i see the dead, and i dont lie,
in molten wax, yes i do,
i see the moon , and do i spy?
i sit there, in a glittering cloud, sieve like, thick.
you pass by, i try.
thoughts turn to words, try to
call out, stop, oh wait...
look up, nothingness holds out a caress
i defy, i die,
i see the dead, and i dont lie.

The intellectual is constantly betrayed by his vanity. Godlike he blandly assumes that he can express everything in words; whereas the things one loves, lives, and dies for are not, in the last analysis completely expressible in words.
Anne Morrow lindbergh

simultane..

once again, im pulled back to my thoughts, every few days in a month,
my hormones go topsy turvy,
i curse, i laugh, i scream,
i love, i cry, i dream.
with all the intensity of my being.
one second im giggling with reverbrating puddles of laughter and the other i just shut up.
i feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of thoughts that flit across,
loosing my train of thought uncountable times.
i feel, absorb more, than i would like, or i think i would like.
my memory does not fail me ever. sometimes i wish it would.
i record everything, every little thing.
and the playback is as tormenting as it is enjoyable.
in one second i am at so many different points in my life simultaeously,
handling them all is becoming increasingly difficult.
tiresome, to remember things all the time, every detail.
things others dont remember, i feel like i live in a make believe universe where remeber things, others cant ever recollect.
everything, every person , every object, starts a domino action.
toppling off many memories i want toppled, revisited
as well as some memories that i have with difficuty made to stand.
i admire people who are able to move on, leave each memory, just where it is supposed to be.
in it place, in its right time.
every memory for me exists every time.
i am 18, 21, 16, 20,19,17.... all at the same moment.
all of a sudden i find myself living my life, in different time zones.
i curse, i laugh, i scream,
i love, i cry, i dream.
with all the intensity of my being.

aporia

aporia suspends the most of existence.
dotted lines ready to be torn, punctured, punched at regular intervals.
the lines of bristles of the brush in the whitewash of my wall,
the holes, where cement peeks, ready to be, savoured.
the drip of water down my neck.
the beautiful patterns underwater that reflection makes, and the want to see beauty while trying to live on one gasp of breath.
kohl just on the outline, sharp,
sometimes there is a lot in the mind of a writer, a lot more than never can be interpreted through words, a lot more that needs touch, and still leaves much to absorb, much porosity.
and sometimes there in not as much as one would like to imagine.

sights, smells.

the realisation of my romantic nature came from a completely unthinkable place.

sometimes, beauty unfolds from the most unexpected drab outlets.

and leaves you panting, wanting for more, living in a dream.

in the realisation of the overwhelming capacity of our senses to capture such misty thoughts, sights, smells.

the ground underneath

how easy it is to take things for granted.
how easy it is to never once look back and acknowledge.
imagine waking up in the morning,
sans the bed that you take for granted,
you put your feet down and you realise,
you feet dont touch the ground,
there is no ground, the ground that you take for granted. ...

everyday i go to swim, im learning,
and everyday for an hour, i hope and wish with the purest heart, for my feet to find ground.
i know it sounds trivial, compared to the things that i started to talk about, but after all it only takes a spliter of a match to make a fire..
that feeling, indescribable feeling of not knowing if i will be able to stand back the next time i try to float, is mindboggling, the feeling of not knowing if anyone will come for my help in case i cant stand. and yet everyday, i get in shivering, trusting only the human need and desperation for survival.
and yet in that fear, i try to find peace.
i try to look at the blue when im underwater, and find beauty.
but that silence that comes with it, the depressive realisation that no matter how much you try, how many friends you have, and how much your family loves you, in the end its only with yourself that you have to live.
its only sana who can save me.
and its only her who can drown.

har fikr ko dhuen mein....

