Posted in Poems

Connoisseurs Of Reality

Connoisseurs of reality,
They'll tell you what to eat
And they'll tell you when to sleep.

They'll tell you to stop watering your dead plants
Tell you to swallow life,
 like a pill
Never wonder how it tastes.

And that your thoughts are like the forbidden forest.
And the books you read,
Will drill blackholes in your mind.

Connoisseurs of reality,
They'll frown upon your hopes and your dreams
Like it is the 21st century.

They'll bath in the cesspool of nostalgic past
Then hug you and get you wet with it.
And your feet will slip away
From your dreams.

And they'll look at you,
Like a real estate agent
Looks at the shores of the foaming sea.

And one day, a really wise girl said
"They laugh at us when we're serious
and they're serious when we're joking"
And now she's quite dead.

Connoisseurs of reality,
Wizard of the emerald city
 Now will you be Dorothy?
Posted in Poems

Jigsaw Puzzle

As I walked through
The chaotic corridors
As I tasted the absurd fusion of voices
On my eardrums
And felt the wind displaced
By a child, running to a destiny unknown.
All, as I try to solve
A rubix cube with each tile,
A color of it's own.

I see how persons
Turn to people
Metamorphizing into masses,
I see how mud
Allows itself to be molded,
By hands that never touched its heart
On the wheel of self-loath.

I see it turn into vases
That hold plastic flowers,
When it was meant
To anchor the roots
Of lively blossoms.

I thought that perhaps
we are all pieces 
of the same jigsaw puzzle,
For everywhere, someone
Was trying to find a place to fit.

And then when I looked
and realized— that no piece
had truly clasped
I thought perhaps,
We are pieces of different puzzles.

And when I finally heard
The buzzer sounds of my soul
When I put down my camera
And I looked through these eyes
Laughing through my foolish musings
I saw, I realized,
We are no piece of a puzzle
We are the complete picture,
Or scattered.

Posted in Poems


An old man once said,
Come dance with me
The earth is spinning we can't,
Just stand on it, can we?

The earth, the eternal ballerina
Spinning and dancing
Her way through the space
Not a care, not once faltered.

She's spinning 
Her frock looks so pretty
And the wind around her
Swirls and talks with her.

She has her own big spotlight
She dances around a bowl of fire,
The universe throws flowers at her
But her spinning speed burns them up in the air.

She's got these small jewels
Everywhere, so many kinds
Adding to her beauty,
That's what she thought.

But Ballerina,
Your dress is now teared
It got stuck in your jewels
It has ripped, it is dirty

There are people shouting
In the streets in your name
And someone occasionally
Threads up and mends your dress.

But some jewels
Only come and rip it all again
Your dress is on fire
From the gleam of the jewels.

Aren't you tired?
Take a breath,
Dancing your way to death.

It wasn't supposed to happen so fast,
You still had to dance
Another performance please,
The greedy audience cried.

Maybe they love the fire
And so care little
To stop it
And let you rest.
Posted in Poems

From Happiness, with love

Hello! How's it going?
I can see behind your "fines and greats"
How can't I?
They may know your favourite band,
But I know your beloved album.

I know you sometimes tune in
Those crappy reality tv shows,
I know of your guilty pleasures
I know you don't get what the fuss about Shakespeare is.

You think you are hiding so well in the darkness,
But you're hiding from the light,
I know how your tears taste
I know the symphonies of your laugh.

You say you don't sing
But when you sing out of tune
All alone when you think nobody's listening,
It sounds like a waterfall falling on the rocks.

Oh, but you are dumb
You don't really see me
I knocked at your door
But your music was too loud,

I brought flowers,
But your house smelt of burning
So engrossed in the curtains,
You don't care to draw them out,
Look out of the window.

So scared to look up to the sky
You think the sun will burn your eyes out,
But it's just a full moon night
Stars that died, still burning for you.

Now you are a bottle message,
Drifting endlessly in the infinite sea of cosmos
Falling, rising only to fall again
Or rising, falling, only to rise again?

You aren't gold, you're human
Don't beat yourself so much
You can't make thin sheets of your soul,
You can't draw it into wires
And cage yourself in it.

You are not a candle
Don't light yourself
Succumbing in your own mess
In a war against outshining the sun.

You are not a coin
You don't have just two sides
A valiant coward,
Kind and cruel.

How do I know this?
You and me, not so different, are we?
We are all our own Tardises
Bigger on the inside, misunderstood driver.

Oh look at you,
bringing a torchlight to the moon
just sitting at the wrong place,
I'm here beside you
You don't need a torch

You throw yourself in the forge of the world,
You are not a mineral to be mined out.
You are in the battlefield
Fighting a battle like a soldier
For a cause you barely know.

You act like a philosopher
But I know,
You are still afraid of crossing a trafficked road
You still crave for a Happy Meal

But daring child,
You take your time
You venture in the tunnels
But you will see me soon enough
I will be beside you, waiting
I love you,
See you soon. 

