May thy soul rest in peace.


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;


A rubber band breaks despite being elastic.

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.


Let’s hear how solitude tells its own story…

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.


Tying her shoe laces, putting phone inside her pocket, headphones around the neck, she goes outside the gate for an evening run. Today she has resolved to go the distance walking, all the way. Walking alone. Starts the songs from her playlist. Gets energetic, starts walking faster. A vehicle comes the opposite way. Unknown reasons, it seems to slow down a bit. The gentleman riding it gives a long stare while passing her.

Another one comes from behind. The two gentlemen go ahead and look back (seemed like they were surprised); give her a long stare top to bottom. “What is so unusual about someone wearing clothes and walking on the roadside in a fine evening?”, she wonders.

One more. Then another. And one more. And another. These stares are more frequent now. What is so strange in this visual that these “gentlemen” find difficult to conceive? She keeps walking ahead, regardless.

Now the stares are more continuous than ever. These human-carrying transits would infallibly slow down while crossing the girl, and the human beings on them would give a hard stare head to toe. “What is so unusual about someone wearing clothes and walking on the roadside in a fine evening?”, her curiosity dominates her thoughts now. She still keeps walking, song playing on headphones around her ears.

Should she have not headed for this evening walk alone? The place she intended to go was still far. Should she reverse her directions now and go back home? She suddenly pays attention to the lyrics of the song that’s playing in the background:



An unknown resolution makes its journey through her mind. The resolution that she should go ahead and complete her run today.  But one more decision. One that she takes, yet is against it. The decision that she will never walk out alone, ever again. She shall not leave the journey incomplete today, but she shall never head for this journey all by her own from the next time.

You ask why she behaves in a way that manifests her anti-social persona. Ask yourself, why can’t you curtail your temptation of examining her hair follicles and epidermis every time she walks out of her home?


Without a list of emotions you go through the moment, when all you really are going through is a strange, ticklish, warm rush of the entire range of gut feelings. What you’re not sure about, is whether this very “feeling” is your overestimation of simple physiological reactions to some disorderly consumption of edible elements we call food, necessary for our survival(or as they are believed to be) : or rather our mental resistance to the upcoming moment of change that is to be faced.

Either way, it makes you acknowledge the fact that, you are in fact, LISTLESS.