Wednesday, 25 January 2017

Don't Look

Dont look at me like that
Like you have never looked before.

I want nothing from you.

Neither words of comfort, nor condescension
Neither your dreams, nor your demons.

I don't want you to recount
How you chased autumn leaves in desert sands
Or planted azure trees in barren lands.

I don't want your compassion
Nor your pity
Nor your judgements.

So, don't look at me like that
Like you have never looked before.

I would rather you leave me
To the rhythm of familiarity
That you proclaim you have escaped,
To the familiarity that is my world.
The world you disown,
The world  happy with its reds, blues and greens
Which does not know the intricacies of azure, sinoper and zaffre.

So, don't look at me like that.
I suppose you have never really looked before.

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Out of Love

I had loved you for a brief while, 
in a city that was neither yours nor mine. 

I had loved you in bright evenings and 
dull days on dusty streets-
when we stood and stared at the jostling crowd
that would never be us.

I had loved you over iced lollies and cups of tea,
stolen kisses and crowded buses
and words that made sense if only 
the world stood still.

Thousands of miles away from the city we had called ours,
we walk in the crowd today, in conjugal harmony, 
while somewhere some versions of us vow to never drag their love
into the diminished ranks of daily symphonies.

On us the joke is lost.
For the moment has passed
and I don't love you anymore.

Sunday, 16 October 2016


Here I drag with me
To the depth of solemn seas
Another droplet.

Friday, 7 October 2016

Where the Heart is

"Is this home?", I exclaimed
As I stepped back after a thousand years
Into that funnel of people 
Drawing me into a whirlwind of colorful chaos,
But my heart perhaps did not need the answer. 

For it has always known
Where my restless soul stands and stares. 

Friday, 11 September 2015

The breeze who changed its path

They said that the breeze had a salty taste about it. But of course it would, given that it was blowing from the sea. It knew no conventions, or perhaps it was aware of the fact that adhering to conventions never got you anything. After all, it had to chart its own way through. So it blew, and brought along all that crossed its path.

It was the wind beneath the wings of melancholy birds. It was the breeze that made happy flags flutter. It was the reason behind ruffled feathers and tousled hair. 

And then the happy wind descended on the dreary plain. A plain so plain, that it was almost mundane. A plain so bland, that it had no taste for salt. And the breeze blended in like it had never known what a tempest was. 

Have you ever heard of a breeze that changed its path?

Thursday, 17 July 2014

The girl I had left behind

The wooden door squeaks open,
her haunting face shines in candlelight.

Power cuts are still common.
Cobwebs still crowd the ceilings,
the window pane on the left is still broken.
My high heels don't feel at home on the shabby floor.
She welcomes me in;
that shabby alcove
where i had left her,lifetimes back.

Before i wandered
alone midst the cacophony
of foreign tongues, high street clothing
plastic money and plastic smiles.
Hills and fields i crossed, rode into the horizon,
scaled skyscrapers.
I have crawled back
grasping hands of the familiar ghosts i had abandoned.
They never abandoned me.
I look at her
she passes me a smile
I smile back at myself.
My high heels don't feel home on the shabby floor.
I feel home.

Friday, 10 January 2014


‘I will never let the world forget you’, he had promised his Queen on her deathbed. Fate had cruelly stolen her away, but he could not let go so easily. He employed the best craftsmen in his kingdom to build her a fitting mausoleum and now after ten years of toil, it stood ready. 

He went for inspecting the vision in white marble. Every nook of the building was perfectly carved and every arch spelt perfection.Every stone in the intricate carvings gleamed in sunlight. He was smugly satisfied until he spotted something in the middle of the sanctum. The ugly box stood out like a sore thumb in his flawless monument. 

He ordered for the Queen’s casket to be carried away.