Thursday, 25 December 2008

The Way of the Rain

The rain finds a way
Through shattered, broken windowpanes,
And cracks in the ceiling.
Through keyholes in the walls, and
Peeling white plaster.
Through the doors that only open for some.

It makes its way
Through borders and barbed wires
That can’t be bought or cut.
Through places with names we can’t pronounce,
And gaps in praying hands
Maybe open or closed,
Lifted to the sky.
Sliding down your neck and chin,
Into your bosom.
Through the song of the bird that,
Has learned to sing.

And it will come,
From the news in the television and
Songs on your radio.
From mouths and eyes that refuse to shut,
From the crevices on your skin
Bones that are dried but not hollow.
And through the wind that blows
Across these shores,
The rain will find a way,
Drown the sentries of your heart.


And when the evening arrived,
The mountains rolled down.
That was how the avalanche was started
With just a kick,
To a pebble.


Don’t preach
What you can’t do.
Everything that goes in circles
Will come back to you.

The Middle

There is no void
Or gap.
There are no cracks.
For you come,
In the middle of everything.

Sang Tarash

I feel proud
Of what I’ve created
How it has been
Loved, lost and hated.

The Stain

In every white,
I can see your black.
And like a nostalgic stain, or,
An unforgettable
Tear in your dupatta
You’ve always been there.
At a distance,
Looking at me
You can’t be erased.


When excuses turn into stones
We get
Thoughts of freedom
In our head.


Are like rivers.
They flow into the ocean
And get lost.


Once I saw a girl
In the rings of smoke
And I realized that time forgets
The secrets her lips hold.

Wednesday, 10 December 2008


Thus came Zarathustra

and emerged victorious from the bathroom.

How pathetic.


Some days back in Mumbai, producer Ashoke Pandit and director Shashi Ranjan took out a rally demanding Pakistani artistes not to be given any work in the entertainment industry, threatening to disrupt shootings wherever Pakistanis are employed.

Blatant jingoism, celebrity candle marches with feigned speeches at the end, sudden hatred for politicians and new found love for the Indian army...

A terrorist attack is a terrible thing to waste.

Wednesday, 3 December 2008

Simple Man

I am a simple man

Who finds it hard to tell his grandmother

He loves her.

But you should do it

Before it gets too late.


There lies a magical land beyond these barbed wires

It's true.

A place full of toys and miracles

And other kids that call out your name.

We'll know for sure when

We cross over to the other side.


Sometimes I feel dumb

Gullible and naive

duped by the world.

Remember the time I played Othello in that play?


I wish we could grow old together.

Because I already bought that house in the hills

And now I don't know what to do with it.


Only I know for sure of the times I've been a real asshole.

Like when you bought me a birthday cake,

and I ran.


Sometimes it sucks but,

It's good when people don't point out my good habits.

That way, I won't lose them.

If I am an alien, I wish for my mother ship to come and pick me up just about


Monday, 1 December 2008

A Night In These Shoes

Sometimes I feel like a glass bowl falling off a table, breaking into a million pieces. And you would come and put me back together, make me new.

I think I just heard my grandmother coughing really loudly. Its 2:30 am at night. There is no place lonelier than this bed.

Today I laughed so much I had tears in my eyes.

Hello, I think you’re beautiful. Bet you’ve heard that before.

Later on, I tried to call her on her birthday but she didn’t pick up the phone. Now my birthday is round the bend and I strangely wish for her to do the same, and not say a word.

Last night I woke up with a jolt from a bad dream and saw a silhouette of a large man standing at my bedroom door.
I never realized how tall my brother is.

Today I took a picture of myself and could not decide why I’m not photogenic. Maybe it’s because whenever I smile in front of a camera, it’s never real.

Today I sat in a room full of microphones and didn’t speak. But I am happy. This is who I want to be. I wish I could tell you. I wish you could see me now.

Sunday, 30 November 2008

Strange Daze

Today the sky looked like it had Johndis...(is that the correct way to spell it??)...Johndiz, Jhondiss, John-dhish! What a weird word.

And I felt like a fat string on C sharp tuning being struck with with chord forms, i dont know where the abuse was coming from...but it was there, maybe in my own head...i dont know.

Never before have i seen so much death and disease around my house and in the world outside...its so easy to kill and even easier to point a finger, maybe soon these things will take over our ability to think if they havent already, but i hope that never happens.

What do i say now? Dont want to say the obvios so i shall refrain, practise discretion which was given to me by those around me...thank you for the venom, fuckers.

Porn wont take you far, reality is stranger...try getting off on that.

And here's a something about the weather that Nagma did not predict...winters will be colder this year.

Friday, 28 November 2008


Naked, you are
Someone you are not
When clothed.

