Thursday, October 17, 2013

A view from the clouds


rooi k faahe, rakhe hue hai hawa me
reh reh k dehek rahe hai wo kal rat k koyale
sigri k dhua abhi hata nahi hai
naya din abhi hua nahi hai
rat ki thandak chadar ke karine se abhi bhi tapak rahi hai
tumhari yad abhi tak chati nahi hai

sannata kahi bana hua hai, beichaini kahi thami hui hai
unchaiee kaat nahi sakti, sachai  jo badal nahi sakti
kahaani ne mod aisa lia hai jaise kisine us kirdar ki maut ko see dia hai
kirdar wo aj bhi hai, karzdar tum aj bhi ho
par ab jald karz ka matlab nahi rahega, kyunki shayad ab us mol k astitv nahi rahega

baadal abhi bhi utne hi besharam hai, reh reh k rang badalte hai
poocho to kehte hai bebak ki mei wo nahi jisse tum kal mile the
kaise samjhau unhe mei; ki sirf roop aur vesh me tum nahi ho
uske andar jo tum ho shayad; ab tum samajjhte ho ki wo tum nahi ho

mei reh jata hu fir se meri kahani lekar, shuruat ko ek nae duhai dekar
kya badla tha ajtak jo ab badlega, kash aisa socha hota to kya kuch badla hota
ab neeche log dikhne lage hai , aur dikhne lage hai ghar aur sadke
kuch samay mei, mei bhi in logo me aur inki galio me hounga
par fir bhi waha badalte baadlo jaise log hoenge, aur hounga me is soch me
ki kab hoengi cheezein waisi jaisi chahi thi, kahani aisi jaisi likhi thi
rooi k faahe, rakhe hue hai hawa me
sigri k dhua abhi bhi hata nahi hai

A view from my planes window had me thinking of the beauty that I always see.

Friday, September 20, 2013

I may, maybe

And I found happiness, knew how to appreciate it but then it was when I was sad;
And I found solace,knew how respite felt like but that was when I was struck in the midst of a crowd;

Am I moving too fast or has the sloth muffled me
Am I smiling cause I know not to cry

Should I appreciate it now that I can seek what I want
Or should I stay and be sad cause it at the first place taught me, to respect

Should I run as walking leaves that sore
or should I loose cause winning makes me immune

When its so sad why do u add up
When things are bad why do we not pack up

let me pack you up
run myself over my lips
right my woes and put it in my books
and then
and then burn my half of the books

Cause you are just a phase
A guy who has just been in a rage
Rage will swell and then pride will fall
I wish the guy to stand tall

And if you stand even then
maybe then sometime we can still maybe then
we can sit and call names which
would be happy to hear and bring us some cheer
cause that is what would make us more of the man
and you less of the moron

Or should I even think about it,
should I
may I

I may, maybe
or maybe not

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

kash bat alag hoti


Kitni bar tumne isko toda
Kitni bar waqt ne muh moda
Par chahta nahi tha tu samajhna
Na manna na pehchanna
Ki soch rahegi ye abhi ya shayad kabhi nahi

Ek jawab tumhare pas bhi hai
Aur hai ek sawal mere pas bhi
Tum chaho to yahi hogi zindagi apni
Aur chaho tum to hogi ek beete kahani meri

Yad aunga mei tumhe ek galti ki tarah
Aur yad rahogi tum mujhe ek ehsaas ki tarah

Na rukunga mei aur na rukogi tum
Tum rahogi aisi hi aur mei rahunga waise hi

Bas sath alag hoga
Bat alag hogi

Fir mei todunga apne apko
Aur tab bhi nae samjhunga
Kyunki samajhna mei kabhi chahta nae tha

Kash tum hoti kash hota mei


Wednesday, July 10, 2013


commotionby *soft-h

RUN with might
FIND evidences for what you believe
DRIVE with passion
EARN to settle plight

CREATE yourself
And feel that no motherfucker can taint you, maim you
My head wobbled back with the swerving ideas.
It hadn't been such impatient before, with those succulent thoughts.
But nowadays I am losing it more often than not.
I hide between myself.

