Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Question

How can you love me
When you know me just for a month,
She asked.

He stammered.
How could he tell
When he first saw her, he was filled with lust.
Her reddish brown hair
Covering her bare shoulders
Stopped just above the swell of her breasts.

Her milky white skin
Promised to fulfill all his fantasies.
And her delicate lips
Seemed like salvation.

Her scent drove him mad
Making him want to possess her.
Her shapely body
Awakening desire,
Setting fire to his loins.

But he didn't know
When suddenly he stopped noticing her lips
And started loving her smile.
When he stopped noticing her bosom
And started seeing her heart.

He didn't know
When he stopped seeing her with his hands.
He forgot when he started averting his eyes
When in the middle of a conversation,
She adjusted her stole
Or tied her hair again.

He forgot when he stopped imagining her in bed
And instead, started dreaming of growing old together.

He couldn't find any words
And she left in a huff.
You guys are all same
She said.
You think love happens just like that?
You are just interested in my body!

Sunday, December 8, 2013


He sits on the cold ground
Barely able to walk
But slowly understanding his solitude.

The trembling hands rise to wipe his tears
Unaccustomed, he rubs his eyes red.
He tries to lick his dried lips
Salty with his tears.

He vainly sucks at his pacifier
His only possession
To escape his hunger pangs.

His throat is dry
His stomach empty
The clothes are old and ragged.

His head
Now bigger than his body
Weighs him down.
His face
Once soft
Is now puffed and streaked with dry tears
And dirt.

He tries to crawl somewhere
Wishing for  a corner he knows
Wishing for the loving hands he recognised
Wishing for the reassuring smells.

His feeding time is long gone
His tiny eyes dart everywhere
Looking for someone
Who might see his hunger in his eyes
His tiny tongue licks his thin lips
Anticipating warm, sweet milk.

Bewildered, feeling betrayed
He longs for his mother's soft hands
That soothed his body
He longs for her sweet voice
His favorite lullaby
And his soft,warm cot.

He keeps his ears alert
For his father's deep voice
His joyful laughter.

Everytime someone picks him up
He peers into them
Trying to see the two people
Who made him feel so special.

He shouts unintelligible words
Faintly hoping someone would clap
Hearing him trying to speak.
He is disappointed.

He has forgotten to smile
And why not
Earlier when his smile would start a celebration
It now sees only expressionless faces.

He tries to pull his torn vest
And suck at it.
He tries to lick the ground.
Hoping someone will come running
And picking him up
Would hurriedly feed him.
Dissappointed....once again.

Feeling neglected and cold
He cries to his heart's content
His voice gets hoarse and his throat tender.
He opens his teary eyes periodically
Wishing to see the once familiar figure come running to him.

But who would tell him
That they are no more.
People in an orphanage are busy.
They don't have the time
To tell him
His fragile world was shattered by a drunk driver.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

What We Don't Hear

Even the weakest eyes
Can see the sun rise
And the faintest of smiles
Lifts someone by miles.

The feeblest yes
From a bonny lass
Is a beautiful start
And lightens up the heart

But it's the hidden tear
We often don't hear
As it rolls down
And sears up the ground.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

It's Been A Pleasure

(Rape has become an epidemic. Amidst the red tapism and loopholes of laws, an attempt at dehumanizing rapists. Only death to them!)

It's been a pleasure
Satisfying my lust
Marauding your body
Violating your sanctity.

I am satiated now.
I feel a little sorry for you
As my orgasm comes to an end.
But I will be back for more.
You were just a meal.
Momentarily satisfying my hunger.

I see I have been too much of an animal today.
I mauled your face like a rabid dog.
You are covered in your own blood
I joyfully sucked.

I might add you had a good figure.
Soft and curvy at the right places.
I hope
My next one is like you too
Beautiful, soft,tasty,helpless.

I love my country.
It is so safe
For people like me.

Don't be afraid.
I am just a guy next door
I am quite normal.
I guess you would have enjoyed a cup of coffee with me
If you were alive.

Oh, please excuse me
I have to clean myself up
And go back to my family
To the comfort of home.

I wonder when your family will find you.
Hope sooner.
At least you would resemble a human body.


Sunday, November 3, 2013

A Handful Of Dirt

Do you contain the blood of someone
Who fought heroically eons ago?
Or do you contain the sweat of a man
Toiling away hard to feed his family.

Do you contain the tears
Of joys and sorrows
Of a people unknown, long forgotten?

Is it crushed dreams you contain?
Robbed by centuries
Do you hide vicious struggles?

Do you hold
The dusty footprints of  predators?
Or the leftovers
Of panic stricken prey.

Do you hold the passion
Of lovers who thought they would live forever?
Do you hold the love of a man
Who had nothing but you.

What is it you hold?
A piece of history?
A message?
An unspoken truth?
Or our past and future together?

Chyawanprash Champ!

Mummy, mummy are you there?
See..teddy fell down the stairs!
It's not good, it's not fair
His legs are weak,can we get a new pair?

