How they arrived.
Making no sound
like drifting or more like floating.

I was on a train to a land
long forgotten by me.
A land of memories.

I looked past the rushing trees,
the blurring greens.
I looked at the barren fields.

And then they came.
Rushing at me in their
silent clamour .

I was knocked out of breath.
My vision empty
but my insides full, my heart.

I sunk in their eyes,
and saw every fantasy of mine.
They dripped.

Each of them turned into
a giant teardrop containing my thought.
And they dripped and PLOP!

On the ground I saw them falling,
I saw them leaking and breaking
into a million pieces.

And I could do nothing.
The secrets were out
they knew it all.

And no one knew anything.

एक और कहानी

उस कमरे में एक अरसे से रात ठहरी थी

वो कही नहीं जाती

बस वहीं एक कोने में सिमट के पड़ी थी

बिखरी सी सिमटी थी

माँ जैसे करीने से कपड़ो की तह लगाती थी

वैसे ही उसका आँचल पड़ा था

रात का आँचल ओढ़े वो रौशनी की सेंध लगाती थी

एक अरसे से रौशनी को ढूंढते

उसने उस ठहरी रात से दोस्ती कर ली ।


She lays there
her lids shut.
A pink tinge
on her cheeks.
A mystic smile
playing her lips.
I look at her long
and wonder long
Is this what contentment is?
What does it feel like?
I know not what
she hides.
What dream goes on
behind her eyes?
I have been running,
searching, digging,
trying to find this peace
that she wraps around her
and sleeps.
She walked miles,
crossed oceans,
climbed mountains,
and came back empty.
Her hands empty,
she gave it all.
Her heart empty,
she poured it all.
Her eyes empty,
all tears gone.
And yet she seems
Brimming, not overflowing
with peace, she claims,
shall remain unruffled.
Its her gift, she says,
for giving it all.
Her peace, her soothe.
I look at her
while she talks
I see her words
I hear them not
I drown in her eyes
in search of her soul
only to realise
she is no more a body
she is now wholly
her soul.
I have lost mine
I need to find.
I look at her long
and wonder long
she is lost
unable to be found
is this what contentment is?

Life… as we know it

and at times you have to satisfy yourself with the fact that even though it got over, it did happen.

that they lived every second they were given and touched the sky every chance they had.

The day will grow on you
so will your shadows

the person you meet at the end is you.

Few words will remain unsaid,
few will be written but may never see the light of the day,
and rest will be wasted

in the end, everything is overcome and a life is lived.

PS: Lines 2,4 and 6 are by Mr. Irfan Kazi. Many thanks to him for making it so beautiful.


i see them moving
running, walking
but they don’t see me
they ignore me
they leave me and walk away
they change their colors
they laugh when i cry
they mock
they jest at my
expressionless face
they, who bear no face
of their own.

Verses of Love

Love – I

Soft knocks on the window glass.
Rustle of leaves on moonlit night.
Prowling thieves.
Stealing glances, kisses and hearts.

Love – II

Tears tracing breathless blushes.
Phone calls, instant messages.
Empty arms, overwhelmed hearts.
Hope, the lone support.

Love – III

Promises of eternity said.
Unsaid concerns and care.
Written songs and poetry.
Those tiny lusty ones refrained

waiting room

its a room.

a room filled with sepia light

a door from which I came in

a darkness from which I came out

there is another door

a door which will lead me out

a door leading me into light

till then i am here

in this room

my life now

the waiting room of my life


Write! I Pray

Dont leave me
But for you I have no meaning
I simply exist
You are the one to make me alive
I yearn your touch
Your fingers on my skin
the harmony of heavens they play
like strumming a the strings
in tune with your feel
you touch me, my soul
look how their ridges blend with mine
so perfect
The stains n taints you give
they are my prize
dont leave me and go
for without you I am blank
nothing but chafing white
blank, numb and mute
you give me words
you give me colors
you give me days
you give me life
come ink me
fulfill the sole urge
of this blank paper.

The Porcelain Doll

Matted white skin,
rose blush pink cheeks,
crimson lips,
shiny black hair,
flawless smile,
patchless dress.
She was once all of this.

People swooned around,
Praises bloomed,
Flashes glared
capturing her face.
Handsome happy lives,
proposed to be their wife
She smiled merrily
blushed fervently
the same all the time.

Then she fell,
down to the ground,
scratched scathe
tarnished taint.
Tattered to crumbs
badgered to pieces.
Hollowness revealed
echoing the silent screams.

No more the sunshine,
no light pierced the dark.
she now lies
in a corner like trash.
Discarded, forgotten,
no more the subject
of pride show for guests,
no more the piece of beauty
like that of a shiny past.


Cut me,
let the blood drip.
One, two, three drops,
each with a story
of its own.

I don’t own them,
they belong not to me,
but to the guts
of the one that
took my bullet to his head.

It smells of her
to whose courage
was I a witness
the dark skinned
dame that got despoiled.

They no more live,
burnt they are;
their brown tones
charred to the soil
the same red murk.

Of fair lines I am,
despicably white
cut me deep
and open me wide
and speak of what you find;

do not beguile
for every soul knows
it is the same;
not brown, not fair,
but red.