You let it slide,
The garb that hides
Seashore lines, apple’s crescent
I watch the moonlight shining,
Clinging to your skin in darkness, where
There is nothing left to peel.

And I’m doused
In every inch of you.
Lazy quicksand, beautiful
When my breath on your navel
Moves those little snails,
They crawl and shy away inside.

My fingers trace the dawn to come,
As we smile and hum our songs of tomorrow.
When all finalities are reached
And the banalities approved, avoided
We are left but final with ourselves
Naked, under a blanket.

And after all premonitions have
Come to pass, you
Ask to be moulded
Made new,
My hesitant muse.

But naked, you take,
A different shape
From your disguise.
Like sand from an hourglass,
In my hands.

Thursday, 27 November 2008


Let me in
I have been waiting
By your door
Lose control
Give out, give in

Hold me down, I’ve been running
Though these steps won’t take me far
For I find you everywhere I go
In words and rhymes and deepest scars

I am blue like your skin
Like the bruise that raids
And burns your smile.
And I am back where I

Square one
The rain,
You know,
That sort of a thing.

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Song of the Sparrow

Running through your words,
I can see where
I’ve been coming from.
I run through my streets just the same
With a different shade.

Swimming in your skies
I can say I belong to a stranger place.
It’s not the same
From such great heights.

I was there beside you when
You saw the field burn.
I was hovering around you when
They took the statues down.

Mama don’t run from
The voices in your head.
When they throw you in a room
Make you confess.

Father be good
To you daughters and sons
Your quivering hands were never meant
To guide that bullet in the gun.

You say, ‘what of the rats
That ruined my brother’s meal?’

Don’t you know by now?
Painted fingers
Don’t always spell change.
But the hands that have none
Shall write me down again.

Fear That Gives Us Wings

Everyday, the same
Shouting at the sky
Feel my heart collide
With her to break.

Everyone, the same
I can’t tell you what I’ve been doing
You, who goes to sleep at 11:00 pm,
With you I laugh.

I won’t get to sing with the man upstairs
And my songs will never rhyme
Or slide on my tongue.
I won’t get to dance with the girl downstairs
No one stops this rain, a picture in my head.
Spiral web, my spiral web
Poems in my dream that you took
None on my page.

Reasons are blossoming outside my window
Too far, they can’t be plucked
And made my own
Because you want them back.
You want it all back.

I am not ready for the fall
But I know it is fear that Gives us wings.

Wednesday, 12 November 2008


Here time waits for you to pass,
Prayer flags mutter your name in tune with the leaves.
And the fireworks arrive just in time
They point a finger and mirror your eyes.

Dancing down the valley, you
Crept closer during conversations
Your hands grew rough as we carved
A road through that hill.
I waited at the turn
For strangers that never came. Though,
Echoes were heard
And songs were sung,
The setting sun got the better of us.

Remember how we learnt to laugh at
Locks at chains and similar things?

An old man with trees’ roots and maps
And blue of your skin that showed me the way
I was lost in your world, in forgotten cities.
But now the silence of the sun, that
Yawns, aches and rises to find
The candle has melt, the smoke is gone
And maybe a dog
Still waits for us by the waterfall.

(photo by Priyani...thank you)

Thursday, 6 November 2008


I say love, it has taken too long for
Me to find hopes and miracles, but you
Built a nest, kept it all safe

Maybe I never leave, I just keep
Drawing circles, raising walls to make
You stay. But I’m not here, I disappear

Just A Whisper

Silence lives beyond those doors
It answers no one but speaks
To some. I too, have tried to chase
That smile but it fades like
Water from seashores after the
Waves are gone.

Maybe we are but pawns trying to
Be kings or queens. Shake us when you
Hold that tree and we will come down
Swaying in the wind like an autumn leaf.
Call to us through the fog, we shall sing
And serenade, as you please.

This song is not the last time I
Hold my head down and confess, like
Graffiti on the wall which no one will read,
If you have run all your life, it should be
Easier to walk.

Thursday, 30 October 2008


I think I think too much. I think I feel too much. I think I can’t run when I do.

I think I have to start again. I think I am getting tired of it. I think I will do it now.

I think I am uninspired. I don’t think anymore. I think I will be replaced.

I think I am a dreamer. I think that’s not allowed.

I think I believe in miracle drugs. I think she has no faith in medicine.

I think I just do what I am told. I think they are always right.

I think I have always been too quiet. I think I want to scream.

I think I am wrong. I think its okay.

I think I still need you sometimes. I think you are not coming back.

I think I will give up. I think I will get up again.

I think I am not going to die now.

I think poetry is still there in me. It runs through my veins. It beats through my heart. It breathes through my lips. It drips from the nib and the pen will never run dry.