Come my darling, let's pick him up
And here is your milk in your superman cup!
Not feeling sleepy are you little man?
Oh my, you have been out too long, look at your tan!

Coz I am strong mama, I can play all day long
But why can't teddy play along?'s because you have been a good boy
And you always take the magic potion with joy!

Yummy! Can I have some now?
Please please please mummy, now now now!
Oh you adorable naughty thing
After you finish your milk,and listen to this story with your eyes tinkling!

Yippie! I love you so much mummy
Hey teddy, come here you dummy
We are listening to a story
With kings and queens.Mama? Is there a fairy?

Haha..yes, we can include one too
Coz it's a magical strory, which is true!
It's about the magic potion you take
Let me tell you how it was made!

Long,long ago there was a child like you
Chyawana was his name, he never liked his mother's stew!
He grew up to be a mighty rishi
But his health was a little mushy!

He kept neglecting it!And wanted only to meditate!
And out of fear, no one could berate.
As it happens, he got a wife
Who was so beautiful, among the gods she caused strife!

Chyawana didn't take an apple a day
And so he couldn't keep two pesky doctors at bay!
Dr. Ashwini and Ashwini  were their names
They couldn't keep their eyes off Chyawana's dame!

But his wife was a clever little lady
She could see the doctors were a little shady!
She decided to play a neat little trick
And convinced the doctors to treat Chyawana, who was really sick!

Ofcourse they couldn't say no to her 
And they cured Chyavana then and there!
Did you know how they did it?
They created the first batch of your magic potion, that's what they did!

So pleased was he, he gave it his name
Chyawanprash it was named and grew it's fame!
So strong and powerful he became
Even Indra's vajra he could tame!

From then you see, every mother made a vow
To feed Chyawanprash to her child anyhow!
All your heroes relished the sticky sweet goo
Bheema, Arjuna,  and Hanuman  too!

Will everyone become strong like them mama
If they always take a spoonful without the drama?
Yes my sweetheart smiled mama
And though I don't admit it, I quite like your little drama!

Mama..if all the kids know this story
Will they take Chyawanprash daily?
Yes my child, thats the idea
To build a stronger, healthier and more immune India!

Will we all be champs then
And strong like our ancient  super men?
Yes my child , you will be
And none would be happier than me.

I love you mama, and the story too
And I want to be a Chyawanprash champ too
Oh yes! I want you to be one
India will then be second to none!

Tasty, gooey is my magic potion
Coming in different flavors and  options
Bring in more new flavors Dabur!
Strawberry, chocolate,honey and ginger!

This post was written as a part of the Indiblogger contest  for Chyawanprash

Saturday, November 2, 2013

A Pilgrim

What is it?
My conscience nudged me and asked.
You look sad, spent, disoriented.
I hope I knew, I sighed.
My mind, tired by centuries of folly
Tells me it's time.
You have played your part.
It's time, to cross over
And look back with longing
And desperation.
You have become a pilgrim
Who has crossed lands and seas
And come so far away
Only to realize too late
What you left behind
Was your salvation.

A pilgrim
Trapped in his own doing
Resigned to his fate
I foolishly seek
What was already mine.

I still carry on
Fuelled by shame, embarrassment, anger
I only push myself to my limits
Hoping I would break
And in that unforgiving act
Would be my last apology.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Moving Out

The carton seems as if it has gorged
On all my feelings,dreams and my moments alone.
As I struggle to duct tape it
A few whispers escape
Hey.. remember the time you looked around
And thought this was home sweet home?

We won't make it easy for you!
Sung someone in a naughty voice
Shed a tear or two
Or else we won't lighten your burden!

Sighing..I sat down for a while
And stopped avoiding the rush of feelings
I was afraid to acknowledge.

I looked around.
The walls smiled back at me.
They were the canvas of my thoughts
The floor nudged me gently
It was squeaky clean today
And not littered.

The empty cupboards still hung on
To the fragrance of my clothes.
Let me be,it said
I am slow at letting go.

The curtain less windows
Looked naked and skeletal.
They looked at me accusingly.

Breathing in my last afternoon
I tried to capture everything
Eyes frantically trying to keep up with my mind.

Here is where I used to sit and have dinner.
Here I used to relax ,reading a book.
I stubbed my toe here many times.
And here was where I first made love.

I caress the walls one last time
Scrunch my toes on the floor
Look around the now empty home
Feeling its warmth once more.

It is uncomfortable
Like letting go of well worn clothes
For new, crisp ones.
It sure is uncomfortable
But everything eventually
Always falls back to place.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013


What legacy would
You like to leave behind?

Won't you wish
To leave behind some goodwill?
Fond remembrance, and some jokes?

A wholesome family
Fine sons and daughters
And the genuine love and respect
Of your brothers and sisters?

Why, of course you would love
To leave behind
Many happy memories
And a comforting, lingering presence.

Or instead a grieving family
Some questionable principles
Few broken dreams
And hurt friends?

A bag full of notes
Some legal papers
Maybe a few gold bars
Even some diamonds maybe?