Damning philosophies and berserk debates rattle in my ears,
Things half said, thoughts half rotten malign me.
Is it the work that has taken its toll on me,
or have I obviated life of life itself

Things are now tasks, difficulties are now processes
Randomness is maiming itself, creating airs for those jiffy clean processes

And no I don't like this
A clear sky laughs behind a clear mind
A road of clarity triggers me of my haplessness
The clutter was me, the stench the turmoil was me
The land at the road's end with all that commotion was me
Somebody has tried to kill me, by saving me from this death

This I never wanted
With a life better placed
But with a place better wasted
Sadness now doesn't pain me
Its the emptiness which kills me

I am afraid to head home early after a tiring day
Not because of drudgeries of officiating administration
But because of the fear of nothing to do
I am tired not from work but from the dearth of it

I am a hollow mind now, my body had long lost its charm
But this mind was not supposed to act in this penance
I tried counting the new people whom I met earlier
I tried searching for friends for fresh air
But the numbers on fingers made my fingers look too big

Every night I return back as the lone rider
And just as and when I am about to stop fear cringes
And throttle twinges to let the ride go some more
To a road not taken, to a streetlight yet virgin
Delinquency to move one more block

Fear is sidelining everything,
And that too so much that the courage to drive on is,
basically, fear pushing me to drive on


Monday, July 1, 2013

Choose your God

Image Courtsey : perfectionist_ all together
GOD: All powerful, miraculous maryada purshottam.
All 3 above fit the bill.

Let us agree over the truthfulness of what I think.
I think that there is no god. And this truth literally sucks big time for the folowers and the non followers.

But my issue is not with me not following or with people following but with people who are more than the fence sitters.
See fence sitters too are real.
This is about people who actually are disjointed between what they are and what they show to be.

Picture this by a close friend.

"I really hate all this worshipping. It is so superstitious.
But yes I believe that Ram exists.

I don't know if my anger is really justified but then the debate still remains. Atleast with me it remains.
Now be bloody clear in your mind. If you believe in Ram then how can you call worshipping him and other things superstitious. At the first stage your Ram is a story.
He never existed nor would he ever will.
But chalo lets get over it and for your better good lets believe he exists.
In that case his worshipping too is respectful.

Dont try to act the cool dude in public who is so super cool who believes that rituals are blind faith, superstition.
Or sometimes with the super god theory.
That I dont believe in these gods but yes I believe in super powers.

So it means your intelligence has made you believe that all this Ram, Shiv, Allah, Jesus is a myth after all.
But still your hogwash makes you bang your head over that supergod.

So please read more, explore more question more. Even I am doing the same.
Why bound yourself to what your Hindu/ Muslim/ blah blah parents made you think.

See at the first place you never were a Hindu.
You were comfortably tagged this. Go choose your religion, choose your fucking god.

OK its not your fault. It is mine I think.
I hate your double standards.
How much I hate this bullcrap called as God I would still stay atleast stay true to yourself.
Moron be clear of what you think.
No double standards please.

With your Ram causing havoc in people's love, with you being offended for words against Allah, with you believing that your efforts are not yours but because Jesus has steered you.Enough.
I hate you guys enough, don't give me more reasons.


Saturday, May 25, 2013

the killing impatience

by ~AlesyaSokol

See it was not easy.
Not easy for me atleast.I dread days and hours kill me. My speech is maimed while I ruthlessly want to stab me.
It is not that I am not strong, it is just that I am impatient.
Impatient like a dead duck, being dragged by a dog after the heist from the farmers lawn.
I will fiddle and let my will twiddle.

But never ever I would say that I harp sadness.
I conjure madness but sadness no I never feel so.

But feeling something, saying something and doing something else is what is human I think.
The way Adam would have fucked Eve behind the sink.

You see the horizon waiting for it to meet, I seethe through the end to make my eyes feel the bend
cause I know there is no horizon never and what you see is just my eyes playing fever

darkness has evaded me now, I dont call it darkness anymore
it is the new sun now
Patience has belittled me, I see the new wait now...

Days pass as if I sleep
Sleep has shots as f that is the only place awake

I keep asking in rhetorics now
my peers meanwhile seeing me in historic wow
they said,you have to be there to see that 
I say,
you have to see that to be there

There is no right answer I was once told 
that is old with a little hint of bold

There aint no right question if it has got a right answer
This is an irony which makes even great minds falter

Cause tell me if I could answer your questions
then your questions wont be questions anymore

your answers a puzzle falling filthily flat 
like that remorseful drizzle

Oh leave it, I will keep asking myself
why it all started
maybe the 1000 things that have got this fire started
I still squirm when I am in the pool
To see if water can take out what is guzzling in minds fool

A fire has started
and i wait for answers with little but yet with my part of this,

And here it is where we all started
I know you dint get a word of this while some you farted
So i ask you to read this again
and feel the pain that life thwarted
and then you would realize that it was all about impatience
impatience which is now the new patience

A patience which even homer simpson thinks is patience
I still let my skull fiddle and my mind twiddle
cause it never was easy it never will be...


