Words

Delhi would be my highschool crush,
Honestly cause I didn’t know any better,
It was simple, well, and baseless,
Manali my first love, it’d be forever,
I thought, until corrupted by distance,
It was warm whilst it was,
It was just far apart.
Oh, then there was dharamshala,
(Who am I kidding, it was just manali with a haircut)
And then there were stints with Bangalore,
And Frankfurt, and Rome, and Venice,
And I visited the world, and they all visited me,
A traveller, I was counting the cities to which I had been,
Collecting flags, and brandishing them,
And Koln, and Guangzhou, and Prague,
And I pulled them close, only to push them afar,
Exotic as it seems. Just mechanisms to cope,
A hollow anchorless balloon afloat,
And then came Paris that everyone wanted to visit,
The place, universally picturesque, just lustful temptation,
I admit it.
Kicked me out, cause I never belonged,
For a while forlorn, with purpose moved on,
And slowly I travelled, and set out on foot,
Only serendipitously to find this place,
And I thought, ‘is this home?’
Turned out I didn’t know at all,
That San-Francisco moves so fucking fast,
Scared to commit, keeps running to the past,
Fear keeps good things at (in the) bay,
And now I shall leave again,
And find myself within my heart.
And the world will be at my beckoning.

Anjeer ko shehad se lapet kar, Kheer-e-rehmat tune jo banayi,
Garari par jaise ho tel, zindagi se weraani yun hatayi,
Razamand khada hua phir dekho bin khauf,
Poochoon phir- kis cheez ki hai talash mein tu aayi?
Halaq khushk pada hai, shabd itne jo beh gaye,
Arso purane kisse dekho, sab muh-zubani keh gaye,
Sawal-e-wasl par kahin door doob raha he,
Himmat he par, hausla tut raha he.
Umeed ki toh talwar he, atma-vishwas ki ab dhaal chahiye,
Agar iske ki dhaar mit bhi jaye, rooh ki mishaal jalni chahiye,
Is shayari ki lehron mein kho, tu nav ban age chal,
Zindagi aur kuch nahi, bas ek ki lambi raha hai bhai.

A Morning in April,
I went for a bike ride,
To pick a basket of eggs.
Bumps on the way,
I discovered the basket was broken,
And I was a horrible fucking cyclist.

Knocked on the door and it opened wide,
Gracefully I was welcomed inside,
Followed hours of celebration and joy,
And then someone knocked from across the door,
It turned out there was room for more,
And joy followed so there was a back and forth,
And then one day I knocked and no one responded,
But gradually the door opened a little bit,
To just offer a peek inside,
So I nudged the door open wide,
Scared the person ran further inside,
And there was then another door,
I knocked gradually this time,
And heard a voice from across the door.
So I banged on the door loudly,
Only to further scare the person inside,
But all I wanted was to see,
If the person was still into me.
I’ll recognize that the door is shut wide.
And I’ll walk away with bruised knuckles.

I went to the town of tonino,
And mela and sera came to meet me halfway,
Drove right past and didn’t greet them,
So dejected they just strolled away,
In a hurry to reach salva(sta)tion,
I forgot to hold my hands and pray,
And took them for granted,
And chased that shiny perfect day,
And took the train holding hands,
Thought this elation was here to stay,
The grip got weak, the destination too far,
The wagon shook and went astray,
So joy left, a station too quick,
Too scared of the effort it would take,
Slow venom creeped. Decide. Decide.
Panic settled in my veins,
So I turned around, shoes tied,
Yes, yes I started the chase,
And it stared back at me, looking straight in the eye,
Patience, patience, we are here to stay?
Back turned now, looking ahead,
Should have let go and just rode away.

I stood very close to a mirror staring straight into my eye.
To peer into what lives inside that brown colored sky.
Pointing a finger- I meditated.
there was then a
reconciliation between the You and I,
And you were me, and I was you,
Questioning what lies inside?
There was a vast emptiness that had it all,
The visions, the dreams, the sensations, and thoughts,
And the past, the future all seemed to fade,
Only to agree that it’s only the present day,
Thats what fills this hollow space,
And then convolutions of what was and what will come
Stormed to uproot this clarity,
Thoughts like waves shake this parity,
Hopelessness, regret, defeat and fear,
Roaming in a capsule of meaningless sounds
I turned around, there was a knock on the door,
And I walked into to greet my other two selves,
To end this endless introspective process,
And moved to live, we all reconciled,
This loop on my neck is forever tied.