I think I am not afraid to try. I think you are. You always have been.

I think I am passive no more. I think I love you. I know.

I found my inch. I am keeping it.

Friday, 24 October 2008

Song to Say Goodbye

Run, like magnets
On the wood
Slide like paper off the wall.
Fly, like wishes in
The wind
Out of the frame, the box.

This new hurt
Is unlike anything
You scratch the itch
Peel like second skin.
And lately, I have
Come undone
Like her dress
A ball of string.

Take a dive,
My paper plane
You’ve learnt how to soar.
Teach me, and
I will try
To not follow you anymore.

You will sing this
Just the same,
Moving pictures in my mind.
Chase me
An umbrella in
The rain
I’m not too far behind.

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

Passing Through

Certain strange things
That make me want to cry.
The fresh smell of newly cut grass
My grandmother’s skin
Top of a baby’s head

I know its time to go when
The ground is yawning at my feet.
But I smile,
Not tell anyone.

I think of you
When the shadows become longer
And the fire dies down
When the night is awakened
And no one is around.

In the morning,
Not easy when,
I’m alone with myself and,
My hand goes out to touch you,
But you’re not there.
It’s just the summer breeze
Passing through.

Thursday, 16 October 2008


Pure poetry, she
My grandmother in her sleep
Yes and no and yes.
War and truce.

Her belly,
The tides with,
A whirlpool in centre
Skin is pale and has lines that stretch
Like a newly washed shore
The waves gone.

And like the water
She is not of the same shade
From afar.

Her eyebrows,
Scattered sea shells today
That glisten like pearls they hide
From the sun.

The stories that rage
When it rains
Come alive
Where she takes nothing in
And gives back sunken treasures
From her heart that grows weary
But beats, still.

Sunday, 5 October 2008

new leaf

Brain :''...initiate the 'angry young man' phase.''
Heart :''OKAY''

The Rambler

Anti social
You’re soaked with touch.
I think I’ve had too much here,
Bodies glide in a silent room,
Silhouettes wait for midnight,
Some for the after noon

And who’s seen you?
You who were born in the rain
I remember everything
The swell and the shade
Of your dress
You tears and shouts
In darkness

I don’t want forgiveness or sympathy, for I am not sorry for anything. And maybe I am scared because, I think it would have been easier to, converse if your face was cloaked by hair, but know for sure that I was always willing to try. And in a room full of strangers I will never act my age (for what is my age?), maybe just maybe you’ll see that the only thing that scares you the most is what you have inside. It may come true like something that lasts.

And maybe you will change you mind
Maybe everything will be okay
After tonight.


Looking at photos of people you don’t know is easier…they are not that different from people you know in photographs though. They are smiling, laughing, making funny faces, holding hands, pulling someone, hugging, touching, leaning, sleeping, jumping etc just like your friends in photographs, but its okay to look at someone and not remember anything because you don’t know them and you probably never will. It’s easier when something that freezes time doesn’t remind you of anything.

Writing everyday is hard. How did the others do it, others who are dead and long gone? If not anything, I guess it’s important to be in love. I guess it’s important to feel something…anything. I believe we should just keep burning forever with some emotion or desire. But burn too much and it will make you weak.

I wish I could walk away from most things that have departed from me. I guess sometimes it’s hard to accept that the closer you get to something, the farther it moves away from you. Ever felt like a magnet with its poles reversed, like you attract nothing? But sometimes you should let things go. Maybe people just want to be free. Maybe I am very uninspiring and never give anyone a chance to stay or remember something I said. I just don’t know anymore.

There was a time not long ago when I saw heart attacks, apocalypse, end of the world, but I stopped thinking about it (…stop thinking about it!!)

It hurts to think that to some it doesn’t matter at all. A sense of loss is just a slight glitch in their life, just a minor alteration, and they deal with it perfectly. Why the hell am I such a nervous wreck without any confidence whatsoever? Why do I keep holding on? Why do I need a confirmation or an affirmation of the pain inside being physically manifested in the real world? Why can’t I do anything about it? I am not that old but I guess I am tired of starting again and again from the same point. No, it’s NOT ‘beautiful’.

Advices stop meaning anything when you just don’t want to listen. Advices don’t mean anything when you know they won’t help. Time doesn’t heal everything when it is time itself that reminds us of what caused the hurt in the first place.

They call me a dreamer. They say I give them hope. Why do I keep none for myself?

The festive season is on and I feel more alone than ever. I feel like no one wants to come and see me and I am only running after people…could my mother be right? The subtleness of Eid will soon give way to the chaos of Diwali and after the fireworks will die, the dim lights of Christmas will shine in the night. All this will soon wash away and the only thing that will be left will be the silence of the coming year. But where will I be on these days and what will I do?

