Chats and conversations

A conversation ain't about depth of words but more about the layers in it. The way a pause conveys the unsaid, the way a tone helps you discover the emotion sleepwalking beneath the words, the way the sound of a giggle or a laugh separates an akward filler from a instinctive flash of joy. Irony is we have moved from this natural multi dimensional medium to a 2 dimentional medium of chats in name of technology. 

The laugh….

i laughed…
pulling up the choked voice,
to tide over all fears and hesitations.
that couldn’t be resolved,
that couldn’t be ended,
but could just be tamed,
only to storm back
burying my mumbles down to the stomach,
making the next laugh
an impossible act to pull off…


Sometimes you feel like the head is in clouds, but you ain't flying. Still navigating through broken bylanes. The mapped journey has been sliced open into a waiting game and you are just not getting it right. When and whether to stop or resume. Slowly the gap between the level of journey and your goal widens. From reaching the destination it deteriorates to outrunning someone to preparing an inventory of reasons in case you are not able to reach the goal. The only way to survive this is to remember why you started and not let the question of where you have reached replace it

The Friday Party

you donno the ppl, you donno the  place,
all so cramped up, yet easy in their space,
sweepstaking realities to photoshop face,
music seesawing to moods of treble and base,

you can see them jam, you can feel a vibe,
a floor full of strangers desperate to form a tribe,
the frame has more than your words can describe,
for a Friday night is much more than last Monday's bribe

Journey of life

Sometimes we don't know where we are going. We are too afraid to look back or look too far ahead. Fear of slowing or breaking down is more than fear of losing the way. 
Holding onto an image of a proclaimed destination, which may not be correlated at all to the road we are taking now, we just carry on. All that is there is a vague feeling that we will somehow make it.
The so called planned life, sometimes appears like a cocktail of a borrowed dream, a followed road and a blind belief.


Pulse often raised,
memories of hope got themselves erased,
listening to anxities bark
life once was afraid of dark.

Then i discovered the darkness within,
breathing life into belief
that colors hid beneath,
were just waiting for light to pierce those depths,
untill the day light did reach the emptiness,
something beneath just crushed,
it was all black,

hope darkness gave me for years,
was stolen by light in a minute.

Her story

I saw my poetry sink in bathtub, she was rehearsing for her coffin it seems,
swinging between nightmares and dreams,
she wanted to give up her reality.

Draped in white,
tired of chasing colors
where being with blue meant being on the wrong side of yellow.

tired of breeding salt in eyes
where people come to enjoy the shores but never embrace the waves