Drowning in the gush of tears,
we survive with our morbid fears.
While the nights seem long,
The days look busy.
Busy with the world’s presence,
We forget the mournful night.

Missing the faces that we had seen;
Promising a return to the anxious voices on the phone;
Bidding muffled farewells to the loved ones;
Waiting for the hour to strike away.

Looking at the clock expectantly,
Wishing for the day to end,
Hoping for a new morn.

A morn filled with the chirping of the birds
and not the dewy silence of mourning.

Ocean of thoughts

Trapped in an ocean of thoughts,
I dive and float.
Trying to stay afloat
I fail to fight all the time.
The waters of my fear sweep me away:
I cry for help…
But alas,
All in vain.
I am the lonely surfer.
Born to love alone, and suffer alone.
I thrive on love and shrink from death,
I bleed ink to survive on lyrics–
color my pallette with the finest of red,
but find my self stranded in shrouds of
Black or White;
sing of endings in high notes,
but shrink from it at the finale.
Fretting , strutting, and finally giving away,
I now look forward to a new day.

Dark Lament

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Under the blanket of night,
The sun is sound asleep.
The birds return to their nest and
The trees rustle a lullaby.
Darkness hushes the din of the day
While the swallows twitter away.
The night reigns…
The silent queen that usurps the world of sun.
A partner of brazen dreams,
A mother to orphaned desires…
A soother of troubled soul and a
Nightmare to the guilty and liars.
It whispers a language…
Known and yet unknown..
It sings a song with the saddest of notes,
Lamenting the inevitable end.


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Each day a scream builds in my throat,
My throat clenched, my jaw stretched…
But nothing comes out.
I again sit dejected and silent.
The wave of silence engulfs me…
Surviving, but am on the verge of falling into the void.
I yearn to scream, to shout,
But fail.
Is this life?
A posture of a scream but without a noise.
A music of death which builds but is bereft of notes.
A dance of breath… But with fleeting steps.
An endless labyrinth of agony…
Where the happiest moments are touched by the silence of sadness,
Where happiness dies the minute it is born.
Where moments flee away… Leaving behind endless sobs and muffled cries.
Tears die a vacuous death, leaving behind empty eyes.
It is with these empty eyes that I look around… A world so bleak and unknown,
That I return towards the gut clenching silence,
Which is now my true home.

Shame’s Cold

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The mist of yesterdays
brought cold shame,
Enveloping memories
sang tales of a loss.
I sat brooding upon the things
Said and done.
Wondering where or if I had gone wrong…
Today’s warmth brought no solace
As the nights were spent in Shame’s cold embrace.
Days and nights pass,
stretching the distance between the mist and me. Vast…
And without the mist….
The crevices come in sight.
Healing wounds in warm daylight.

Am I?

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Am I really,
Who I claim to be?
Is it just a reflection that I
Daily see?
Am I the eyes that see the world?
Or am I what sees the eyes see the world?
Or am I what the world sees?
Am I the breath or what breaths the breath?
What do we call life?
Is this what we call being alive?


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To the unnoticed,
And rejected.
To the broken,
And neglected.
Life turns in all directions
Fates travel in different dimensions.
Keep walking and keep dreaming…
The paths will remain the same,
But you will be different one day.

A laden breeze

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What triggers memories? Well there are a lot of things some defined and some not so defined. Sometimes colours remind us of people, sometimes a certain kind of smell reminds us of a place and many such triggers that lead us down the memory lane.
The time was around mid september. When it is neither too hot nor cold. The air becomes pleasant… With the naughtiness of the wind, which tickles the neem boughs and plays with careless strands of hair…

And as I stood on the terrace… Around mid-night, a gentle breeze went past me. It was sweet, laden with the smell of night-blooming jasmine and rose. I could feel the smell filling my lungs as I  breathed, I could almost taste it. It was like reliving a lost memory. It was the smell of my childhood. This is what my childhood felt like…

I still remember sitting on the small window sill in my  grandma’s home, amidst the usual power cut, waiting for an occasional breeze to pass us by like a pleasant acquaintance. It would visit but the visit used to be rather short. And yet the smell remained intact the Jasmines and roses dissolving in my mouth. The wind used to be chilly bearing the effects of the nearby river leaving me a little sleepy and little happy…

It was a smell that would make you sad and happy at the same time… It would ask you to stay a little longer but you know that the vacation time is over… You have to work,get back in the crowd. You just can’t stay…
But I can still smell my childhood in lonely nights and damp mornings… It still visits me and tickles me…


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I lost something
Not worth losing…
Something which was once precious
Now lies away, strewn.
It was once mine.
I was asked to nurture it but
But I let it go astray.
I looked for it on forgotten roads,
And some memories from past…
But the search was in vain,
It just left me aghast.
Then one night,
I found a broken piece
Caught hold of it in the hope
For some peace.
I glanced at it from time to time,
It was the only thing on my mind.
I waited for some days to pass,
And then one day,
that broken piece turned into a looking glass.