A relaxed foe
A rejoicing hater
A disappointed critic
Or an indifferent neighbor?

Don't you rather wish
To leave behind
Something safer,
And inspiring?

Then oh man!
Why do you fight and compete
When one day
On your deathbed
You want to leave
Something beautiful behind.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Life, The Con

The biggest con of all
After all the struggle and hopes of eternity
All you offer is death.

A cunning magician you are
Dazzling with choices
Tempting with rewards
Yet hiding the sacrifices.

You are such a sweet talker
With a forked tongue
Keeping us sedated
With promises like a never healing wound
Always there, but with bitterness.

You are the deceiver
Who said life is beautiful
Even when all we saw
Was the naked dance of evil.

Life... You are the shameless one
Without a conscience
Why else would you keep playing
Even after we know the truth?

What Do I Miss?

Sometimes I wonder, is it just me or others too feel more nostalgic when we are down. I used to feel guilty when I think of my place only when I need a safe cocoon to rest my mind. But now I have realized that my nostalgia towards my birthplace is constant,ever present. It is in my every complaint of climate or road conditions or language barriers in a different place. Actually these are not complaints at all, this is just the mind subconsciously missing the familiarity of the place I grew up.

Some people ask me, what do I miss the most? My parents, my school, my friends. Actually it can't be compartmentalized. Childhood memories are a whole package. From the loving care of parents, to the commute to school by cycle, knowing all the bends and potholes of the road , drawing on the wooden desks with our compasses, to the teachers whose house we used to know and visit during festivals, everything comes back and slams you on your chest.

It is one thing driving your car through a busy street on a metro.But it is completely different cycling your way on a almost deserted road, a little submerged by water, potholes here and there, wild shrubs bending over from the adjasent drain. Given a choice, I would switch to the cycle any time.

Sometimes I wonder what dreams I am chasing. I am not living in the place I love, not with my parents whom I want to care for. I know what I want but I am unable to do it. Fear of money maybe? I am afraid to find out the answer.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

The Menu

The eyes are bloodshot
The mouth, full of stench.
Smacking his lips
He asks through a mouthful of congealed rotten blood
And decaying meat
What's on the menu tonight?

Ah, says the innkeeper
You are in for a treat today!
A whole fresh body
Flash fried, with the soul still trapped inside
It's a suicide case.

And? Asks he, who is forever hungry.
Let me see, says the innkeeper, rummaging
I have got several aborted sucklings
Some well aged meat full of drugs
And a hell lot of tidbits.
Blast victims, he says
They taste well in a hot pot.

I got some raw bodies too
Murdered.But I don't think you would like them
One has the intestines spilling out
The other is missing brains.
Still warm though.
By the way, do you like it kosher?
I have a couple with their throats neatly slit.

It's getting easy for you, innkeeper
Growled he
With them doing half the cooking for you.
Well, yes , sort of.
In fact, the humans are my inspiration now
I am just confused
Whether they are better or worse than us.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

A Crazy Moment

I jump from the highest mountain
And land softly like a cat
Then run off to take a bath
In the Dead Sea.

I take part in a boat race
All alone, holding a piece of paper as a sail
And after winning
I reach the torture chamber to collect my prize.

I come out missing an arm and a leg
The price of winning
But the butcher said he would fix me up
And so did the seamstress.

I am thirsty.
I take some grapes
And taste the instant 1000 year old wine.
It is ordinary.

I feel like smoking
And exhale half the world out
It is lonely now.

I try to drown myself
To escape the sound
But the half torn movie ticket
Holds me back for the sequel.

I try to crawl
But the ground is too slippery
I can't fly.
My wings are not licensed.

I will be late.
I am a sacrificial victim for an hour
I will be back
Once I resurrect.

Friday, September 20, 2013

A Conversation

Utter helplessness?
It's now, said the repentant son
My parents are gone now.
Wished I was there more for them.

No, it is this
Said the morose man.
I know I am dying!

Ah, said the criminal mastermind.
I am sorry for you two.
But you know whats the most scary?

Oh yes, I know
Said the cat burglar
It is someone who knows exactly
What he is getting into!

No! Said the master mind
It is the one
Who doesn't have the slightest idea
Of the consequences.
That makes matters unpredictable!

Keep it down guys,
Said the lover boy
You know?
Love is the most beautiful thing!

Hmm..said the guy sitting silently
Do you know what is the most ancient thing? He whispered.
Gods? Mountains? Earth? The Sun?
It's the mind! he hissed
It draws on long lost evils!

You annoying guys,
Snapped the irritated old man
Tell me then
Whats causes certain death?

A bullet to the head?
You fools!
Its birth !

I Wish

I wish there were mines of laughter instead
And hearts were made of gold
Everyone will have their own
And precious still it would be to behold.

I wish time was made of chewing gum
To stretch it long and long
We would then always find the time
To sing our favorite song.

I wish there were floods
When tears flew freely, and not when rains lashed
I wish the fire of hunger was visible from far and wide
Every time someone's hope was dashed.

