once
Losing it to mere pebbles
As my feet bleed
Call me call me oh dear
It’s my longest journey
From within me to without you
From a lover to a pilgrim
As I transform
Call me call me oh dear
Be my God and beckon me
Recollect our bonds and reckon me
Let the peacock feathers remind you
Our early monsoon delights
And all our parting fear
Call me call me oh dear
Those days of twilight tidings
Of kisses you sealed on my breast
Of your tears I held in my nest
Of my feet on the grass
And your snakelike slither...
Call me call me oh dear
Let me end my journey
At the doorstep of your temple
Let my thirsty eyes
Quench at your sight
Let my wretched soul
Purify in your waters
Oh Gopala, my beloved,
Call me call me oh dear
A pilgrim calls
A lover wails
To fate I adhere
Call me call my dear......

Your mother....the.....

“The succulent sweetness of Urdu poetry
The eternally glorified separation of Laila Majnu
The epitomized epitaph inscribed on the winds, belongs to Mastani
The crystallized tears of Umrao Jaan Ada
The by lanes of Lucknow with latticed tales of love and the economics of love
The sole lamp lit in the courtyard, gracing her vacant sky
The fleeting charm from her eyes, tired and dried up
The empty, wretched womanhood, exploited for infinite moons
The crumpled gajras and bedspreads, wads of notes lying around
The slimy grin on her bastard’s face; he too had his noons
The vacant stare into the future, too bleak to be sympathized
Yet, too poetic to be buried in earth, for poetry shall burst forth...”
That’s why my child,
the gulmohur on your mother’s grave is ever in ecstatic bloom....
Your mother...
The prostitute....


i have worn garlands

of lonliness around my neck

i have adorned my hair

with fragrant flowers of your memory

i have decked up

with silks of our whisperings

i have worn anklets

of our tinkling laughter

i am the apsara

i am the abhisarika

i am the yakshini

who has a question;

even fate cannot answer...

"who made me a woman?

and filled poetry in my heart?"


a thought tossed forth...

The current education system cannot stop riddling me...
A total blast out of no where kinda topic this i know...but jus bothering me...
The conventional 10+2 n then arts science commerce..the rigmarole..Entrances, tests, classes...n fight for decimals..we have started taking 90% for granted....
Coaching classes and their bright students!!! wow!then parents boasting about these kids in every possible place...
Poof and comes the time to don the graduation garb followed by PG in US or placement in a brilliant MNC!!!life now seems so complete na...
well then the time comes where atleast a few of us realise..we didnt really learn what is necessary or what we learnt is not at all useful...we need more, we need something different and we need to fill in a lot of stop gaps to actually stop ourselves from sinking in this abyss of reality!!!
well what went wrong?where?
I too faced similar questions, confronted them and realised a few things..just thoughts but i think they should be provoking enough...
Our entire system of education makes us go through a maze of exams and tests for subjects we hardly use in our day to day lives..and till the time we are 15 we are yet to realise where to we are heading, most of us are still at the same question even after 10 more years...
What we essentially lack is the inclusion of vocational subjects with equivalent status in our curriculum!maybe some of the students might be able to identify their interests earlier in life...
The competition for marks will sizably reduce, there would be a better clarity in the student's mind about his/her ability and aptitude, also a great amount of confidence and positive stress free approach towards higher education in the same field or aligned field of interest...Also there would be greater avenues for those who preferred to climb the academic ladder for the sheer intellectual pleasure of it all...
The entire social strata would be much more harmonious if there were multiple outlets or exit points for students from this maze of education, also multiple entry points for selective higher education.
Higher and concentrated exposure in the subject of interest would make the pupil more absorbed and sincere in the task at hand, thus we can imagine the kind of satisfied work force we shall have if each one has found a vocation of his/her own choice.
The second point is more relevant and not as much radical, we have various hard core vocational courses, engineering, architecture, hotel management etc, also other non vocational ones like arts, commerce etc...we all accept these conventional careers which are a natural outcome of the educational qualifications we gain. But then again we are looking for the unconventional careers which do not toe the line...be it being a DJ or RJ or maybe a copy writer, a model or an avid biker...a consistant amount of people do keep falling in this category, but what about the rest???
Cant we think up of something innovative?Cant we simply add a dash of creativity to the entire educational set up?
Cant we have creative engineers?creative doctors?well am not talking about engineers and doctors who have pursued theatre, painting or writing alongwith their professions, but about the essential creative approach towards their own profession, vocation?
Why do we need to learn this approach from a maverick?Why cant the syllabus be more flexible enough to accomodate a wayword thought process?why does sickness and its healing have to be the principle concern for doctors?why cant wellness be the concern?why do motors and routers and switches operate only on useful machines?why cant we have someone thinking up of engineering interesting toys or even building interesting structures for the generations to come?
Why poetry needs to be marginalised to slim volumes and part time poets?why cant the society celebrate the wordsmith?
why cant engineering concepts relate to various mythological or cultural phenomenon?why ram setu is a point of political dispute why not a subject for our civil engineers?
why is the tribal medicine totally shunned we might use the crude wisdom to treat many a modern day malaise....why is indian english just slotted as wrong or used liberally to amuse the ivory tower inhabitants?why not celebrate the indianisation of the language?
why cant universities stop being factories producing moron like graduates from every field, en masse...why cant we not have a creative or rational bachelor /master of commerce or arts or engineering or medicine???
not that the word can be justifiably used or even the level of creativity or rationality be tested and graded, just that innovation and evolution should be taught as a continuous ongoing process of education.
I really feel that being educated is one thing and being aware is another thing altogether...
Why cant we have interdisciplinary studies?maybe the buzz of the motor sets a tune in the mind of the engineer...he might compose a piece of music...connecting him/her on a very different plane with his/her vocation...
The approach might just sound abrupt, half cooked but the germ is genuine...
Come to think of more creatively liberated people, we definately will have more harmony in the society at large....
lets dream more..about changing the setup and lets get out our paint brushes of action and paint a brand new reality for ourselves!!!


