Sometimes there is no plan in place,no goal in sight,
but the journey has to go on.

Sometimes there is no check in place, no one to say right or wrong,
but the job has to be done.

Sometimes there is no outlet to the emotion,no proof of even its existence,
but the shaken heart has to be balmed.

Sometimes there is no shoulder to cry on, no place to hide tears,
but the tides have to be emptied.

Folded page

Life had some moments where heart was in dilemma,

whether to pump-up in rage
to skip the beat,

whether to rush through the emotions
pause to repeat,

whether to break open the chest
bury it deep.

But i decided not to tear the page then,

and orphan the story of an infant emotion.

Just left it blank and folded,

in the arms of unfinished story,

which is still unfolding with every passing heartbeat,

with a hope that ink will mature one day,

just enough to let the folded page bloom into an answer,

heart felt for but couldn't seek.

Looking back

They say.

i keep looking back.


i don’t.

i left myself there

at a point in time

with those people

in those situations


i never felt

the need

the temptation

the pressure

to skew myself

to suit

to be accepted

to be cared for

i don’t look back

i am just bored of the drama,

So i look at the real me

laughing, talking, breathing

in my thoughts

which they say

are memories …

Heart crawlers

They come out of hiding, 
appear to be abiding,
searching not, but begging for place,
place not in house, but in heart,
they are into impostering like an art,

you avoid them at start,
but end up dealing,
you look for their wounds,
wounds they have decorated,
to catch your attention,
without even a fleeting mention,
in the conversations
which involve your silences
and their stories,
your copy-paste OKs and their overdose of sorries,

you give them place,
a place in your heart,
still confused
whether as a gift of love or a loan of sympathy,

and the problem starts the moment they take it,
they try to make it something of their own,
making you forget the heartbeats you own,
they start coaxing you for more space,
you give them an inch more,
they bargain for square feets,
they nail you on your weak nerves,
even blackmail if it serves.


We try to sleep through...

the near misses which were never aimed until the very end,

the frictions which were indulged in to test the blade,

the conversations going in reverse courtesy the motor mouths,

those brainless orders given by the brainwashed,

the never ending race for someone's medal.

Trying so hard is making insomnia more achievable with each passing night..


Hum the song till you breathe the lyrics
numb the nerve till heart finds peace in the pricks,

savor the mirror till mind replaces the frame with real click,
curse the skin till the leather becomes thick,

fiddle the curtain till eyes can't resist the rays anymore,
stand in rain till the flesh feels like home in downpour

Waves and curves

Saw a mermaid soaking sun on boat,
maybe she got license to ferry,
now waves tide to her whims,
for she holds their secrets,
more than a moon could ever carry.

Her curves tempt the waves to rise
and lick them,
leaving behind the salts to soak beauty off her skin,
ageless waves feel she is the ocean of their sin.

Badalta waqt badalte log

Jinse moodne ki umeed thi,

unhone palatke bhi naa dekha,

arse baad jab takraaye,

toh pata chala,

waqt ne unhe ek hunar sikhaya hai

jaankar anjaan banne ka….

Jinse roshni ki umeed thi,

wahi raat de gaye,

jiski subeh woh apne saath le gaye,

sau baar utthe hum us raat mein,

par khidki par sirf andhera dikhta tha

aur parda sarkaane ki himmat rahi naa thi,