Thursday, May 16, 2013

being good


As of an ebb it pervades
Over evil will which it evades

I sat there thinking, whether to kill it
or let it seethe, be raw yet competent

There was no compulsion apart from the fact
that the only compulsion was to let it be, or rather cut a pact

Being a man who is viewed as happy
takes shit even when others call it crappy

For others let me explain first, neither I am a dimwit
nor a sombre carcass, rather all that stays is just a hitch

A hitch to take which road,
difficult for a man who believes in truce
Who thinks hatred is better killed than making evil spiced up with spruce

The problem is not only me but with him as well
I know you are right at the right's end
while it could be seen that wrong would be a better find

Maybe that was what help me to my sanity
or I could have clawed you with anonymity
Not a word would have been said not an eye blinked
I am good at killing monsters without a sound kinked

You have to learn though
that the words you use are words not walls
the feelings that you conjure are feelings
and not one way letters

I will play truce cause that is how I work
We will be happy and grow together
cause killing is not the only solution
And I am not one who created delusion

Lets soothe out together
and remain partners as birds with the same feather

Cause you know
My goodness is good
With badness a tad better


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Death by choice

Image courtsey: the_wishing_pool_by_moni158

Yes Sahib, be patient soon we will have a view of the lions, said the mahaut (the elephant rider).
Sahib I was atleast in these woods and it felt good to be called so.

It was sheer cooperation that would have been the key.
As the sun became brittle and the westerlies were still moving we never thought that the jungles would still remain at their enticing best.
A few minutes ago the wind was playing havoc and I never knew that you would be even ready to move out for a round of fun exploring these lions.

You had been crappily irritating, but then that was then.
You nagged and made me realise that hell is very near and it all depends just on the partner you choose.
But yes that was all before.Days have changed is what they say.
I tried my best to not think of those days.

I can hear the birds flying suddenly, the packs circling as if they have the lead of something close.
The simple sounds of monkeys swaying from the gulmohurs is good enough to catch the excitement of any one.And for a group like ours which has been just to savour the pleasure of a lion feasting in front of us, this doesn't seem a wrong moment.
When Anita first told me of this safari I wasn't much excited.
Even the whole idea of trekking in the open on an elephant with just the mahaut and no other safety dint excite me.
She said that this would be our retribution, of going away from the past which was lonesome and scary.
When we had distrust and disregard for days at a a stretch.Maybe this was the reason for which we never had children.

But I never was the one who cheated. It was you and you alone who was with Romy, the so called Ramesh all these days.
On days when I used to cry for her she used to cry with pleasure while lying in the arms of him writhing like a snake.
The shame was too much and maybe the end was too small.
I gave her too much and yet wanted too little.

But after these years she seems to have repented of her sins.And when she asked me to come here I couldn't say no.
And once when I saw these jungles I couldn't say no.Spellbounded by the majestic thicket that they had.Light had diffculty coming down from the dense cacophony of trees.
Land lay moist of the marks of predators we shuddered even to think.And always the tranquil sound of the river flowing nearby.
I immediately fell in love with the place and all over again with Anita.
This was supposed to be my best vacation ever.

I don't know if this excuse was as lame as the others cause yesterday night I saw something which I shouldn't.Somehow her mobile lay near me and the urge was uncontrollable.Even the time when we were together she was virtually with Romy.Even the things I told her were going at the speed of light to him.They were having fun on behest of me.
This was more than enough with me exactly knowing what to do, now.

I had bribed the mahaut enough knowing that there are not many needs of poor men.
Now all that was needed was the arrival of lion.One small push and the rest would be history.Nobody would ever know how and what happened.The only thing known would be a vacation gone terse.
And lo behold what I see is not one lion but a pack of lions raging a war with hunger.
There have been cases of man eating animals and this was evident by the way they were charging towards us.
Just any second from now the lions would have their fill and I would have my revenge.
A small thud it would be and Anita would be what she is, nothing but a dead remorseless body.