Maybe I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Maybe I just keep telling myself the exact same thing because I am here every year. Maybe nothing has really changed. I just don’t know anymore.

Monday, 29 September 2008

Remember Me

Like rain at my porch
You will shade me of many things
To come

Without a sound
We come tumbling down
The hill we seldom climbed
Not tell anyone.

And our voices glide
When the clocks mutter midnight
Then you’re left with making faces.

You’re slow and wild
Just like a child.
Never tamed
With a name
For all your places

And I’ll wait
For you to come
It has begun.
I can see the end is near.

When one day
You will learn to fly
All I’ll ask
Set them free
Teach me how to land,
Remember me.

Sunday, 28 September 2008

Remembering You

Show me pictures of yellow streets
And all your walls
Without a name

I want to see your city shining
In shades of white
I want to see it dressed
With red lights

I want to dance
In all your haunts
Hear stories from old men
Then lose my way.

Remind me that happiness
Is still worth its weight in gold
Find me
In blue of the night
Within bodies that shouldn’t be sold.

Spin this path
Like my grandmother’s hair
Black and white with a little brown
Take me to your lost green land
Where I’m waiting to be found.

Last Life

Your name
Comes to me
In silence
When we talk
Or maybe that’s
Not who you are.

Lately, I have been away
It seems that I have gone astray.
I am chasing shadows in the dark.

You know I swim
Then I drown
We are always either
Lost or found.

On someone else’s page
Through better days
Hold our breath and stand aground.

The roads point
In the same direction
This merge is nothing new.
Look up to the sky and
Find your reasons
Coming back to you

Or take me as I am
Before we fall away
When words refuse to speak
And I lose myself.
Into your eyes,
Off your smile
Another black and white
Empty space.

Sunday, 21 September 2008


No more shards to
Piece what is broken.
It came from below when I
Wasn’t looking

And to see you now is to
Wait for winter
To kiss the rain
That slides away.

In the middle of
This page
On my mirror
And these walls and,
Teacups and conversations
Alive, breathing, in
Every street I walk.

It seems that you are in the way.

In my eyes, words repeat,
Fall and wither.
Not make sense,
This web won’t mend, but
You will heal.

And if they ask,
I will tell the others of
The songs in your heart
Without a tune

There are some things
We must feel, but
Never know.

Saturday, 13 September 2008

Me. Now.

Should we tear this body in two?
Watch it become separate
Like chromosomes divide?
See the ashes flow in the river
Sing it like you have to hide.


I was spinning dreams on a wheel
When a butterfly crashed
On a glass
Beating its last wings.

Then the powder rose
And fell like dust
Over the tint, after which
A sound was heard below a din

And as the candle flickered to show us the way,
We let some wax
Run down our chin.

Familiar song?

They hurt
They sting
They burn
The shards that remain
As you come and fall around me
Tell me you wish for this to end.

The Way You Were Before the Way You Are Now

It’s a quiet world,
This city life
Where no one sings today
And you cast your webs
For no one’s eyes
You come down with the rain.

Lost in a haze of silhouettes
In the clocks that keep time
You light another cigarette
Wishing the reasons would rhyme.

And though you’d rather be somewhere else
With someone else by your side
You’re going to tell yourself it’s alright
You will tell yourself it’s alright.

Saturday, 6 September 2008


You tear a smile
You wear a shoe
What am I to do?

You wait a while
I am into you
Well what am I to do?

The spoils of war
These battle scars
The future won’t make you
Who you are.

The folds in your dress
Make me lose myself.

You count the reds
Now pull the thread.

The lights shine over you, down
The king of yesterdays
Turned my heart out.

And till we swerve, we never blink
Swallow the same wave
Ring the same nerves
Get distorted again.

And when I tell her
I am over this,
She wonders
Could she take it all back?
The sounds heard before a crash.

Thursday, 28 August 2008


go away.

there is no poetry left.

Wednesday, 20 August 2008


...Can we depart without saying a word?
Some goodbyes are seldom seen
They say some are never heard.
To hide away all that you've got,
Sometimes there is no hollow ground.
There is a reason we are lost...
And there is a reason we are found.


And you, on a canvas
Rising like smoke
Still in bloom
After spring has passed us by.

I saw you run
In shoes that barely fit
White mask with
A painted smile.

And when you melt
With a little touch
Draped in red
The colour becomes you.

The Right Name

Take these eyes
And make them see.

Take these hands,
Break their chains.

Take these words
And make them breathe.

Rid the distance
Shimmer any other way.

Take this pen and make it run.
Tread every soul
And every soil.

Take this body
Divide it in two.
Take what you find
If it may be of some use.

Take my mouth
Make it sing.
And make it give.