I wish we all could view
Every time there was a true love's kiss
I wish we knew each time
Greed took over bliss.

I wish happiness was like air
Never ending and free
And I wish life was like
An ever blooming tree.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Where Is She?

Where is she?
Asks the little girl
With the bluest eyes
And freckled skin.
Where is my mamma?

She will be here honey.
An angel whispers
And when she sees how beautiful you are
She will weep.

Really? Smiles the little girl
Showing her front teeth
Smeared with the chef's special chocolate.
I can't wait to see her! She squeals!

Sitting atop a fluffy white pillow
She waits for her grandpa
With his big flowing snow white beard.
She loved to wipe her dirty hands on it
As he rolled his eyes
And the angels smiled.

Just yesterday
Her grandpa took her to the moon
She became a year old
And played with the stars.
Held a comet by its tails
And whooshed down a black hole.

It will be more fun next year
She thought
Grandpa promised me a pair of wings!
Hope mamma will be here to see it.

Where is she?
Wonders her mother
Biting her lips
Stopping her tears
As she remembers
Her abortion a year ago.

Monday, September 16, 2013

What Turns You On, Rapist?

What turns you on?
The sun tanned shoulders
Where a loved one finds comfort?
Or that bosom?
I reckon you grew up sucking at one of those.
What a shame.

Are you turned on by someone in a bikini?
That might have been her first outing as a budding woman
You are not welcome to ruin it.

Are you turned on by long smooth hair
Cared and toiled for by a mother's weary hands?
Or you find that belly button exciting
Your parents played with yours, remember?

Of yes,some of you are turned on by buttocks
Exciting, aren't they?
Why don't you go play with yours?

Do you like a slender body
Honed by painstaking hours in the gym
Or do you like a fuller figure
Of someone in the ripe of womanhood?
Well..they did not sculpt their bodies for your filthy eyes and hands.

Do you like someone in a saree?
Or in a tight jeans, or a mini?
Oh, you are drooling!
Undressing them in your mind, aren't you?

I know your dirty secret
You rape them over and over again
In your mind.
And emboldened by it
You start your sordid hunt.

I can see you
Lurking in dark corners
Looking for your prey
Even grandmas and little girls will do?
I guess it's time
For someone to rape you back.

Oh wait, I have a better idea
Why not hand you over to pit bulls in heat?
I will get immense satisfaction
To see them tearing apart your skin,flesh and hair.

How does it feel
To get bitten by rabid dogs
All over your body?
Interesting, isn't it?
Oh look!
One of your eyeballs popped out
Holding on to the socket
With a thin strand of fleshy rope.

Are those entrails?
It must feel awesome
To have them pulled out
When you can still feel it!

Cry, beg, shout!
It is music
To my ears.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

The Last Day

Half awake, barely breathing
I wait.
I wished it  had happened in my sleep
But now I am grateful
For these last moments of consciousness.
I get to say goodbye
To my memories.

I struggle to fill my lungs
They protest. Don't struggle, they admonish me
We are trying to make it
As smooth as possible.
Keep calm, the heart says
I am still at work.
You will know
When it's time.

I feel the blood rushing in my ears
Carrying my consciousness all over my body
For a final journey
Of hellos and goodbyes.

Feeling a little cold,I lodge a silent protest.
Don't worry,someone whispers
We are about to close the curtains of your play
And it's a little chilly outside.

I am not scared.
There is discomfort
But I know all this will soon be over.

But sad I am
Leaving behind the sound of my first laughter
The magic of my first words.
And the footprints of my first step.

I am leaving behind the words and rhythm
Of the songs of my childhood
The careless laughter of my youth
My heartbeats for my love
And my tears of joy and sorrow.

But I know that they are not lost
My laughter will echo from somewhere
My words will touch other's lips
My footprints will always be kept safe
By the earth I walked on
Till it's time for me
To come back.

It grows colder
The curtains are almost down
The audience has dispersed
Faintly the heart keeps on beating
Before the watchman
Flicks off the mains.
It's an end 
But a new play starts tomorrow.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

She Screams

She screams.
Satan smiles sardonically.
Sanguiferous, Smelly,
Soliciting souls.

Spirit shattered,
She slumps, sinks

Shapeless shadows snarl, screech
Scaring solitude
Snatching sanity
Spreading syphilis.

Screaming, society surrenders.

The Spy

It's been ages since I slept.
How can I?
I feel like my bed is made of black,sticky blood.
The faces keep staring back at me
Here's one whom I shot
Here's another whom I knifed.
I  feel like thousand of ants running on my skin
Driven to a frenzy by the congealed blood.

I freeze a smile on my face
Fearing I will throw up
Spilling the blood,guts and flesh.
I keep checking the mirror
For a forked tongue or any fangs I might have grown.

I feel like a traitor
Acting throughout the day
You are doing it for the country son, they say
But am I not deceiving my life?