Slowly turning the temperature of the water,
From hot to cold to hot again,
The tender redness of your skin,
Is now accompanied by goosebumps.
Hold it gently- it's a dream,
Except accepting expectations
From others- what do you practice for a living?
To hold a butterfly in a cage is a crime
Punishable by agony and guilt and shame.
The supple movement of her wings- no ones to blame,
The tighter you grasp it, slips slowly-
Down your neck, down the drain.
To learn to live, to learn to love,
These lessons aren’t in vain.

Slowly turning the temperature of the water,
Behind lost watches, we have gained time,
With baskets scored, from the three point line,
He will swim a mile for you, his love is fierce,
We are still confused children, behind our patchy beards,
To nights drowned in dark choc and darker liquor,
Our dreams are bigger, than our minds can figure,
You see singing wrong lyrics is an art, we share,
With conviction, we bullshit, but the meaning appears,
You know the love is real, when you don't even have to try,
You have nothing to prove, and only joy makes you cry,
This pahadi boy, who gives and then gives more,
Keep some more of your love for yourself in store,
To quarters of rockford, and quarters of rum,
This quarter life might define what we become,
But let's drink to this sweaty man today,
You have truly truly come a long way.

My anchors collided against each other,
Stirred waves, when I needed placid waters,
To grow, to foster.
So when I used to seek comfort.
I would close my eyes, and the ship escaped the oceans.
Transformed into an airplane now.
I found a book to color in.
Earthquakes stir the ground,
But the sky is free from tremors.
I see my anchors from a distance now.
I fly across oceans occasionally dipping in.
But only with my toe.
Freedom- my true calling.
But the skies- they are covered in blues.
The battle that they fought.
Had a small casualty.
The child in me pulls cords too easily.
To turbulence, parachutes abound.
I wanted to fly.
Now, I slowly sink back to my reality.

Cushioned in-
This bed is so goddamn comfortable
I sink in further and further.
This satin sheet- inorganic as it is,
Feels great on my skin,
While I sit and dream.

‘What a lovely place to be?
Why get out of this bed at all?
You know homelessness is a thing right?’

And my bed is great.
In a large family room. It was preordained,
That I shall sit and make this bed-
My own. And roll in it. The luxury.
And never get out of it.
Who wants to get out of bed?
When there are sharks that swim on the floors below-
And I never learnt how to swim.
While I sit and dream of diving in deep oceans,
I now have to make this bed. Remove the creases,
Tuck in the sides.
Fold that blanket with a sweet corner.
And maybe never sleep on it again.

A good way to fall in love,
Is to first test the water with your toe,
Then dive in head first cause
You really reap what you sow,
It is to be soft, and sweet, yet
hold your ground. Firm when needed,
Cause it might just let you down.
To realize that your need to love,
It is selfish at best. Yet you hold the
ability (not power) (never sour),
To make what it will become.

A song came and wrapped me like a blanket,
On a rainy morning drive to the same place
As the day before, and the day before that.
It came and made the unevenness of my path
Seem softer, first whispering into my ear-
Screaming now as I roll down my windows,
A song came and held my hand, gently,
And then firmly, then reassuringly,
Only to end and let go.

I see ghosts of the past haunting these smiles,
The dreams that you dreamt, reminisced with vile,
This facade of happiness, somehow constructed,
Like rope bridges, instructed with screws to
Hang between two cliffs, the present swings,
But even a tiny gush can resurrect that panic,
The knees give in, you laugh like a manic,
While the sorrow gnaws through guts and veins,
Breaths become shorter, “5-4-3-2-1” in vain,
Curling now into a fetal-ity.
The turbulent bridge is unceasing it seems,
Every step forward, the cliff-ahead a dream,
A perpetual tread-mill leading to a nowhere.
Turn back and see, its emerging from an obscurity,
And these railings you grip on are just your insecurities,
Let go of this grasp, leap into the ridge,
The calloused palms, blood rushes to fill,
Stroking in the now, you learn to breathe,
Swimming is better than walking around,
Cause ghosts and insecurities they easily drown.

You know when something is settled?
Like a butt mark on a sofa settled
Like drool on a pillow drenched
Like an angry fist tightly clenched
Like the stench of a book unopened for years
Like routine temple visits and all its fears
Like a dump yard growing in its enormity,
Like a rabid dogs ingrained ferocity,
Like the stains on a paan addicts teeth,
Like those grainy lined crow’s feet,
Why does it have to be pure?
It's all this and so much more.

