Towards the end…

What does one define as the end? As Bo Jack characters have so thoughtfully put out, there’s always a day after the “happily ever after” day. 

Half asleep, and one doesn’t know what to engage one’s inactive soul into. Why would you come running for something, sacrificing your much-needed sleep? Does it give you the satisfaction of being productive? Are you though, really being active? Is all this a pretense? Maybe not. But who cares?

Why do you need someone to care for it to qualify as something worth caring?



Counting the notes,

I ascertain…

It’s rhythm coupled with

my inner sentiments;

that rages fire

within the entire system.


Evoking ecstasy –

Fluorescent shades.

Passing out,

Going faint.

My vigour fades

into a known oblivion.


There I see my life

passing beneath my eyes

Chetna – that fire rages again

and I pass out.

And this time,

the ashes aren’t grey…






Theme grotesque.

Dreams Picturesque.

Yet, I repeat it.

Being unable to conceal it.

And so I pour down

all voices trying to tear me down,

into this impeccable surface;

unlike the realities we often face.

True, he who has to go will go.

Easy to say, don’t miss them.

No, I’m not missing anyone.

But my mind digs and

brings back to me all interactions

we exchanged over conversations.

No tears falling down, I confess.

But beats are louder, breaths a mess.

Go say it’s just a phase; will pass.

Agreed. But neither can I ignore

the memory which is now a carcass.

No, I haven’t lost someone.

I have just stopped knowing someone

whom I never knew.

For the stench of that very carcass

entices scavengers:  resembling memories

to munch on it’s flesh.

Dear Black.

I understand we haven’t spent much time together and destiny took it upon its hands to not let us stay with each other. Destiny: in the disguise of an unknown devil who stole you from me.

I have never been a lover of folks around me who are at times(read “always”) too mawkish in expressing their love and then publicly crying over when their concept of what inseparable was, gets invalidated.

Regardless, I miss you. It was even before I met you that I was convinced I don’t need Pink anymore in my life. Although we spent a great deal together and I still would say she is my old love. Do I miss her? Probably not. Since our love tenure mutually came to an end. But you? I miss you because there was no mutual parting, no closure. You were snatched from me. I didn’t bid you adieu. I desperately tried to look for you in the entire travel compartment, hoping to just spot you, secretly wishing that you were just hiding from me and not stolen. But when did anyone give anyone a guarantee that all their wishes would come true?

I think of you every time I see someone else possessing what closely resembles you. I envy them. But I still know you were better than them. This incomplete partnership we shared is most likely the reason you will forever remain my favourite footwear. Who knows, maybe for the rest of my life?








A boatman travels;
A historian unravels.
One, through water;
The other, by resurfacing matter.
One is looking forward to destination;
The other traces footsteps of a nation.
Mystery lies nonetheless;
In this bout of guesses.
For one, about direction;


This, you think, is the last time.

They say it all comes down to your efforts

And not the fruit sublime.

Yet, they gauge, measure and judge

Whether or not you fudge

From that tiniest score.

They preach on, and forth, and more;

Little realising

You’re left to yourself by the shore –

Wondering your fallacies

And inadequacies.

Hypocrisy, they despise.

Oppression, they protest.

Yet the reason I surmise,


Thoughtful diversity they detest.

Your entendre is dark humour

Mine, an insensitive innuendo?

Creative liberty you stand by,

But demand command what I think by?


Yet term me as phobic if at all

My convictions don’t take me in your team?

Perhaps this piece lacks coherence and

Doesn’t make sense to you today.

But nor to me

Does your pretentious flexibility

Stuffed with Rigidity.


I am very often, almost everytime, mistaken as a bad addition to people’s lives. A very instinctual question, if I may ask is: why? What felony have I committed? Why does everyone always look at me in disgrace? As if my very existence is a depravity? Those innocent faces run away from me in fear. Those brave faces pretend to be my friend in front of the world, but deep inside they know they’ll abandon me the very instant they find someone(else). Those oh-so-popular faces dread my association with themselves, for I might tarnish their image.

You want to convince yourself that you find yourself when I’m with you. That you love my company. That I’m the only one embracing you when no one else does. Yet you find yourself in tears, when you are alone with me. You want to hurl invectives at everyone who seem so happy not having to bear me in their lives.

Why am I so demonised in your world, is what I ask. You have made me loathe myself. All of you. You have called me “loneliness” when you don’t want me, “solitude” when you do, and don’t even consider me as your company when you’re too self-obsessed; for those times you’ve saved ‘I love my own company’ as your excuse for not acknowledging my presence while being surrounded by me.