Soon,the thud was heard and death was seen.There was a lot of tearing of flesh and gnawing of bones.The beasts showed why they were called the beasts in the first place.
Even before help could come the body was torn beyond recognition.

When the resuce team came nobody could tell what happened cause the plan was buried with the dead man, the man who was the progenitor of death was devoured by death itself.

Anita knew that even a poor man had needs and she had made sure that even his seven generations would live happily.The mahaut dint take time to change sides and to push the sahib off the elephants back.
Cause Anita had given him a lot more than money, she had given him a piece of herself as well on that day,now both were party to the crime.

Written for 3WW for the words: Cooperation, lame and terse


Sunday, March 17, 2013


Image credits: Spark Saw by *Burning2Sleep
See it is just that moment which begins with a spark and this and only this moment which can burn a nation like wildfire.
I was wondering why sometimes words fail me while sometimes unknowingly failure begets poetry.
I was breaking my head bad and mad all over me but whatever I wrote had to be deleted.
Nothing seemed to make any sense to me.It was just void, dull insignificant psychotic void, present but still insignificant.
Something that we all have become.From one angle we all feel  as if we have reached heights but then we all know the hollowness that we still live in.
It was this very moment where sense prevailed over absolution.
Something which came out pouring of my school prayers:
"Where knowledge is free and World has not been broken up.....into dreary desert sands".

I think freedom to think would embroil everything when we would be free to understand freedom.It is a misnomer of sorts, of discussions of debates.
I hate debates nowadays. I debate but I know that my debate is only as strong as the source from which I read my facts from.
And a lot depends on the facts fed into these papers.Cause what are facts but a winners carnage.
Anyways I somehow still am never satisfied by what I ever write.
But sometimes at least it is passable and sometimes people try to pass it and I know it stinks during those times.
But then still atleast still I am able to uncloth the reason of why, why sometimes we can write while sometimes words feel molested, mishandled.
And everything then fits into where t should fit.
It is that spark, that moment which makes the whole sense.
I would be happy if we all could bolster courage to copulate more with these sparks of ours.


Saturday, March 16, 2013


What could actually be more beautiful than this place known as Kasauli.
I don't know what but there is something which just made me feel like going back home.
Not that as I have lived or loved in hill stations. Infact this was a first time for me.
But you see this place had that creepy smouldering effect on me as if I belonged here.

You could sniff the clouds right through your room inching from the windows.
A dab of freshness always lighting your rooms.
That cup of tea which tasted as the biggest single malt ever conjured. I remember those strolls clearing the clouds as I moved further.
My detours into the cobbled lanes. Breakfast being made on order. The luscious roads.
A place which made me feel that you don't need people to make you happy but happiness alone would make you happy.
I was not only reading my choicest of books on those mountains but all the books buried inside me were fluttering to come out.
The place made me realise the writer I was.
The long walks where I contemplated with nature and we both teamed up against me made me realise the beauty of solitude.

The railings still fresh with dew filled moss would make a killing for a location.
The place made me realise the traveller I was.
Of lands unknown of souls untouched.
Sitting with the locals and chatting over topics unknown.

Death was never so young and life never so morbid,
See there are times when you feel that insignificance is the highest level of significance.
That was one of those times.

I realized once more that you don't need a god to tell you what ought to be done but it is you and you alone who will be taming these so called gods and demons alike cause none of them ever existed and would never will.

You know how it feels when the distance rings of the songs that you never knew but always enjoyed, when peace prevails and you dont know that things existed, which could eat your fears your aspirations.
Days when you realise that there are things and people and feelings better suited better booted.
When you realise that you have a bigger calling than whatever big you ever dreamt of.
That was one of those days.

Kasauli we will meet more often.


Thursday, February 28, 2013

sidekick's lifetime

Image courtsey:'The rocket bile' by Zafs91
Life has been a sickening sidekick all along.

I cant fathom whether it is the joy of working, or waiting for constant reshuffles.

Whether it was the incorrigible studying where layer by layer I was peeled.
Starting from the start where every class was worshiped and every exam dreaded. I hated going to school at 8:00 in the morning, entering late just to be kept waiting in the ground for the prayer to be over and then the public shame of running in the field.
Slowly the dread turned into distrust and then into arrogance.
I never knew when I left studies.The thirst got doused albeit instantly.
It was just a simple rising when I wanted to study no more.The classes progressed as usual, my age multiplied with the same clanks but the only difference was that I dint study any more.
Looking back I think that I was intelligent atleast to sail through cause I actually sailed through.
I saw friends being completely written off while some of them standing at pedestals which were considered so big that we saw them as cheap.
But somehow I survived.
Life moved on but the ailing sidekick still grew stronger.

