Thank you, poetry

Burning with passions of love and anger,
When time took its toll, taking everything away,
Stranded broken and bleeding,
Human heart hurting,

It was at that age that poetry came in search of me

Now I pursue shooting stars, falling feathers and golden sunsets,
Mesmerized by the monotony of every morrow,
Beguiled in the Infinitude of human emotions,
The way they admire,
Or are amused,
Or adore thee for thou antics,
Or them flickering souls,
Stealing the thunder, the sky with their mere presence,
The more I explored the world, the more I fell for it

It was at that age that poetry came in search of me

As I walk and talk and laugh and cry,
I do all that in verses,
Offering affection and words alike,
Call me insane,
I shan’t mind,
But it’s a keeper, my poetry bag,

And it’s worth it,
Thinking in poetry.


Butterflies and trust issues

A butterfly blooming in a building building,
Won’t you look at me,
At this plastic spoons in the midst of a dinner set,
Shan’t you feel my sorrow,
Shading in the shining sun,
The closed outlets,
Or the windows in the doors,
Won’t you look at me,
Just once,
With your little black eyes with shades of rainbow,
Maybe I could see,
The reflection of the world as you see it,
Or maybe I could tell you,
Why I cried last night,
Or this morning,
Or in the metro,
Or every time,
Maybe you’d care,
And fill this eternal emptiness I feel,
Despite of having every thing,
Maybe you’d tell me,
To soar away from my sorrows,
Not mourn over my melancholy,
Concentrate on my charms,
Remember my spells,
Being myself
And to
To be
Or feel it
Just once,
Won’t you give me a chance?
I won’t let you down,
I promise,
Won’t you look at me,
Just once,
As you fly faking facades,
Let’s weave words,
Drown and dream,

Look at me,
Just once,
Sitting solitary,
Just once,

Won’t you?


As the morning mist blew over my melancholic mask,
I realized,
It wasn’t as monotonous as before,
I breathed it in,
And facade turned into a face,
I moved on,
Mused on as well,
We don’t get to say that things are not enough,
For enough is enough,
And this world is too,
And if we think,
Really think about it,
Our lives outstrech the constraints of life and death,
And extend their wishes to the neighboring celestials,
Or the immense seas,
Or the blushing sun, red in its most adorable being,
Hiding behind the silver lining of them clouds,
It doesn’t feel right, nor fair,
To accuse anything at all to be not enough,
When we have numberless numbers of an Infinitude of those feelings,
In which we are infinite,

Driving down a highway,
Flickering street lights,
Traffic jams ensuring chaos,
Stuck in a metro in a peak hour,
Living in the journey while longing for the destination,

These awkward anticipations,
Delicate despondence,
A breath of life,

With such a wide world and such little time,
So many books left unread, still, recipes never cooked, people never saved, souls not saved,
Enough not being enough,
And yet

Struggle is real,
Desperation is there,

Enough is enough,

Enough is enough.

//Written in a metro journey to college.


I looked
In the eye
At least
I tried to

But they didn’t come to me
The stories of them strangers,
What bothers them as they sit oblivious to their mismatched socks,
Or stare intently at that iron pole,
Loosing and finding selves in their own states of epiphanies,
Empty in their eyes,
Oscillating, in do’s and don’ts, affirmations and negations,

I find,
My own
Melancholy peeping
In their

Yet somehow
These passerbys,
These people,
Whom I know nothing about,
Who don’t stir up emotions in my mind,
Or heal or hurt my heart,
Or do
Any thing,
At all
Why is it
That there is a strange familiarity in these not-so-familiar strangers,
And it feels that I know more about them than I know about yours,

Looked in the eye
I tried





Dedicated to perfection

An Infinitude of inexplicable emotions,
Is it not time that we pause,
Yet again?
Think out loud on some steel bench at some metro station,
Mesmerized by diverging destinations, sunbeams dancing in our realms of realities,
Too perfect, too precious, too much, perhaps?
As we cackle and crack, just observing these people obsessed with being players in this stage called world, offering us masks after masks, facades after facades, while we try, and try, searching for these splendid shades in our souls,
As the skyline splits, showering us with shadows and suspicions, and this world, stops, for us, as we stop running,
As we pause,
And whisper, of them words, so worthy, or those promises we keep, solemnly swearing to being up to no good, charming our way out of this chaos, in this tranquil transition, of twelfth,
As we stop, from this race of ambition we choose to run,
And wonder aloud, of those unsaid dreams of teaching in a playschool or owning a bookstore,
Of libraries and coffee houses, enticements of melancholic mountains, the immense seas seducing us to sail, temptations of our treacherous trance,
And dream a new dream,
In those few hours when we are not conscious of actuality, as we sleep,
And our words spill on this unbounded canvas, the brilliance of our minds blending, in this mutual madness,
In embarrassing moments of ecstasy, as our symphonies harmonize to form this song, which is just perfect,
And even as we run out of time, it’s okay as we walk together, breathing every breeze in, the morning mist, the magic of midnight, smiling at the setting suns, fascinated by flickering lights, captivated by them imperfect constellations, as we think out loud,
Searching for new metaphors for this metropolis, smiling at this turn of events, our selves bewitched in lives in a metro,
That when I sleep,
I dream,
Of this reality, this priceless pursuit, so pure, kind, unreal, yet real.