" Guilt is a good thing....
it is the price you have to pay for having an honest mind."
- Anonyomus

underwater

the taste of sweet in my mouth, delectable,
swift to melt, swift to bemoan.
the bitter sour taste left behind.
remnants of that once which was enjoyed thoroughly,
but is now nothing but bad breath.
hot air, relieving dead cells, dead thoughts, dead people.
dead souls in my stomach, in my veins.
leeching on my food, my love, my juice.
bewildered particles, left, lost,
desperately trying to find a comfortable hiding spot.
under my tongue.
i hold them, afraid of the vomit, lock jawed.
the nausea overpowering.
dunk me underwater,
relieve me of the sounds of these souls.
relieve me of reality.

खोने की देर है

इतनी करो न हमसे बेरुखी,
ये जान बस निकलने की देर है;
यूं भीनी खुशबू आंखों में समेटे, चले थे हम सभी को अपना बनाने,
अब तो ये आसमाँ बस छलकने की देर है;
इन सपनों के खुले दामन से, तारे चुनते थे हम मुशक्कत से,
उस दामन के अधूरे हिस्सों से अब आँसू टपकने की देर है;
कुम्हलाते हुए लिफाफों में रखे अल्फाज़ गुनगुनाते थे,
हमको अपना राजदार मिल गया था,
उन्हीं झिझकते अल्फाज़ों के अब सिसकने की देर है;
रूह तक छुआ था जिन उन्गलिओं ने,
उनमे बहने, खोने की देर है,
उनके खोने की देर है, ख़मोश होने की देर है......

white nights....

"And was it his destined part
Only one moment in his life
To be close to your heart?
Or was he fated from then
to live for just one fleeting instant,
within the purlieus of your heart."
by Ivan Turgenev

the shade of I

at home, one is never an individual. its always, us, a group of dwellings, a family. its the group dynamics, group well being, that everyone (together) strives for. at home, i was never an individual. always a non entity for myself.
so now, in recoil i indulge in my Individuality (note the capital)
as much as i can, infact even more....
narcissict adopted me as his throne bearer a few weeks back.
i try to understand as much as i can of the person that i am, that i have become, and the one that i want to be, a desperation, which is almost soul as well as sense consuming.
i am the centre of this world, my world, and everthing is judged and measured according to the effect it has on me, or otherwise.
in this process... i have given everything that affects me a much bigger status than it deserves.
while in a conversation i told a friend yesterday...
i absolutely loathe the concept of romanticising everything
but im such a hopeless romantic.... its almost like a disease....

and today on the road, i am looking at my feet, admiring (my) new shoes,
i look up.
and i see so many people. some in cars, some in buses, some walking, some mad, some sane, more mad than sane....
each one, dragging their worlds, their universes.
each one the centre of their cosmos.
after all im only the most ordinary shade of normal.

for public scrutiny

everyone of us. all of us.
have some things you have closed out of your life.
some incidents which after a long time of struggle, you have managed to erase from your memory,
maybe not erase, but at least tuck them in some, ignored corner of your subconscious,
to the extent where, every mention of a certain word, certain name, or certain time may or MAY NOT conjure up an image, or a series of images, so disturbing, that it may whiplash the feeling out of your fingers in a matter of milliseconds.
i repeat... MAY NOT
so now, years have passed.
you are sitting at a perfectly innocent gathering, a small one if you may please,
family or non family, you make the permutations.
out of nowhere, a very close person, the only one or one of the few who may have witnessed, or have known about this incident, rattles it out,
as if the story is meant to satiate their perverse need of having apt amount of attention in a gathering,
or to be the sole entertainer, or just to take credit for something.....
to feel good about themselves.... for a mere moment....
for a mere moment.... the thing you have tried to shove, throw , push so away, that you never have to know, or acknowledge the happening of it, is out, right at the center table with the rest of the gleaming crystal center pieces... opened out of all its folds and knots.. for public scrutiny.
to decide,
whether or not they can get ample entertainment from the story.
stunned.... is merely an understatement.

i give up.
give up this pursuit.