But I carry on
Yearning for that momentary bliss
When I catch a glimpse of you
From afar
Ivory skin, reddish brown hair
You look like an angel
To my tortured soul.

Every time I jump of the plane
Weighed down by guns and sadness
I remember the time I ran when I saw you
You couldn't stop laughing.
I was smiling too
I fleetingly saw your face
And smelled your perfume.
I had to run, you know
Anything close to my heart
Is seen as liability or an opportunity.

Yes I know
"Friends" laugh at me
I laugh with them too
A sad, maniacal laugh.

But look what I have lost.
I can no longer see whats true.
But living this lie so long..
I yearn for normalcy
Just to be free to talk to you.

Dying in the line of duty is a blessing
But living the life of another
Is something beyond sacrifice.

Every time the enemy is in my cross-hairs
Every time I booby trap something
Every time I walk along dark narrow by-lanes
Looking for the enemy
I think of you
Would you have liked me
If you knew what I was in reality?

Under fire
Dirt and hot air whizzing by
Under water
Silently swimming towards carnage
I think of you.

Every time I get shot,
I think of you.
Every time I jump into the unknown
I think of you.
Rushing by to save lives
I think of you.

I guess I will never be able to tell you
And when someday I lie somewhere
Body ridden by bullets
Or flesh torn by shrapnel
Life slowly ebbing
I will just have one regret
Of not having even one good look at your face.

Friday, September 13, 2013


The breasts that fed you warm milk
Grow hard and cold
Every time you fall
Every time you kill
Every time you taste blood
Yours or your enemy’s.

The lips that once sucked soft nipples
Now bite bullets
Hold cigarettes
And caress wounds.

Soft hands are now calloused
From sending death messages
Through bullet mail
To the guys
On the other side of the fence.

Every time the juicy meat gets torn
And blood gushes out like a last prayer
Fast, in a hurry
You rejoice.
But somewhere
A mother’s heart grows cold
The leftover milk
Dries up along with her blood.

If you keep playing with red
It will take away from you
The blue and the greens.

Bygone are the days
When you were a child of god.
You are feral now
But with a leash.

You are stupid
Trading your mother’s milk
For oil and religion.
But is it so surprising
When we have divided even nature.

Bygone are the days
When fearlessness meant saving lives.
Bygone are the days
When we were just men

And not wannabe gods.


Don't question me, she said
I am tired of your words.
Silence is the most profound question, I said.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Where Are The People?

Sometimes I wonder
Where are all the people.
I see only two legged animals
Carrying hot molten lead in their hearts.

Where are the people
Who used to carry a garden in their hearts
Stench of greed they used to ignore
With barely a glance.

Where are the people
Who used to carry the vast blue sky in their hearts
The narrowness of selfishness they used to laugh at
With contempt.

Where are the people
Who used to carry the majestic mountains in their hearts
The lowliness of character they used to despise
With a vengeance.

Where are the people
Who used to carry the calmness of oceans in their heart
Rashness and insensitivity they used to cure
With understanding.

Where are the people
Who used to carry love in their hearts
Who used to make this world safer for everyone
Who believed all men are brothers
And who believed
Love is unconditional.

Where are all the people?
I wonder
Am I in a bad dream?

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

My Son, I Love You

A bundle of joy you were
When my eyes rested on you for the first time.
I remember it well
Because it was the only time
You cried and I was happy.

So fragile, yet strongly alive
With each breath you grew
Crying when hungry, soiling your clothes
You announced your arrival.

Teeth less gums, pink and soft
Became the most beautiful thing I saw everyday
Your fragrance and your soft breath
Became my music.

The nights were long and sometimes hard
You were fussy,colicky and sometimes naughty
I sure did miss my sleep
But now I miss those times too.

My son, I love you
Not only for coming to my life
But also for helping me see my parents in a new way
For making me understand your mother more
For making my life simple
Because now the only thing I yearn for,
Is to be a good son,husband and a father.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Love..Lets Laugh At You

You think you make the world go round?
Get down from that pedestal
You can't see clearly from that high
Come ..lets go for a drink
And laugh at you.

Stop pretending, will you?
Do you think you still speak for whole mankind?
Wake up!
The hearts have hardened
The smiles are frozen
And the eyes are no longer easy to look at.

It was you who boasted
No matter what color, all will be drunk on love
You should admit defeat now
Drunk on blood, all people love now is the color red.

Were you always this afraid?
Were you always a coward?
Why do you run away to the darkest corner of the heart
When it's you who can cure this "color blindness".

It's madness everywhere
Look around, your kingdom is in shambles
It was your foolishness
To think we are better than animals.

Yes we walk on two feet
That just leaves our hands free to do more damage
Lets raise a toast to you ,Love
And laugh at you.

Monday, August 19, 2013


People say your color is green
But you are a vicious blackish red in reality
The color of dead flesh.
Rotten,devoid of love
Unholy is your stench.