Sometimes I need to feel I’m falling

Break this heart
But make it live.

Tuesday, 29 July 2008

The Bends

Take a bend in the road
Said I can save it for tomorrows.
And when the story is done, you,
Pull open the curtains
Watch the sun dissolve.

I will take this and more
All the colours and
The residue of the night
Still fresh on your tongue.

In the end
If it can be called that,
I know we
Can’t always be the same
Our own worlds we have
To decipher.

Abul Fazal Sky

Here we live
Look up
Scattered bruises in the sky…no,
Vivid brushstrokes on a blue canvas
Purple, white and lovely pink
Quaint orange and an unthreatening red too
In streaks and patches
These tread marks of rain
Over Abul Fazal
Where we live.

Wrong if you say
Everyday is the same.
Sometimes words don’t do you good
When shades are your only friend
May I borrow this palette?

Monday, 7 July 2008

After Miracles

Today I wish to leap out of your shadow
You who I have followed for so long
Observe the night with all its stars
Aligned together like children holding hands
In other words, be where you are.

I don’t know from where I began
From a path I was on before I was lost.
From a hill or a waterfall, from a storm or a dive
From a tree or a vine
From a wheel or a shoe.

Or maybe from sunrise through a valley
A smile behind a veil, a whisper
In this world,
All beautiful things are hidden.

My eyes grow weary looking around
Where I’ve been
At times I’m tired of talking.
Sometimes you’re tired of being a man.

Today I wish to be hung,
Like stories on a wire
Where we will sway easily
Like clothes in the wind
Till we are dried of all our tears.

Monday, 30 June 2008

Prime Time

Breaking news
Is what we want to see.
Dramatic reconstruction of
Events for my children to understand
What went wrong or,
What went on
Behind closed doors
In the middle of the night.

Re-arrange the events
Tell a good story
Get everyone on screen.
That one, there, he looks suspicious
Hiding behind a policeman
Staring at the camera
I believe he has something to say.
Something he knows.

Show me every picture of a bloodstain
In every corner, dark ones too
Don’t leave out anything.
Tell us everything.

It’s not very often
That my entire family sits together
To watch the TV.


I see through you
Falling off the page
Never thought I’ll care
For someone who was
Caught in the words
He never thought he will utter.

Through you, I see
What happened before.
And in your face,
I try to trace
The stories I’ve heard
Others repeat again and again.

I see you through
When it all falls away
Nothing to do but
To let the steam rise
As I strain my tea
And watch you become
The evening news.

Jamun Seller

Purple fingers
Is the first thing
Anyone will notice
About you
Next are your yellow eyes
They’ve seen many transactions
Carried out between you and
Hordes of hungry and scratchy children
Lucky with two rupees
Then there is your small basket
Balanced atop your trusty cycle
Filled with Jamuns
Almost hidden, but,
Peeking through
Waiting to be devoured
With a little masala.

Its funny how,
They’re the first thing
We want from you but,
They’re the last things we see.

Me & Myself

This is how it is
Sitting at the corner of the table
Coming undone
In strands of skin
Wishing you could prove Freud wrong.

Today I ran into my former
He never listens
Wears a face I don’t like
Blinks often and never smiles.

Tell, my lonely friend
Are we lost for a reason?

Monday, 16 June 2008

While You Were Gone

Through the nets I see,
Life wade in water.
The uneven sea is perfect
For football and curses
Till we drown,
But we wait for the rain.

Patience drives you crazy like
Something unrequited, when
All you want is what
You need but will never get.

But you, on the outside
Breaking into a run or stuck
In slow motion like you sometimes are.
Seeing red, glasses crashing with
Poetry and your love for plans
Wish I could turn into you
Or take you far.

And you never say,
But the hints in your
Eyes, maybe silent complaints
This is why I have no stories
To tell, for I bring
You this from my room.

Friday, 13 June 2008


...maybe trying to get away from yourself is slightly different because usually people are kidding themselves when they say that…what they really want to do in such times is get away from where they are or from others…the worst thing about being lonely is that there are so many things one has to come to terms with…so many things that you have to tell yourself…things that you can choose to ignore more often that not…this process can be very cathartic if you are want to be…its killing me because I am not…wow…I actually sound almost sure of what I’m saying…could have made it sound more suave than usual. But this is how it is in my head these days…can’t find a better song…I’m already wishing for winter…clarity is the need of the hour…I hate it when I’m uninspired.

While the Smoke Settles

Light a cigarette
Pseudo intellectual
Try to look like someone
And I,
Have no place to hide.
Just a rogue in the balcony
Outer space
Trouble on my mind.

In my room
The things I used to love
The letters she never meant to write
But she did.
And I did too.