Posted in Poems

चाँद का गीत (Hindi Poem)

ऐ चाँद तेरे लिए,
क्यों  इतनी कवितायेँ हैं रची?
तू उस चिड़िया की चहचहाट सी
जो लाखों गीत सुनने पर भी 
सबसे मधुर लगी।

मगर आज तू शर्माया सा हुआ है,
काले मेघ ने तुझे ढका है 
वर्षा के आगमन के लिए,
जैसे तैयारियों में जुटा है।

यह नभ ऐसा लग रहा है,
मानो कोई दर्पण हो,
जिस पर कोई नटखट बालक,
हांफ कर चला गया हो।

तेरी चांदनी मगर,
कहाँ ठहरती है?
तारे पकड़ते उसे,
पर वह हंसकर भाग जाती है।

जैसे कानो में लगी
कपास साड़ी ध्वनि
श्रुतिपटल पर चित्र बनाने से
उसे नहीं रोक पाती है,

वैसे ही ये बदल,
तेरे सुन्दर गीतों की 
चांदनी से स्वरों को 
नयनो तक पहुँचने से 
वे कहाँ रोक पाते हैं? 
Posted in prose

The part where the team sees a psychic

Ze finally got there; last days were what ze’d always wished for, but when ze finally got it ze wished ze hadn’t. Zir friends were in bad shape, but after they had gone to one psychic— the one who was on “leave”— they had to go to the other. They said she was their last option. She wasn’t the best; hell, she wasn’t even good, but that’s all they could have. They heard her last prediction was that Cadbury would invent something called Chocolate dipped Oreo. That was certainly not relevant to their quest.

Quest? Ze still got confused, even after everything that had happened— everyone was so sure of their ‘powers’ but ze was still second guessing them. Ze actually felt bad for being the only one without faith, the atheist among Sunday school goers.

“It’s here! We’ve reached,” Josh cried.

Continue reading “The part where the team sees a psychic”
Posted in Poems

I don’t understand

No, I don't feel hot
But it doesn't mean I'm cold
You all talk of things,
I don't understand

I want you to hold,
Hold my hands
Look at the stars
What people think is fun
seems like a waste of time to me.

I don't understand
Why you brought that cookie
Because some pretty girl stood beside it,
Is this all not just a scam?

When you talk of pretty curves,
I think of a cake.
Is that okay?

Some of you might say
it's just an act,
believe me, I've questioned myself enough,
been a mad scientist for too long.

Let yourself feel it, they say
Feel what?
What is so special about "this"
When we can have popcorn and Pixar instead?

You talk of simping,
Does that mean holding hands and talking,
And laughing with them?
Why are you laughing at me?
Did you think of something else?

How can you,
feel something so intense
for someone you just looked at?
What do you mean? 

Are we just supposed to know this feeling intuitively?
I think this is out of syllabus.
I know a lot of intuition,
I don't get it, I tried.

I do feel hungry,
give me some cake
and some garlic bread,
that attraction is eternal.

Posted in Poems

Sunsets and Trigonometry

I look at you, your new dress,
You are being quiet picky these days,
Never repeating the same hues
Yet I can't stay long 
You hold my hand
And tell me to stay a little longer,
I only make do
With looking through the closing door,
A thousand last glances

Because I have to pick up that pen
And write a thousand lines
On how sin²A + cos²A=1 still holds true,
When I say, what is its use?
They say look at the world,
Through the eyes of maths 
They tell me to look at my sunset
And find triangles in it.

They say aren't you amazed?
How numbers make these things,
You get to learn something new
And I say,

Can't I still be amazed
From the stars twinkling everyday?
How the last drips in the tap
Looks like somebody
Snatched a pearl necklace
From a woman's neck?

Can't I still be amazed
At the same story all over again?
Can't I still wonder
How the Tardis is bigger on the inside
How quickly Sherlock thinks
How Sam and Dean use salt to repel ghosts?

Can't I still be amazed
At how the moon tries to peek
From behind its white curtains
How its glow forms patterns in the sky?

No I don't care
That ripples are concentric circles
I care how they unfurl like petals of flowers
Just more caffeinated,
And the bird disrupts their beautiful pattern,
Creating her own as she pecks her beak.

They say get over,
Get over from dancing in the rain
Stop romanticizing the sunset
Stop falling in love
With the same characters all over again
They won't be with you

Well I only say
How can you expect me not to? 

Posted in Poems

मेरे स्कूल के वृक्ष (Hindi Poem)

मेरे स्कूल के वृक्ष,
क्या तुझपे अब भी
वसंत आती आती है?
मेरे स्कूल के वृक्ष,
क्या अब भी पतझड़ के समय,
तुम्हारे पत्र गिरकर,
उन डाक खाने रुपी नन्हे हाथों 
में क्या वो पहुँच पाती है?

ओह मेरे तरु 
क्या अब भी सुकड़ी हुई 
अंगुली सी छाल तक 
कोई रेस लगाता है?
क्या उभरी नसों सी 
जड़ो में अनेक बोतलों  के नीर 
से तुम स्वयं-क्षुधा मिटा देते हो?
क्या तुम अब कमज़ोर हो गए हो? 

क्या सूर्य के प्रकोप से 
तुम अब केवल परिंदो को 
ही बचते हो?
उस कनकती धूप से 
कोई सेहमा सभी से,
एक किताब लेकर 
तुम्हारी अंक में बैठ जाता है?

मेरे स्कूल के वृक्ष
क्या तुम पर अब भी सावन आता है?
क्या धरती अब भी तरती है,
उसके टेल भागती चीटियों को
कोई तंग करता है?
और तुम अपनी करुणा से 
उन्हें स्वयं पर चढ़ने देते हो?
क्या तुम्हारे पत्ते धूल से  धुल 
सावन में संवर जाते हैं? 

क्या अब भी शीत के समय,
तुम रूठ जाते हो? 
फिर क्या तुम्हे उन
ठंडी हवाओं से बचने 
कोई अपने कोट उढ़ा जाता है? 

मेरे स्कूल के प्यारे वृक्ष,
क्या तुझे अब भी कोई निहारता है,
निहारकर तुझे, तेरे लिए,
क्या कोई मूर्ख 
कवितायेँ लिखता है?