I punctuate my life with cigarettes.
It somehow finds a way. Or I find my way to it.
Every time I need a break. From life's trivialities.
Or I drink a drink. Or a coffee. Or tea. Or a shake.
Or water sometimes. I scour to find my hidden box.
A lighter. A walk up to my spot. I am 25, but I hide.
Like I am ashamed of it. I am committing a crime.
I am not proud of it. I don't think any smoker is. Proud.
I want to quit. But like the desire to read more.
It just sits.
Unsettles me occasionally. While going to shop at the bookstore-
I did once burn a whole box. The cancerous humanoid on the box cremated.
That can’t be me. I felt untouchable. Nah- not me.
What was once an exclamation mark. Occurring occasionally.
Is a comma in the morning sun, a question mark lonely in the balcony,
A semi-colon at a party and a period after sex.
It brackets me cushioning away from cortisol somehow.
And quotes my bullshit talk like a background symphony.
I don't know why I started smoking, but I can give a million reasons why-
I wish I didn't have to stop.

Kisi ne awaaz buland kar kaha tha- ‘Sab yaad rakha jayega’.
Aaj yeh awaaz kuch seham si gayi he.
Ek dukh ki chaadar mein simat kar Beth si gayi he.
Mera chacha ki kundi muchh- Rakh ban beh toh gayi he.
Par yeh saali bimari- saanson ke liye bekarar kar, thakti hi nahi he.

Lakhon ki lalkare- sar mein goonjti toh zarur he,
Par sadko ka ye sannata, ab kuch jaana pehachana lagta he.
Yeh dukh mera bhi he, par ab yeh bhi kuch begana sa lagta he,
Kuch hein jo is dukh ko samet, ek andhi ban jung par chale he,
Kuch hai jo bevas bas, iske shikaar ban pade he.
Bevas mein bhi hoon shayad? Par ye adhikar nahi rakhta.

Ek dusre ke sahare- ye din bhi guzar jayenge.
Ghabrate ghabrate, thake phir, log bahar nikalaayenge,
Samay toh thame ga nahi, phir shuru hoegi wahin dastaan,
Jo aaj dhuen se ghir chuka he, woh phir chamkega asmaan,
Soch mein dube jo the, phir karenge apna abhyaan,
Umeed hai woh awaaz, jo sehem gayi hai shayad aaj,
Is vinash, is vadh ka hisab gin, phir hokar jawaan
Buland uth, keh paye-
‘Jo qatal hue hain mere yaar sab,
Unki yaad mein dilon ko barbad rakha jayega’

I switch the lights off, now where do I go?
I swear I see in this darkness, but what do I know?
Tracing memories on this black board,
This light is nothing but a side-hoe,
Cause visions, they more vivid with my eyes closed,
Colors dripping, shapes shifting, where are these stored?
Endless rooms to ruminate, places to explore,
Absorb while you’re awake, you simply hoard,
Everything.
Subconsciously swallowing the sweeping sense of a
Subjectively seen surreality, seared into souls,
Seeded sincerely in these stories spread
Segregated simply into summations, separated yet
Seething to somehow sustain a semblance of
Something seen as a safe settled place to rest,
And then it hits.
Sleep.

A deck of cards, and you are dealt two,
The table set up, the cards they flew, outta the hand,
Of that dealer divine, yet that dealer when worshipped,
Doesn’t really have the time, as tables too many,
Have to be served, the plates can be empty,
The cutlery can be gold, or silver, or steel,
Those cards that you hold, rub your fingers to feel,
And embrace that cold, you play your hand,
First they are three, you do your best to call,
The mediocre might fret, then fold, they fall,
Raise them bets, against the odds, you bluff,
The golden bully it seems has gems in his cuff,
The dealer too kind to him, endowed him with the land,
And the cash, and the culture, and the language to stand
Tall, but that hardly maketh a man, cause the value of your cards,
That’s for you to determine, cause life ain’t a game,
And forget the poker face, don’t point fingers to blame,
There are no rules, these cards that you hold,
Are unfair I know, the aces they go further than we are told,
It’s a blow to the spine, the caste, the gender,
The race, the color, one simply surrenders,
Complain all you want, it just won’t change,
And fuck this social justice, there is no respite,
No think tank is coming to resolve your plight,
Hell this really makes it seem that Rand was right.