In my eyes
The things I’ve saved,
Laughing, blinking

And you
Nod once
Look up when it rains
Drops hit your face
Make you beautiful.
The love we made
Is the weather
No shelter can shade.
I see clouds gather
And you
Wish I’d walk.


Let it come like a road
Winding alongside white lines
Changing lanes
Turning yellow
Out of the dark, into
New stories of what you find
When you’re alone.

Let it come like a smile,
Bad with timing and
Right on cue.
When you do the same in
A crowded room
When you’re sure we share
This secret.

Or let it come like the rain
Without a reason and arms outstretched.
Making pictures that rid the haunt
Of crimes and mistakes, washing away
The things that make us hide.
Within the tedious action
When you part your lips and
Bat your eyes.


And from the dark – ‘murder’!
Cried she when the streets, they bled.
In the moonlight, beautiful, and she ran
Her fingers through the shimmering red.

You should have heard the haunting sound
Of laughter proceeding plans insane
When Sweeney smiled with a glint in his eye
‘At last! My arm is complete again!’

I won’t rest till every throat is dry
But oh my friends, patience…patience
All those who’ve wronged shall be tried
Served and tasted cold, sweet vengeance.

Judges may preach but there are lessons to teach
To this city full of filth that hides many things.
Every drop of tear on my hands will be
My reason to find joy in the hurt I bring.

Tuesday, 27 May 2008


Morning. Weird bad dreams about losing Mishmi and finding myself in a totally new way but not like I want to. Woke up with the 'Tuesday blues'. I actually thought its Wednesday today. I thought again for a moment that I'm turning into my father so i should listen to my mother more often but i don't really want to because i don't sometimes like what she says or thinks but anyway, thats everyday so lets just forget about it. I thought I suck at guitar and should learn to play like Omar but I somehow just can't bring myself to do that...really wish I could write a song that I would be able to sing when I am alone with myself...really wish I'd friends who I could make up an entire band with but fuck it. Euphoria. Hell. Hell. Hell. I am bored. want something new to do. Anything. Actually, something else. Change of pace. Different plans. New plans. No 'plans'.

The only thing that's making me go on for this week is the thought of where I'll be next week at the same time. The only thing I am totally sure about right now is where I want to be. I don't think I've longed for Monday so much before.


Look outside to the streets to see the seasons change

Beneath your window, the things that wait

The road disappears, singing, and you

Hum and mutter the songs you wrote.

That same hurt, unknown, alone, unnamed

Behind the word, hiding

Raids your mind like wounds you hide.

Forces a tear, makes you smile.

And until it wears you out, like

The moment you turn and forget about the time

You danced and were beautiful when you said

The world moved with you

Well, you are and it still does.

Tuesday, 13 May 2008


Sometimes within,
The answers kill, like
A cold day in Delhi.
Like the summer heat when we
Search for solutions
Or wish for it to rain.
When nothing turns out the way it
Seems or sounds or rhymes in your head.
Nothing happens the same way twice.
When you’re broke and loose and can’t
Pick and choose between what
You want and what you need.
Between sweet sin and terrible greed.
When outside, every other voice has got
Something for you to prove.

When everyday is not the same
But you find the songs you remember and love have
Gotten old.
When discretion has been practised enough
But it leads nowhere.
Just like sympathy, which you get when you lose it.
And when you think you
Have no stories to tell but you’re happy with
The one you’re in. Oh well,
Lets take water over wine.

Thursday, 8 May 2008

Rambling Without A Cause

Read the news…let it fill me. I need happiness. No a warm gun. I am not feeling like this is the end. But I feel rather like this is the beginning of a nasty chapter.

Season’s changing…heavy breeze…some icebergs melt-a band sings about it in a concert, a few hundred tigers and elephants are poached, some protesters are killed in Lhasa for crossing the line, politicians snore as the bill is passed in the parliament, some cry and shout and try to disrupt the proceedings but some just keep on sleeping , America invades and bombs another village whose name it can’t pronounce, more Qassams rain down on Israel, more Palestinians are killed…no one will ever know.

The fat man lights a cigar, price for oil is set, the deal is signed, camera bulbs flash, the ‘clink’ of wine glasses are heard, the nib of the pen breaks, the ink spills over and fills the page, blots it, they shake hands, calls are made that we need another war; he nods as a sign of approval.

The world is not a happy place…my face doesn’t don a smile now as I’m getting to know things that gathered dust before my very eyes…things I had ignored and hadn’t pondered about. Little angry, little irritated, anxious about this and everything. Scared that this won’t turn out the way I want it to. Like all those times you feel really happy…on top of the world with your little accomplishments when you’re kid…’oh, I climbed the tree today’…’I scored high marks in the maths test’….’today I won the race’…’merit card’….’box of candy’….it sure feels like a million bucks then. Times like these, no matter how young you are, you always imagine yourself as something else, someone else, bigger, better…something you WANT to be. Now when I look back on those times and think to myself what I wanted to be then…I realise I am none of those things.