Curse on you,you rapist!
Violating minds and hearts,
Molesting humanity,
You dance naked on emotions.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

I Look For You

I look for you...
In the kitchen
Your favorite spoon lies untouched
The green tea bags are now months old
The kettle no longer whistles all day
The spice bottles are half full
Just the way you left them.

Your clothes lie washed and ironed
Faintly smelling of your perfume
I keep the cupboard door closed
Lest the scent fades away.

I have not washed the curtains since long
But honey, they are not filthy yet
I no longer open the windows for air
I now just like them closed.

I have not moved the furniture
Yes, I remember you told me to clean them
But you know,
I just keep them covered
That keeps the visitors away.

Your pillow still rests beside me
You know I cant sleep without your smell
There is even a lock of your hair on it
I take care to let it be the way it is.

Your pills are still by our bedside
I knew they wont be finished
You never took them on time!

It's been just a few days you are gone
But I look for you everywhere
I keep looking for you
I find you everywhere
Just to lose you again.

I know you are in a better place
And I know you miss me too
You look for me like I do for you
But don't worry honey
I have plans to be with you there soon too.

The Song Of Mankind

It is as if the heart is imprisoned
Is it why it fails to beat as it should?
Never satisfied, never content
Heaven too seems small for us
But we fight and die
For mere trifles
Because our heart never beats as it should
This is why we made hell  in here
Trying to create our own heaven.

Banished from eden
We wander,
Champions no longer we were
Because we let go of winning and thought just of defeating.

Wealth and knowledge
Are the playthings of a few
Like the false gods that we are
We betray our own brethen.

Flimsy borders have we created
Not ashamed of dividing even the skies
But it's  not a surprise
When we have divided even the gods amongst us.


Saturday, August 17, 2013


The distance is only a reminder
That my life is nothing without you
Beyond you
My existence is a shadow.

Oh, my motherland
I carry with me your fragrance
The rich earth, the young rivers, the comforting trees
Why don't I feel lost
Even when I am in the wilderness in you?

The rain and sunshine feel friendly in you
The storms and thunder like a mother's loving words
My love for you is eternal
I can bleed for you,my land, but never weep when I am in your embrace.

My motherland is where
My only heaven is
The sweetest water, the cleanest air
The greenest fields, the bluest sky
My motherland is where
Is my life alive.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

I "Ambi Pur"ed It!

Just as I "Tropicana"d my breakfast to make it full
And "Surf Excel"ed my clothes, cotton, satin and wool
I "Ambi Pur"ed my car just last Jul
And I tell you, it does what it says, it's claims are no bull!

The Ambi Pur mini vent clip "Bruce Li"d the stale air
And "Chuck Norris"d the odors without a care
It "James Bond"ed the lingering stenches so well
Everyone exclaimed, What the hell!

My drives are now "Dev Anand"ed, fresh and evergreen
And my life is "Ambi Pur"ed, traffic woes no longer as they had been
I have "McDonald"ed my Ambi Pur mini vent, I am liking it
Stop thinking whether you should get it,"Nike" it, just as I did!

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Wafting By : The Nostalgic Nose Chronicles

Long before I knew that it is called olfactory memory, I have been finding solace in my private world of fragrances ever since I can remember. My youngest memory is that of the Pears soap my family used. My mother would keep the soap cover for days near my window, knowing I loved the smell. Whenever I would need a break from anything, I would take the empty cover and inhale the faint scent deeply. Everybody tolerated my quirk, probably thinking it is good that I am not inhaling glue!

The familiar scent of the soap would instantly transport me to my protected haven, into the loving arms of my parents in our cozy home. I hated going to school. And whenever I had a fight or a teacher scolded me, I would just imagine myself smelling the familiar comforting fragrance. It had such an effect on me, I now realize I was partial to friends who used the same soap and smelled like it!

With age, I slowly started exploring the world. I would help my father as he worked on our tiny kitchen garden. And I would wait impatiently till he allowed me to water the garden. Sprinkle lightly over the seeds just planted, he would say. A balmy evening and the earthy smell of water on freshly dug soil is something that remains with you till your dying day. I loved that time with my father. The setting sun creating a magical atmosphere, and a smile of satisfaction playing on my father lips. When I look back, I believe it was  a moment when I felt closest to being one with the whole world. Now my father no longer works in our kitchen garden,and I stay in a concrete jungle in another city,courtesy my job. When it rains, I try in futile to look for that elusive earth smell. It's always missing. Someday, I promise myself, me and my father will spend some magical moments again,under  a setting sun in a balmy evening, working on our garden, talking about everything and nothing.

As an adult now, there is rarely any time for me to stop and smell the flowers. A cliche, I know. But in reality, there are times when I long for something which will transport me to my world in a cocoon, where there are no blaring horns and frustrating traffic,  no rushing to office, no deadlines. Where there is just life and the time to appreciate it.

Another incident I vividly remember is when I spilled my father's Old Spice aftershave. Needlessly to say, I was disciplined and an entire room smelled like a barber shop for a whole week. Nevertheless this incident sealed the fate of Old Spice as my aftershave of choice. Every time I use it, I remember that time. The little me reaching out to touch the fascinating red bottle, clumsily dropping it, and everyone coming running, drawn by the smell. In a way, this has made shaving a therapeutic ritual for me, which takes me back to my childhood and with it, to a time of innocence.

