A dream on fire.

He saw a dream

Full of memories and light

Smiles and jives

All along so bright

At the verge of meadow

A home sweet

Like us two we live

That none could believe

While he dreamt

Of what he can be

He felt the fire

In his gut down there

He stood there

Dark red bloody eyes

Fierce full fire stick

Held high in hands

He marched and marched

To the castle of dreams

Till the time he may

Thud the door to break

He enters his own

Thoughts, that he dreams

And sprinkle some

Hatred of his own

Some rented from them

Lot came from err of past

Some from unknown stranger

A few from God

He bore the soul

That never belonged to him

In whole, a borrowed body

And sinful shroud

He lit

Lit it up, till fire was wild

Eating each inch of his being

A dream with less desire

He stood there, bold and strong

Soul turned to ashes,

That he wishfully admires

A dream of his!

Was on fire!


The half lost war

Down to the river,

lying half in water,

i could breathe, i may choke

perishing to survive, or to die.


i could feel the loop

like snake holding on

the one who knows every alley

one who has seen the town


every sack of bread,

every dust of road

tall handsome crawl

he took time to learn


the gang the mafia

the pubs the clubs

the ownership the blood

the Name & the fear


it is all in blood

all about to be lost

the empire & the company

he use to own that all


now down to the river

lying half in blood

i am dying  with a bullet

that has a hole in my heart!




The cast.

You’ll be made to remember

Remember you like a cast of me

Me being the one who belongs

Belongs to thee.

A face that i have never seen

Seen the beauty of thoughts

Thoughts that you write so boldly there

There, where the ink flows

Title after title, reading your thoughts

Thoughts that makes me feel

Feeling that expresses a mirror to me

Me! A mere juggler of words or a end of thee

Have heard it before,

Before we all are born

Born are people like seven of you

I know now, its thought not the flesh of me

The choices we make, relates!

Relates with the selection of words we write

Writing till the time, thoughts cries

All expressed on paper, else it just dies.

I remember you, close

Closely sitting, like its thee

A perfect reflection, unchanged with clock

Clocking reminds, its none but me.

You’ll remember, like a cast of me!

The “WE”

He was there in the corner, chaired. Head held low, eyes wet, face was red, bruises. He no more appeared to be wearing a shirt, torn apart. His trouser was barely protecting his dignity. Shivering, broken, thrashed, beaten like an animal.

We all saw him from a distance. He dragged by a bunch of “people”, in front of us only. Few moments ago! We all saw him being hit! Or bullied.

We all saw him turn into a mess! Or forced.

We all saw his face turn into blood! Or cut.

We all were the witness, while a handsome man transformed into a swine, unwillingly.

And we dare not call them “goon” we call them People. We the “people”, how pathetic.

We have stopped or have programmed ourself to turn to the other side.

Or we have adapted ourself to be silent, when voices are required the most.

Darwin gave a theory and we fail him every time when we take a pause from using our basic sensory organs or we have to re- evolute to learn their usage, when required.

Few statement makes “people” go crazy! We are scared of The internet army, the so called ferocious nationalist, the ugly petty thinking where they decide nationality with religion & songs, the failure of agreeing to hooligans.

I ain’t no judge not a bearer of the torch. Honestly, i am one of the “we” the people. All i know is,”We are scared to speak today, we will fail to breath tomorrow”.

Shrewdly Silent.

I sense silence

While all of them sat around

And talked, laughed and chanted

To the latest stories they lived

Here i am

Sitting just next to one

When things can be sorted

But i opted the chaos

My thought travelling

Far beyond what can be felt

All around the edge

To the verge of collapse

That feeling in stomach

That have been felt before

The heaviness and the brutality

I serve to me, myself

Breathing heavily

While i can count literally

Each one of them

Truly disturbing

Squeeze me to skin

Crush me to dust

I have no sight

Far beyond the right

Let me be all wrong

Once for all, winters are dry

All over again

Wish not to see, the summer stream

I scream inside

Or do i prefer to do

Eyes close, Trying thousandth time

Thoughts just don’t go

I sense silence

While all of them sat around

And talked, laughed and chanted

To the latest stories they lived, me too


The I

I see them,

standing close to me.

Like my own soul

on tip of my finger.

I hear them,

speaking close to me

like my own inner sanctum

in my head, ringing.

I touch them,

like i have never done before

skin to skin,

perishing like a untouched fruit.