what do you do when a touch leaves you empty?
what do you do when a sentence leaves you untouched?
what do you do when leaves scatter autumn poems only to be swept up n burnt?
what do you do when fantasies haunt the real life?
what do you do when illusions promise you a better company?

i break apart...

each touch and memories of each touch...

mercury almost...flowing away untouched...

the flow beyond words...untouched by expression....

each expression piled n burned...

till ashes of creativity remained...

blown away to the far away Ganges of innocence...long polluted yet flowing.....

flowing n carrying carcasses of illusions..of aspirations and maybe even the dream lover....

all sailing along...down the sea of uncertainity and mindless depth...

only to be churned...thrashed by the waves and unmade by the currents....

thrown on the sea floor with rusted n chainless anchors for company....

sharks of the times when they ruled roost...

mobile roots of many a titanic....

and some opened n broken oyster pairs....

long lost eyes of the eternal lover...

who gave up his beloved to bejewel the harem....

incomplete stories with strains of music, sorrow and quest

for completion.....for the touch so complete....



what do you do when a touch leaves you empty?

what do you do when a sentence leaves you untouched?

what do you do when leaves scatter autumn poems only to be swept up n burnt?

what do you do when fantasies haunt the real life?

what do you do when illusions promise you a better company?


to be contd......


i grew up with you touch....

I remember fondling your breasts,
I remember clutching on to them
I remember your bosom was my world,
My Sun and the Moon...
Mother, I grew up with your touch!
I remember touching your fingers,
I remember kissing each one of them,
I remember your arms so strong and able
My unflailing support...
Father, I grew up with your touch!
I remember grinning at your bottom,
I remember noticing the difference, you a boy! i gasped almost! where is the hole gone?
I remember matching my dimples with those on your bum,
My sweet childhood mate....
Brother, kiddo...I grew up with your touch!
I remember you fondling my breasts,
I remember kissing your fingers
I remember we checking out the dimples on our baby's bottom
My dear....
Husband, I grew up with your touch!

when was the last time...

Writing diaries is as old as the rebelling harmones in me....
now comes a new way of putting across thoughts...
flinging them fast...far and wide in the galaxy of bytes,bits and god knows what all....
in this viscious circle of "i dont have time so i dont write" and "i dont write as i have no time" crazier gets the race sillier the running and hazier the opponents....
why run the race?why be a rat?
cliched sounded ideas so i deserted them till i became too cliched for ideas to come to me....
now i write again...its almost like having spasms...attacks..attacks of creativity..attacks of identity crises...attacks of superiority complex...attacks of non being....
so now ideas and words spurt forth...like mustard sauce sitting adamant in a bottle in a dingy pizza parlour...
slow slow n slowly they'll come..
now now shall it pour forth...
out of cracks on the plastered ego walls...out of the crumbling principle towers...out of the torn fabric of lonliness...out of the freshly cemented relationship...
woes? bygone times?suppressed emotions?fear of the forests dwelling within...
what all shall they describe?
maybe jus that all is not well in the spaces of void...all is not well in the city of thoughts, all is not well in the lighthouse of ambition...all is not well at the horizon of being...
the entity is losing light...the eyes have darkened with the shadows of failure and the brain?she has surrendered to insanity...
these pools of misery are filled with mists of confusion and haze of indecision...
let the light of optimism visit my valley..
let the words bloom in their full granduer and glory...