Is David Bowie right? Have we only got five years to live? To save this earth…? Please don’t let this be true. There are so many other things which should be.

If happiness was a paper, I would roll it into a ball and keep it in a box…keep it safe from fire and others things that may destroy it….leaving behind only ashes.


This sounds very pseudo…unreal…untrue. Maybe I was just kidding myself when I told myself sometime back that this will work…this will help…I should have told you that I am sick of being wrong but I love it when you make me right and show me what is missing…I’ve realized that that is something which is absolutely necessary…in one way or the other…sometimes I want to cry when I am just with myself…your simplicity is untouchable…I feel too complex to be with anyone…maybe I am not but I feel like I will never understand me even though I’ve usually seen that I am like a bad sweater….just pull a string and I’ll come undone. You’re more than anything anyone could ask for…you’re real…something I can touch and feel and hold…you have the answers…I feel stupid that the scar I made on my left arm doesn’t go away but maybe there is a reason for it.

There are so many things I must do and be. I feel scared that I will fail. I am not natural at anything. Music doesn’t move my feet. My hands don’t glide with a brush. They don’t slide on a guitar. I’ve been telling myself and forcing myself to write poetry since class 8 and maybe that’s why I’ve gone far with it. But just like everything else, there are many things I must explore and make something my own…many doors remain unopened still.

And you told me to laugh…well, now I am laughing…but there’s no one around to hear it…I am not angry I just feel alone…do you hear it…can you hear it…?


Wish I could sew,
Stories together
The distance
Fill it like valleys where
Rivers run.
All our days,
The things we know.
The places we’ve been to

Time itself.

The same way
You sow
Pieces of clothes
Without poetry
And call it work
Then, prick your finger,
And smile.

Friday, 2 May 2008


Call the sun vacant,
Long for the starry skies.
When the mind is made of happy numbers
Like riddles lost in your eyes.

Dancer, you move like I can’t sing,
But these songs in my head…
Whisper your laughter slow, run
Go outside and breathe the air.

Fancy, this house of cards
Till nether winds pull it apart.
Who knows?
But until that day…
I’ll draw circles and be where you are.

Lost Again

I’ve made friends with
Places that I can’t touch,
And faces that ask too much,
I’ve made it all my home.
Names that I forget
Smiles that I regret
I’ve sung this all alone.
And sometimes I don’t know what to do.
To walk down this line
To tame what is mine
Only to be with you.

Tuesday, 22 April 2008

To A Lost Friend

No wind to shake
The trees tonight.
Just some leaves
Doused in yellow.
And the half moon
Like a child, cradled,
Is going down, down
Too far to see.

There were times when
You never asked.
Looked the other way
Said you couldn’t believe.
Cast your nets around
For someone else’s eyes.

Then I get to thinking
Of degrees
And the walls that divide.
I remember you,
Ugly, once
Beautiful, thrice.

Monday, 21 April 2008


Away, in your wings
Away, like stories
When your lips part.
Away, like music
When you touch.
Away, like secrets
When your eyes are drawn.
Pretend, or
Take me away.


Last time that I ask
What will you do?
With this ball and chain,
When the road becomes the rainbow?
And all that we once built,
Takes a different hue.
Out of cue,
Out of time, again.

Can you think of colours, new?
When two worlds collide
Yours and mine, hands entwined
With two suns going down
In a different place,
At a different time.

Say everything we’ve heard before.
Gone in circles, not so round
Mixed our shades with everyone,
We’re not.
Made us new,
But different, again.

When you slide over like a shade
Your body becomes the floor.
Then you’re the rain
Smiling down on me.
Washing me away,
Into the blue.

And as I lay watching,
Wishing to myself if I could get,
Just a little.
Your face swims in cool waves outside
And the night is black no more.

Wednesday, 9 April 2008


Today, you will not understand

Tomorrow, wait for tomorrow.

But the questions leave me wanting

Waiting, watching, wishing

I knew more.

Like the darkness, you left me

A night with no stars

And I’m still seeking



Till I find my own.

Be Near

Drifting, devoid of shade

But don’t we all?

A thousand teacups ring your name.

Remember when you

Made a corner your home…?

It was there, in that corner

Where your roots took shape.

Forced itself through every wall.

Ran free, like

Rings through your ears

Found me waiting

And took me in.

And all I’ll ask of you

Is to

Be near.

When the night breaks me in two.

And the day finds me again.

Take Me Back

Take me back to the days

When there is mist all around.