think it over

A poet who reads his verse in public may have other nasty habits.
-Robert Heinlein

if the window was open.

found this image somewhere on the net. so soothing... calming.
nature, as i am increasingly getting convinced is the most effective antidote to any sort of restlessness, or any thought remotely negative.
the warmth of the sun, suddenly appearing out of the november sky,
the sudden burst of cold wind when a vehicle zooms by,
the touch of the first sprinkle of a much awaited rain,
the mud puddles, that i wasnt and am still not allowed to go in, but always manage to sneak in.
the slight chill, that leaves my feet always cold.
the moonlight, that ever elusive, silver blue in the night.
the blow of artificial cigarette smoke, on foggy mornings.
the golden dust particles, that become visible only when a ray of light enters my dark room,
the ray of light that falls pat on my face, just in the morning,
the moon that i can see directly above me from the window, when i lie in my bed at night,
falling asleep, trying to find shapes in the moon that looks wet with dew.
its a pity, that i say this looking out of a shut window, which looks out onto a maze of concrete... thousands of flats. just like mine. thousands of people, with their windows shut, oblivious to any
breeze that caresses,
that would have caressed my skin, if my window was open.....

music and lyrics

music and lyrics
hugs and kisses
the night sky, the stars
the ultimate romantic.
the ultimate pessimist.
utterly confused
sentimetal fool
iron filing in a world made of magnet.
bathroom singer, heels in the cabinet.
aspiring writer, dissolving reader.
a box full of laughter and tears.
a night full of colours.
eyes of molten light.

on my way home

on my birthday.. i recieved a book from a friend.
due to certain misunderstandings.a fight was on the prowl.
i saw the book. said the obvious. and left it at that.
i am going home now. for a break.
we have almost stopped talking to each other.
distance has creeped in... slowly... slimely...
i need a book to read on the flight back.
out of the lack of another choice i carry this one.
its called the bookseller of kabul.
i have checked in. i sit at the airport.
i open the book.
and find a note... a note written then...
a note i didnt know was inside.
to tinkles of laughter, and volumes of joy
to heartfelt happiness, to a completeness of being..
to the warmth you emanate.. to the softness i find.
to the immense friendship you brought into my life..
i love you my sweetheart... with all my soul. she says....
now,i wish i had woken her up. said goodbye.
told her what i had felt. and not kept it within.
i wish i had let her know how much i will miss her.
this feeling... of being loved...
is indescribable....
ill be back in a week ... and then.. i will tell her.
not keep anything hidden.
i told her to express, somehow i forgot to.
or perhaps didnt feel the need to.
thought she'd know.
now things seem out of hand.
too much bitterness, i have allowed to home in me.
but i will be back in a week. it will be all better then. i know..
im warm now... the airport air conditioning was killing me.

from beyond

i wish i understood what goes on in that head of yours.
i wish i understood what goes on in this head of mine.
i wish you understood what goes on in this head of mine.
i wish you understood what goes on in that head of yours.
if we understood... there would be no need to tell.
no need to talk.
no need to know.
no pressing need to spend time.
on this vain matter.
theres always something or the other, how is it possible that there isnt.
if it isnt the case for you. you dont belong to this planet. maybe not even this universe.
youve come from beyond. just for me.
just to help me know me.
just to help me understand.
i wish i understood what goes on in this head of mine.

my wisdom teeth

im not the person i want to be.
and im only beginning to see wot it is.
yet i linger.
having found a piece of earth, just for myself.
what if it dissolves if i move.
what if i fall, in nothingness....
with no ground to bounce back from.
with no space, no earth to call my own.
my wants and needs and accessories are within my hands reach.
will they move with me.
will have to build a whole new world.
will i be sure then..... of it being mine.
will i live like a nomad.
hunting, finding new homes, new universes, new bodies.... new souls.
my wisdom teeth are not hurting yet.
maybe then they will.
maybe then, ill have a piece of earth, and a whole person... exclusively mine.