Posts

Prayer

I wish you could listen,
when I schmooze about your anecdotes, but not to you,
I certainly wish you would listen,
when women I meet know more about you,
for I have told them about how beautiful you are!
For beauty is synonymous with you.

I certainly wish you could listen,
to the countless talks I shared in my reveries,
where we mocked at distance and made it look short,
where I also said I love you a thousand times!

People come and go,
rivers dry and flow,
but true lovers meet just once,
and what follows is history!

I wish to write one,
I seek to cherish the run,
so hold it, Sam, when you find none,
for only the page has turned!

I pray you listen,
just so you know we have begun a new chapter.

The white dwarf

An unlikely bond between a cheese and a chalk,
Like two indivisible primes, and yet like five and seven, came together to form one and two.
Dressed as wanderers and truth seekers in a place bounded by time,
lived a fairy tale of friendship and goodbyes.

We bonded over need, but in short time needed the bond to survive,
Disguised as travelers, sometimes, as connoisseurs of art,
performed different roles over a sea of tete-a-tetes,
I ran into a particle that left as a storm!

You described the journey in your letter and left for your destination,
Me? left with time but hardly any patience!

Now, I shall blame you for writing the better part and leaving me to describe the aftermath,
For the alluring moments and effervescent experiences,
for the enchanting mannerisms and exuberant mesmerism,
as also the despot-like attitude and frustrating spontaneity!

And you left! Like a wave that touched the shore and swept.
Now, I have none, a void you cleverly envisaged!
For this I blame, the times we…

Search

My search for meaning goes on.
With variables, scattered and atoms, gathered.
I see students going for a class, colleagues meeting at workstations,
all of us have a strange momentum to complete five days,
to live in oblivion for the two days of the same week.
Perhaps, we move to our shell, to find our purpose, sure!
I am clueless, unaware, naive!
Then to make matters worse, I have different types of purpose,
Larger, if I have made it! Smaller, if I have to say it!
That way, I would be seen with a purpose, bright!
I do my bit, here and there, but its all seemingly vain or plain.
How cultivated, falsely motivated, truly corrupted beautiful creation am I?
I log in, log out; sign in, sign out; look and overlook,
perhaps the mockery till the vapid waves find its stream.
I have a feeling I wont and I will repeat these actions till I burn; bright!

Of moments, beliefs and everything else

All our lives we have had moments
That have made a mark
which prompted
an action
or a change in our way of thinking
or believing and we adapted
to a new belief till we left
for a better one
Where did it all start?
where will it end?
The world that has no reason
Is here to stay.

The silence of achievement

What can a win entail?
A sense of purpose or a sense of sharing?
For me, it asks to be recognized, to be collective rather than immersive,
For I have slept less when I have won.
It indulges you to share, thereby raise your expectations,
you surrender your win to their mercy.
 Thereby all win wins is an isolation!

Chuckle

I ran as fast as I could,
only to realise that the race wasn't about running.
T'was more about knowing.
Knowing, there's a plague that makes you run.
The plague, that scares you to run,
but alas!Not knowing makes you run harder....

All of us must have issues,
Issues for your perusal, no? learn to mock patience!
Run, let your house burn,
flames purging hunger, zeal,
while its silent out there, all of it!
Atleast you nod rightly, 'hang' in there, right?

Sorry Snooty, not the challenge I picked.
And yes I ran, but stopped clocking the time long before I finished.
Knowing, I ran and knowing I must stop.
Chuckle, chuckle,



Lull

For the past few years, I have reduced my writing to pretty much nothing barring a few poems. While writing for me essentially is to share my pain, it hardly means that I haven't been sad, because that would mean I beat the crap out of the World Records for being the happiest guy in the world. Perhaps,I was being human, being lazy I mean. Also, the 'me' time has been taken over by lot of formalities that  are either been self-inflicted or perhaps, had something to do with 'being Indian'.

There is something about going to office day in and day out, It is called monotony. All your dream find spaces, not in the cubicles. actually, only in your brains. Perhaps, offices are meant to give you that 'kick'. They are meant for you to realise your worth, and thereby, your work, equally montonous. 
The only way, we break the monotony, is by changing jobs, then bosses, either or all, till you are forty. Ofcourse, but before breaking into forty, you do read a lot of ar…