But the smell I miss most is that of a cold cream used by my mother. I guess it was named Tuhina and it is no longer available now. My mom would use it even on me and I would keep smelling my hand,till she got exasperated and finally made me wash my arms! So much for a cold cream!

Getting married was an exciting time for me. And when I became a father, I was ecstatic. I held the baby close to smell that new baby smell so many people talk about. And I fell in love with my son. It is something that cannot be described. A mixture of baby powder, wipes,new clothes, it instantly makes me feel complete. It is like life has come full circle. And I look forward to smell the earth with my son and my father!

Many times I think what is it in a smell. Why does it make me feel sane and peaceful in this mad , mad world? Is it a dependency? Actually it is not. It is just the happy memories stored within you coming forth again. I call them my life fragrances. They make me happy, content and give me a sense of belonging.

I thought I had had my fill of my "life fragrances". But a frantic drive to our pediatrician turned out to be a eye opening experience. I never used a car perfume, rather loving the scent of leather. But my wife insisted and I reluctantly bought an Ambi Pur car perfume. The pacific air one, to be  precise. I got to test it in an unfortunate incident when we had to rush our son to the hospital due to a stomach infection. Throughout the drive, I could strangely feel myself calm ,composed and resolved. I was not panicking,rather, I was strangely assured that I would reach the hospital fast without any incidents and everything will be fine. I won't deny the affect of my wife's reassuring hand on my shoulder all the time I was driving. But she also told me that the Ambi Pur perfume reminded her of a garden, covered with soft grass and blooming flowers. And this made her feel peaceful. I guess it had the same effect on me too. I agree it is purely psychological. But I would grab anything with both hands which will keep my mind peaceful during traffic moving at a constipated pace or a frantic drive!

It is a medically proven fact that a smell can open a floodgate of memories. A smell which makes you remember your emotions is a powerful tool, transporting you back to your happy childhood or a memory which invigorates you, makes you forget your problems and infuses you with energy to take life by it's horns. It is not a way of escaping reality, it is rather drawing energy from your memories to remind you that all is well!  


Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Seems Like A Past Life

Unforgiving is the day
Rushing to its end
Angry of its own existence.

Callous and vulgar
Are the seconds,minutes and hours
Without any mercy
They banish everything to the past.

Careless laughter
Childhood dreams
Uncomplicated friendships
Unconditional love...
Lost in time.

I am an adult
But why does my childhood
Seem like a past life?

Thursday, August 1, 2013

It's Time

Slowly sets the sun
The sky is painted blood red
Soon to vanish into black nothingness
But reminded of it's existence
By the stars,herded by the moon.

Comfortable blackness settles in
Accentuated by feeble fireflies
Whose trail of light leading nowehere
Mirrors the universe above

Silence sets in
Like a shroud on a body
Completing the darkness.

But it is time
To hunt and kill
The seek out prey
To harass the weak and feeble
To become the animals we are
While the dark night looks on
Knowing it won't be blamed
Because the light has been blind since long.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Little Pussy

Pitter,patter the rain falls
Little Johnny can't sleep
Do the angels weep, mama
Do the angels weep?

Are they sad for little pussy
All alone at night?
Meow meow,scratch scratch
Let him in mommy, he won't bite!

Boom,boom the thunder sounds
The meowing and scratching stops
Hurry Johnny,lets bring him in!
Thanks you mama, love you lots!

Pussy is not moving mama!
Is he fine?Is he fine?
Why are his eyes closed mama?
Is he fine?Is he fine?

Hiding her tears in the rain
Mama turns to Johnny
Pussy has gone to a better place, she said
He is fine now, honey.

But you see his left his body here
For us a lesson to gain
Never close the door on someone
Who might be in pain.

Bring him in little Johnny
He is wet ,lets wipe him dry
Then tie the red ribbon on his neck,
Said Mama, trying not to cry.

When morning came and the sun shone bright
Mama and Johnny buried little Pussy
They sprinkled flowers at his grave
Some red roses and a daisy.

Here lies pussy,a friend of mine
He is in a better place, wrote Johnny, he is now fine 
He is now one of the stars that shine
He is now fine, he is now fine.

When You Love

When you love...

Be like the desert
Each and every raindrop it welcomes
Deep inside it soaks it in
Making it a part of its own
Never to let go.

Be like the mountains
Strong and permanent
Always protecting, always sheltering.

Be like the mist
Return it will always
A comfortable cloak it brings with it
Dark and lonely when the night is

Be like the forge and the gold
Together who burn and suffer
But amazing is the magic they create.

Be like the summer breeze
The winter warmth, the autumn bloom
A child's carefree laughter you be

Be love itself..
When you love

Monday, July 29, 2013

My Love

I don't want you to be the sun and the moon and the stars
I would rather like you to be the candlenight which I can feel.
I don't want you to be perfect
You are the right size for my heart.