Sit back, breathe, close your eyes
Or keep them open, thought music reprise,
Visuals emerge, in the same paradigm,
As sensations, accept them, please resign,
Feelings like waves on consciousness’s surface,
Everything appears to serve its purpose,
Structures created and meanings defined,
The mind is vast, unconflicted yet primed,
To constantly make our egos collide,
Musings like erratic tenants, freely reside
We try to make sense of this randomness,
remove yourself, it’s nothing- a scrambled mess,
Focus is overrated, lose those mighty goals,
Purposeless and headless, we are the entire whole,
world resides between those ears- in a non-duality,
No absolute truths, an advaitic reality.

Ever seen a dildo that flies?
Take a call, test it outright!
Talks to you smoothly, stays up all night,
Comes with reviews, takes feedback with pride,
Commanding when turned on, listens with attention,
Even goes down, tickles with the right tension,
The excitement it seems died down to quick,
Used two times, then forgotten like a prick,
No feedbaack, except incompatible it seems,
Not even kept in the drawer, you fucking queen,
Disposed off like it didn't matter at all,
The words it spoke, the stories it barked,
Don't like it to much, just package it up,
The dildo doesnt care, its just a product.

You want magic. So magic it is.
That awe, the glitter and that bliss.
Some trick comes to life, your heart in the hat.
A moment it was rising, in a moment it’s flat.
The pledge, the reassurance until they believe,
Then comes the turn, the ploy on the sleeve,
Somehow you forget, It’s all a misdirection.
It’s a switch, a steal, a smooth stimulation.
A rehearsed production designed to elate,
The hidden wires that effortlessly levitate,
You hover, you float, prepared for the slaughter,
And then threads cut, now deep in the water,
The prestige although, now that’s a skill,
To re-emerge from the depths, and then stand still,
Reappear to amaze the audience that you once were,
Question the magic, you know now its a trick,
It’s practice till perfected, and not inherited,
And you are the magician, the protagonist that lives,
Rehearse till perfected, and climb till it gives,
And then from the stage, agency proclaimed,
You scream-
You wanted magic, so magic it is.

I swat flies in my cabin, with this yellow coloured file,
It has these traces of blood, of all the time that I while
Away, dreaming all those dreams, that I will never truly live,
Reality as it seems, is better when I pay those bills,
And earn all that green, pungent loads of cash,
To spend on the engines that drink all that oil,
And to commute to cities, go to those bars,
Invest in those stocks, investments they go far,
And be the good son, with that beautiful responsibility,
And grow the pile, and then celebrate our ability,
For a life of success, and of an apparent joy,
I am supposed to feel, for being able to convert that lead,
Into a deal, and add another customer, they breed
To impose deadlines on the labor, and take their attendance,
And feel like a commander, cause when I walk those halls,
Tired hands move faster, and all I have is a tired smile to offer,
Their salary it seems, is bled in an hour, when I feel I deserve,
A break from this noisy scene. Reality grips me then,
I need to continue, to change the system, you can’t just eschew,
Words and thoughts on paper, policies that are made,
Far away from the grips of a ground level change,
Opportunity for everyone to be better than they came,
Or is just a justification to continue the dirty game?

Look around, you won’t find a mind so precious to explore,
As the one, resting between your eyes, yet you bored.
Smoke those thoughts, Ignite that dream, to fuel the spark,
forgive yourself, The passion lives, it ain’t yet dark,
See the steps, you once carved, note the calluses on your palm,
It’s not written in the stars, life is forged with these arms.
Swallow that pill, feel it drown, in the depths of the torrid past,
Lessons absorbed like vitamins, it’s just the interval, possibilities avast.
Trade your shoes, for the spikes, And trade that mindset to
The rocky terrain of your plateau, now ascends, the mountains to ensue.
The path well tread, the trail ain’t new, there are valleys and rivers and naysayers too,
Carcasses all around, because they forgot, no summit to be found, the climb continues

Sachai he in shabdo ki banawat mein,
Baaton se rooh ki us galawat mein.
Yaadein shor se ab bani aahatein,
Kaisi beheki hui si thi wo chahtein.
Niharoon zakhm ka nishan, raaton mein
Naye sheher mein jaise purani imaratein.
Dard hua, par ho gaya ab arsa he,
kharacho khoon ab bhi nikalta he,
Nah nafrat he, na hi pyaar bacha he,
Badla bhi nahi, na intezaar raha he.
Ek ajab khauf kabhi phir uth jaata he,
Phir kamzaor kyun tu khud ko paata he?
Jo jung mein rauf rakh ruk jaata he,
yaad rakh-
Granthon mein naam unhi ka likha jaata he.