Love, it was even a bigger vice. 
It shone its head whenever it got chance and I with open arms kept on getting bitten by it only for the sheer pleasure of the process.The process which itself was so finicky and so unplanned that the subtle chaos kept me on toes.I even loved the prospect of crying as it kept me grounded in a dream world.
My heart changed hands many summers.
For most of the parts I kept on pushing it from table to toes.
People rarely seemed interested in what they were holding, sometimes they even forgot that this small thing was supposed to be pumping blood in someone's veins although naughty in its forbearance but still the progenitor of life.
But then I was happy just with the fact that it was moving and hence could pump more of the elixir.

Maybe this wasn't the end.Job changed hands. Sometimes for good and sometimes for bad.I kept on converting the sad times to happiness.The conversion was so varied that one presence almost paled the other. Scams and sagas were written all over.Job security became a misnomer and uncanny abilities a reality.But with this came new people new friends and new love.
Adored stranded and uncalled I took everything.
This again delved deeper into phase 2 of my studies.
But then this was something that I loved and for this I had my sword all cleaned and brandished.
I had sharpened and filled my quiver long enough to last till the end of Duryodhana's deatha and Arjuna's penance.
This was the time when melancholy too started feeling happy.

Time seems to have moved a 360 degree turn again.
All has always been so fast that rarely I ever thought about them.
Maybe because of this I never cared and before the impact could happen I moved on to a newer realm.
But now when I sit stay and think I realize that this unceremonious exit, this winding end that distant dream were everything which cut the pain, tranquilize the soul.

Makes me realize now that this sickening sidekick has been a companion however much I hate it.
Only this effervescence would be permanent.

So once again I don my cape and tie my robe to go disorient some one with my fidgeting sickening sidekick.

Written for 3WW : This week's 3WW are Douse, Naughty, Pale

Sunday, January 13, 2013

The hero

Courtsey: The Warrior ~by Nuhuup

I seriously thought that the race was over.trophies spluttered the drawing rooms of those odious clans.
All this happened when I kept on walking in the empty rows collecting scrumps of food left by viewers who had been watching the race.
This day was not any different.after my mental scribbling I folded my baricades to sanitise myself again to victory.
This was then that somehow I felt anguished on the death of heroes.and it was not heroes alone who were dead,but also dead were the romantics,the go getters and the idealists.
The gentleman I once knew who offered his seat to ladies,his smile to kids and support to the needy now acted as if grotesqued by his own appearence.

He seemed dead now.

But then why had I killed him,maimed him beyond recognition.
His sautered wounds still throbbing kept glancing those awkard silences at me.
And then I realised that this day had to be different and not only different but awesome.
Why should I think myself as a second fiddle to myself.the bromide has caught me too soon and too much.
But now it had to die and not me.

Enough is a word which when used threatningly can make one reach unimaginable proportions.
Now I had everything although with crippled limitations but even then everything.then why now I don't romance the way as the protagonist of those movies.why I don't find myself as the leader moving further in his office but as a man who would wait for instructions to be thrown at.

The time has come for me to die and for the hero to rise again,from my ashes,yes if he demands so but then he has to rise, alone.


Saturday, January 5, 2013


Courtsey:-sanity is dead by Vickie666

"What are we with the end of end.said he as he silently moved out of the room."

A disbelief froze in front of the tyrants,of those who lived on poaching ideas,succumbing to asymmetric synergies.

A bigger question now gapes through the wound.Has it to be perfection that will control happiness or is it the half satiated ego always yearning for more.

Is it the greed,the lust which has consistently pulled us off our tethers or is it the same irrevocable lust, the sneering disdain which would eventually keep us sane.

Soon it was felt that sanity was the most disillusioned word ever created.

In the garb of sanity we as a collective are promoting the lack of action.action which has been lost over the horde of thoughts.where when every night we tuck ourselves in bed with the satisfaction that we have achieved what we could have.we have belied what was ours.

The one line had spoken volumes and if even know we are proud to be sane then nothing can actually move us,from this death.




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