Sunlight pierces through to show

Birds resting on the trees.

When smoke hangs in the air

A candle flickers and lights your face.

Take me back to the time

When it rained and we ran for shelter.

Shared a blanket, sang together.

Walked through the night, lost our way.

Traced the footsteps of an old man

Dodged cows, dogs and pitfalls

And home again.

Take me back to the moment

When you close your eyes and

Hold your breath.

Before you laugh and let it go,

To take me back

So I find you there.

Take me back, to all that

And more, like

The things that I forget.

There is no one here to hurt or please.

And the room I’m in leaves me


Though I still hear the birds sing.


It’s been raining bad poetry

All through the night.

It kept me up

And I could not

Hear anything else.

I look and I see,

Infancy, or

A photograph, decade old

Cat’s eyes.

Then you gazing into

The yellow

The white

The black

With one eye closed,

Or open,

I can’t tell.

Your messages

That took from me.

I want it all

Or nothing,

Nothing for now.

Just a few days, live

Only a few miles, try

Temporariness is a funny thing if you think otherwise.

It goes on and on

Like the word itself.

Lonely word.

Monday, 31 March 2008

‘Not the tides’, she said
They recede.
But have you ever walked backwards?
Like they do on ice…
The way back is always
Shorter and easier.
But we should be moving on.
Through silent walks
And histories, morbid
Of cities and kings of long ago
In a place we sometimes
Call our own, our home.


The night passed with my wrist, bent
Not behind your back.
Yellow light on your forehead,
You are

Walked until the end
Just to bid you goodbye
Kept all our promises, new
Crunched every leaf on the road.
Jumped every crack with a smile.

And then I turned to see,
The sun going down.
Leaving me to dream,
Of the next time
We would touch.

I turned back and smiled.
Walked over colours, wild.
‘How far would we go?’
‘How far we’ve come.’


There’s no hiding from the sun today.
The war is won.
The shades are gone.
And in this silence,
I, night, await.
And recall the names writ in stone.

Could you perhaps,
Wash over me?
Wash everything on the inside out,
Unclean, impure
Bandage the wounds.
Then tell me your name,

Death resides in lonely woods,
In us all.
I don’t hear
The bird’s song anymore.
I don’t hear it anymore.
I hear it at the door,
Footsteps and wind.
The one who is not lost,
And it calls me with open arms,

Disarmed, Again

When I’m done with my castles,
I’ll resort to circles, round.
On your face, your eyes, your hands, open wide,
Sans tools, wild – lest you be harmed,
With hammers and chisels of
Every shape and size.
Yet, I’ll break thy mould
And leave you disarmed.
To come unto me,
Undo my chains.
They leave me bound
And gagged again.

Together in the ocean, we shall stir,
A storm unseen and never heard.
Then together, depart to lands of green,
In your eyes, map of the world.

The Red

I am lost in the streets of red.
Like a kite stuck in the tree.
Pillars of white.
The only home for pigeons.

I’m being pulled and pushed
From one eye to the next.
Some strange as strangers.
Some cloaked by a veil.
Smiling, and then looking away
Leaving me with just a song.

Summer and the silver shine
Wires run through all your ears.
Fill to the brim, like tears
In your eyes.
When I think to myself,
Maybe I’m alone.

Friday, 21 March 2008

Not The End, But...

Not the same when the waves get high.
Didn't make these for us, for them.
And I won't let go when you have no songs to sing.
Nothing to lose, promises,
When we sleep as we are, alone.
When you swim through another,
Just the same.
Remember me and the games we played.
The roads we took,
And lost our way.
The things we broke
And the words we shaped.
Watched the sun go down,
There we lay.

If it comes to this,
Of tears, cracks, chasms,
I wont sing this the same.
For there’s a world that waits,
For us to unfold.
And there’s so much,
That remains,

Saturday, 15 March 2008

When It Comes To Distances...

To dream of you and not say a word
But I’ve
Seldom been so sure before
Paper cuts, everything I’ve done.
Mirror’s lies, mother’s sigh
Light the candle,
Watch the road unwind.

Is there trouble now in silence?
Like paper walls and empty halls,
Burn it down.
Break them down.

Down the valley where tears come to an end
Too far down
The places you’ll never see
The things you will never know.
Across the ravines where I found you waiting,
Through the green, where colours collide,
My storm is resting.

Monday, 3 March 2008

Dreams of You

Should I let you slide like the summer sun?

Rise into my hands
And settle like dust.
Come together now
I need to believe.
In circles and other shapes.

The see all wires

And all walls

Every myth destroyed.

And time
Fall apart.

I do.

Breathe into me
Your fire.
Into my cold and catatonic hands.
Your light down on me.
Treat me lazy.
I need that dream with you again.