I don't want you to sing me love songs
I would rather like you to etch my name on your heart
I don't want you to pray for me
My prayers have already been answered.

I don't want you to quench my thirst
I don't want you to  make it rain
I would rather like you to be the oasis of my life
The one and the only one.

I don't want us to be apart for a moment
I don't want us to fight
I don't want to think about death
But I would like to die together.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Yes You Can

When you are a nobody
With an ordinary life
You still can give to othes
Just like the water colorless water
Gives life to colorful flowers.

When you are down and defeated
You still can inspire others
By refusing to stay down...
As long as your last breath is inside.

When you are dying..
You still can give to others

Helping someone see again
Beating as someone's heart
Staying alive in other souls.

Yes you can!
You can go on living after death.

Thursday, July 25, 2013


Tears try to flow like unruly streams
But They are held back by the dam of indifference

Anger bubbles inside me like boiling water
My cowardice makes it lukewarm

Frustration piles up like a river in flood
But they are pushed back by a wall of apathy

My dreams rush forward to become reality like a river tributary
But are shattered by the blow of procrastination

Happiness tries to gush like a fountain
But a shameless society puts a lid on it

My thoughts are vast and deep like the ocean
Useless until they help a ship reach its destination
Helpless until someone build a bridge over them
But harmful if they become a tsunami

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

The Lover Boys

The African sunset seemed a little more red to the hapless project manager. Sweating buckets, he blinked his eyes to drive away that thought of both clients and offshore baying for his blood. He cursed his stars,gods, himself and the unholy hour when he handpicked the 3 resources for onsite. He gritted his teeth and stopped short of chewing his tongue. Adjusting his belt and pulling his pant up, he took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, wishing he could drive away his problems the same way. Wearing a fake distant look, he returned to the guest house which was eerily silent. Not that it was empty.Under normal circumstances, evenings in the company guest house would be bustling with activity. People frantically working on their laptops, making urgent calls to offshore, preparing for the next days short, everybody on their toes. But these..these guys whom he hired.... he stopped thinking...afraid he might burst a vein.

Meanwhile, the objects of his affections were completely unaware of his anguish. Not that they cared. The business analyst was dangerously and delicately positioned above the water tank. A slight change in position might send him to the bone setting section of an obscure African hospital.Sprawling as if he was on a bed of roses, he was talking to his fiancee in a hushed voice. Who would think this was the same guy who while talking to offshore sounded like Hari Sadu incarnate? Wearing an orange t shirt and green shorts, unmindful of the mosquitoes, he continued chatting as his body took an unnatural shape as it sagged under his weight. With his back on the tank and now a foot on an adjoining wall , he was half dangling like a potato sack.

The techie as usual was under a snake of cables. Headphones, laptop, webcam ...everything was overworked as he voice chatted with his girlfriend. Not even bothering to check if someone was nearby, he was blowing kisses upon kisses. The manager shook his head in disgust .Suddenly a delicious idea came to him. Will throwing a mug of water at the guy electrocute him? Most certainly it will, he thought savagely. Afraid he might actually do it, the manager shuffled away.

The team lead, once his trusted henchman, was the one most affected. Newly married, he had to leave his bride as she would get her visa only after a month. He came back a changed man after his marriage and adopted the role of resident vegetable. If he was not talking over the phone, he would either watch TV or mourn himself till his bodily functions forced him to come out of his stupor. Wearing the vague look of a dope addict, he hardly noticed the manager.

The situation was worse at client site. People were afraid to approach the trio for any doubt least they went into seizure. For some inexplicable reason , the lovelorn souls had stopped shaving. The manager reminded himself to talk to them about corporate dress code. Training sessions, which earlier were raucous with clients shouting their approval or disapproval with gusto(remember this is Africa), were now attended silently like a sermon. Hope before they kick us away, I can earn some dough, thought the manager gloomily.

Moving around the guest house like a lone ghost, he finally reached the kitchen when the African cook was cooking up some reasonable Indian food.  He was a young man who doubled up as their driver. A recently married guy, he seemed nice enough. Africa was notorious for the power cuts. And if it weren't for the cook cum driver who ensured they always have a stock of diesel for the generator, he would end up eating candle night dinners with 3 deranged love lorn men.Suddenly the manager went white. The business analyst, having finished his love quota for the day and suddenly feeling the pangs of hunger, came down from his abode and in haste,took the diesel container and poured it on the pan.


The cook was nowhere to be seen.He fled as soon as the first flames leapt up, but not before grabbing the precious dressed chicken.People commented how 1 of the 4 men, whose house got burnt ,was almost smiling. Feeling sorry that he had gone mad with grief, they looked at him sympathetically. Suddenly the manager, with blackened face and singed hair and eyebrows, began to laugh hysterically. When he calmed down, the 3 concerned guys asked him what was the matter. He told - "Pata tha project ghush jayega, teen teen lover boys jo aa gaye!"