I smell them,

the aroma not to forget,

nothing close to re call

but living on it live for ages

I taste them,

the rotten brew of life

bud twitching to crave

for good from pure.

I, before i die

i have them all, i want them none.

so numb, meaningless

I, before i die.

There There.

Dear you,

All this while, when i was getting crazy for something that i met of you, that night i left a part of me with you and owned some of you.

You were there in front of me, natural.

May be its too early, but honestly i feel like saying it all. A simple hello, drove me like engine revving at tops. All this while, when i spoke like crazy and meaningless, you were there profound and soulful. There you travel to remote, here i feel like time must go by soon. There you stay busy, here i wait the clock to strike eight. There you own your heels, here i wait to meet you in real. There you nap in some school, here i plan a scene from a films reel. Too much yellow while you are away( check haule haule se ho jaega pyaar from rab ne bana di jodi, every shot has something or other in yellow), wishing to travel down there in a array.

Could not have done it, if it was not for you. I do write letters and poems, idiotic phases and random jingles but this time i have a meaning’ meaning to mingle.

Would not have done it, if it was for some other. But this feeling makes me a rider. Like a rider of the storm( jim morrison)

Have not been so difficult to express, if it was not for you. I intend to make it perfect, not a chance to miss.

All this while, when you fly, work, travel, eat, sleep, think; please unravel.

What i saw were your eyes! Wont say deep as ocean, cuz that ll be cinematic. Instead, they were. Like zeus trident’s spark or part of moon. Like mother venus, like platonic sand dune. I know i can die, for a look again, not shy but loveable like Ma Reva’s( indian ocean band) tune.

I wish not to stop but don’t want to write it all. Saving a lot, hoping getting lifetime to express it strong.

Stay close!


It was day light. Occupied in the cubicle far away from all, he sat in the corner thinking. Thinking of what he needs to do. Where is he leading? What all can be the possibilities of his movement. He has already made a decision; all that he was waiting for was a right time for implementation. His tongue was getting impatient, fist was bored of getting clawed, and eyes were red with rage, thoughts to teach a lesson.

Multiple thoughts, multiple behaviors & perplexed actions. He was a new bee in the town. It was like late winters when he moved from city of wishes to the town of dreams, or was it so? For first few days silence was his virtue, he tried to understand the functionality, as much as he can so as to adapt and function. Few weeks later, he smelled the wood again, it was old, terrane was rough, and seats were vacant. It was filled with smell of death. Every now and then, from here and there he can feel the sense the vicious smell of stale behaviors. Morning to evening and then onto another day and then onto another week and then onto stupid seven months, it smelled flay. He can read the food getting stale each minute on. It was difficult for him; somewhere his ego was trying to push him up to make things equal, a slap on face? Or will tongue suffice? Or change in his own personality to reflect hatred equally.

He cannot wait for the moment when he will stand and say it to face – “a thousand unsaid phrases that you deserve, he will”

I quit, he resigned.

The Malabar Girl.

Have you ever felt, the touch with no physicality.

Have you ever seen, the unseen.

Have you ever tasted, the bland, he asked to himself while she was there sitting in-front.

He had no idea what he is up-to . It was like a deed done before. Like meeting someone known.

How can that be possible, he murmured.

what possible? This is you, she said.

No you don’t get me, i’ll explain…see there is a ball of energy that flow in between two. when in sync, WE grows; when not, it dies.

i do not understand, why do you feel being so complex in yourself, though you are not, I Know You.

(He gazed at her danglers, so beautiful) and said, YES you do and the puff continues.

All this while, meet after meet. Talk beyond the last. He is creeping. Like skin. He feels the sight of solitude and peace in few moments of the shared.

We only have met twice, its nice, i wanna know you more. Like meeting you again, like going back to you. I go back to you, He was vocal. (smiling)

And i can not  bear any beyond than this, its too much of you, she said with a flat face.

what he in-lined was, ” we have met only twice, i am afraid not to know you more. Like not meeting you again, like never going back to you. I return in some moments like …..NEVER (sulking).

For him it was like a Malabar Sunset, a girl from there. You want it to be there always but sun rises a night after.




Am I a person made of gold!

I loose people that I hold,

The beat they mould 

The heat they fold.
I was never pure

With thoughts bold and straight 

I have a spot

Which is dark and has weight

I am impure,

Marching to the hells gate.