Tuesday, March 29, 2016


The lies that you tell
The magic of ulta-pulta
Has brought us here
Where we are.

Learning the ropes
To evade responsibilities
To whine perpetually
For what you get.

May be you deserve
Far more than this;
But you need a bakra
To hang your sins on.

The questions to trap
Shows your real self.

Monday, March 28, 2016


In many shades, the choices abound;
So tempting to the surprised buyer's mind.
In earthen shades, mud brown or tan,
Or in tints of the ocean, blue and green. 

The choices are too many, each unique
Be it the drape of emerald or turquoise;
The hues of the skies: rainy, cloudy,
Bright, grey or shades of the twilight. 

The mystic magic of the silver raindrops
The pure red on the bride's forehead,
All before me in the form of these drapes
That each look matchless and perfect. 

From the heap before me, I choose a hue
To bring a wordless wonder on your face.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Water Dog

To define oneself, one needs so many words
To define oneself, one needs so many roles.
Elemental water, loyal as a dog in chinese era
Strong and enduring like a lion of the zodiac.

For years, this elemental water needed vessels;
For years, it worshipped you with its loyalty.
Now you are no longer here to define me
I flow again with the wanderlust of a dreamer.

Not that I need this persuasion of soft words
Not that I need this melting of strong wills;
For even without a single word or glance
This lonely wanderer and his song are mine.

For it's from these shores that he drifted off
And to this loyal heart that he'll come home.


All smiles and bright;
The little one shines.
It's dawn once again.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Drops of Youth

In tiny glass bottles, they sell drops of youth,
At exorbitant prices and dreams of perfection.
The words persuade, I decide to buy some
Just to check out for an overnight miracle.

Drops of youth, she claims can cure your scars.
Can melt away your acne-scars and pimples;
The girl mutters guessing my Achilles' heel
The need to have perfect pimple-free skin.

While I read her compact and eyeliner,
The perfect matte and the Absolute range
And think of the many things I have tried-
Diet, facewashes, scrubs, oils and whatnot.

Yet I'd love to keep an old belief of this land,
That they're brought on by an admirer's eyes.

Heaven& Hell

You have raised heaven and hell
To get the things that you want.
Justice, equality, wages, voice
But never have sought a love.

For years it's been given up
And written away in verses.
An old dog of a heart asks now
Couldn't you've saved it all up?

The image once in the mirror
Was a bold warrior in armour
With no worthy cause to fight for 
With no war worth winning.

Yes, it could have lived peacefully
Than the miss the one already gone.


Thick like ladies' fingers
I had teased them once
As I held them in mine.

On this long tedious path
I saw you tap your fingers
To the song I was humming.

Through the tedious heat
Though you didn't turn
To look at me even once.

Yet I saw you tap your fingers
To the song that I was humming
All day and night long.

Of the days spent in singing
With eyes that shine bright
With hope that rises again.

After the summer tedium,
After the dreary monsoon
Just in time, for you and me.

Your fingers draw the story
They weave a dream in words
Music, coffee, words and us.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Green Again

Photo: Flickr

A bit of bright blue sky to sing aloud;
A pelt of rain to sleep comfortably;
A bit of thunder and lightning to look
And feel brave and happy at times.

The swooping  airshow by the kites;
Caught by the eye and not on the lens,
The evening palettes in hues of blue,
That brings back some thoughts of you.

Like a chorus in a song, you play nonstop,
While I watch the skies and the rain,
Look at the fresh green banyan leaves
Turn wan in the summer sun like me.

The tiny heart-shaped leaves will flicker,
And our hearts will turn green once again.

Friday, March 18, 2016

The impossible

I think the hue and cry is about nothing.
You and I are not impossible.
You and I are too too different to be


He proved that the earth was not the centre
Of this mighty sprawling universe.

Sorry my dear to break your illusions
You are not the centre of this world either.

Summer Tedium

The attempts that you make
To figure me out;

To fix me within the matrices
Of your understanding.

Yet it looks like you covet
The little that I have.

The little that I have
Which for me is a treasure.

To break your illusions
I reveal all that I have. 

My four walls
And a chirpy little bird. 

Poetic justice

Children who are always told what to do,
Who don't really know what they really want.

The storms within and the tears they hide;
The boomerang comes back in slow time.

Tuesday, March 08, 2016


Her heart is large enough
To hold you close to her;
For she is not of this world.

She is foolish in her ways;
Poundwise or pennywise;
For she is not of this world.

She didn't give me a staff
Nor a bag for my journeys;
For she is not of this world.

Nor enough to nourish me
Like the others did theirs.
For she is not of this world.

But she loved me enough
To let me learn by model
To learn lessons my way.