Tell me this,
Are our cosmos to collide, as we try and fix these fragmented fantasies, hallucinations of happiness,
Trying to make sense of these visions in our heads, fancying, imagining,
Of Pumpkin pies and Hogwarts letters,
Just being happy, do you mind, though?
If, our infinities turn infinite, and dreams that were mine and yours, become ours,

As we pause,
Yet again.
( Or is it, indeed

Too much?!)

//A not so lyrical ode. A dedication to perfection and preciousness, written at this metro station called Ramesh Nagar.


[17/02, 7:42 AM] :In the still silence of the chiming clock , abyss of the unfriendly, lazy hour of a monotonous morning,
A stale fragrance of yesterdays prevailing in paper classrooms,
A suspicious strangeness peeping through, in familiar, friendly faces,
Are they but just facades, are they faking it
You never know,
But I am ignoring that sinful thought,
Choosing to devour that bittersweet aura of a calming cup of coffee from the college canteen, or as you say it, cafeteria,
The lights don’t flicker in this room,
There’s either light or darkness,
No greys,
No fifty shades,
Makes sense right?
Not to me, it doesn’t,
It doesn’t synchronize with my varied verses, the wavelength of a writer, a passing poet,

So I wait,
For souls who find this order as disorderly, as chaotic as I do,

I am waiting,

Are you coming?

[17/02, 4:48 PM] :Drowning in a flooded array of strangers with stories still unknown to you,
With chocolate milkshake tetra packed to keep your sanity intact,
And time travelling with your lone self,
Two hours of humming to yourself,
Varying verses and spellbinding stanzas of Adams, Swift and Sheeran,
Busying thee self to video and voice calls, connecting, disconnecting in the fragile signals of an Airtel tower,
And the sun shading itself for a Sunday brunch,
A wind not winding anymore, and blabbers no more blabbering,
Leaving two incognito infinite souls to a mystic mystery,
With ingenious ideas and nostalgic nuances swirling in their heads,
The day hasn’t dawned as yet,
The birds are still soaring,
People running around trying to be on their deadlines, on the lines,
To death,
But let a sadness not touch my verse tonight,
I hope you see a golden sunset and the sky being all blue and Violet and all shades of a rainbow,
And let the dying leaves not fall upon you,
And you see a cocoon transforming to a butterfly blooming,

Opposite ends of the crossroads,
Roofs and roadtrips await,
The clock is ticking,

Tis the moment,

Are you going ?

1 AM Nightmare

Inexplicably interconnected with everyday enterprises and monotonous monologues, flickering continually with raging ravages of triumphant time, a war wages, stirs in my vulnerable, raw soul,

I see,

A dear dream turning into a nocturnal nightmare,

With numberless alligators, brutal bears fishes out of water, flying masks,selfish beings soaring, howling wolves ready to choke the life out of me away, forcing me further and further from your calming ambience,

And people turn to animals that turn to humans, and savages as they are, they chase me as I run and run though in vain, stuck in a labyrinth, puzzled by my own perplexed perceptions, I cannot breathe, find no way out, I’m running, what is happening,

I do not understand, as the incessant race forces me to get up and I try and breathe slowly, trying to get what just happened, and everything feels heavy and I try and fix my self,

I am scared and alone, and dogs howl outside and I listen to the clock chiming continuously,

I’ll try again though. I need this sleep to be enough,enough and ecstatic and everything good,

I lie again, though a bit lost, a bit found, but where is your soul , I cannot make that out ,

Hush, soul, silence. Calm down ,

Hush dear night, do not play your games on me tonight, instead sprinkle me with showers of a sound sleep and serendipitous silence.

Oh, lonely night , help me out of the nocturnal nightmare,

I need to get some sleep.