Brazen and blunt, a broken blade like tongue,
Simply spitting sorrowful similes, alliterations slung
Across to put all these feelings into rhymes,
This heaviness floats, emotions illuminate the chimes
Rung rhythmically, rhetoric a simple tool
Manipulating the miseries of our memory fooled,
Meaningless words measured in meters to emote,
A tool to express, protecting the self like a moat,
Removed from the art, the person exists,
Who knows his story, the reasons for what is
Thrown across in these lines so often,
Technically weak, self-confidence is rotten,
Falling back on a skill forgotten, words pour
At strange hours, minutes spared and then b ored
By his own miserable mind, seeking answers
For questions unsettled, thoughts without anchors,
People? Ghosts come and go as they please,
With these words who are you even trying to appease,
Writing about writing, a poetic Mille-feuille,
Layered with distractions, it’s a tempting decoy.

Forged over the years, these walls,
There is even an electric fence involved.
Many would have carved their way,
Using bare hands and tools at bay.
But how does one navigate?
They said they’d want you to stay,
Barriers impeached, oceans sailed,
The defence too strong, the attack prevailed,
Smoke it out, these aren’t games to play,
Blood shed, one ought to pray,
Cave in, please give way.
Intentions pure, peace at stake,
The missing digit, skins are raked.
Clean out the mess, blocked the way,
One more to the count, fools that braved.
To fight to belong, the risks you take,
Nations, religions, love, all the same.
Making fools of humans.
The shame.

Chai ki ubal ka pyara sa woh interaar,
Kiske jawab ke liye betha raha bekarar,
shabdo ki chadar mein lapeta hua, bekhabar,
khwahishey bas puri na hui, socho kyun magar?
Bujha usne dhyaan se, phir bola ek baar phir sahi,
Ankhon ko bhula kar, kaano ki baat suni,
Kaise dekho phir dil phisla darbadar,
Bhula kar woh khauf, shuru kara woh safar,
Dui ko door rakhe, Aisi Teri ek chah thi,
Par jazbaato ke Nashe mein wahi purani rah chuni,
Baazi he dekh, tumne jeet ke bhi haar li,
Dusron ko paa ke, apni kahi pehchan khoyi
He woh hoshiyari kya, jo kamzooriyon ko chipa de,
Takiye mein muh Rakh, phir kisko tu aawaz de.,
Apni ahmiyat tu khud hi pehachan magar
Akela he hi hum, arre khud par tu gaur kar
Jab haath kisi ne na badaya tha, kaise tu ghabragaya,
Kismat ko tu maaf kar, Waqt hi Bura aagaya,
woh intezaar hi tha magar, jo samye ko khagaya,
dekho dekho patele se doodh nikal aagaya

Music shared, the notes alive
Parched lips, a roll of dice,
A play of destiny, take the dive,
Cups of coffee, the two alike.
Words shared, smoother than wine,
The push the pull, now unite.
On the spot, drinking all night,
Questions asked, hold on tight
Sleep shared, wake up perturbed,
The winter rain, had it disturbed,
Past horrors, emotions mirrored,
Running away, the reasons absurd.
Triggers shared, didn’t matter at all,
In front of the self, everyone falls.
Travel the world, and you’ll see,
To heal and not hurt, you’ll be free.

Warding through the crowded mess, he seeks
Her love, his hands too weak,
To ask again for more, he did try to
, Shout her name, eventually
He had to crawl the way.

Cordoned nearly in their rooms,
The roads drenched in the chronic gloom,
The wind neatly separates,
The toxic clouds had escaped,
This city is a peaceful lure.

A simple path he thought he’d take,
Putting all his love at stake,
The distance was well traversed,
The directions now perfectly rehearsed,
Emerged the mystic power in the air.

Half dead and half alive,
Like the love he had inside,
Cried and tried, to show the sun,
The paranormal had the world undone,
She was ma-lady and the cure.

Black then white, the shifts in life,
Had him tricked into the strife,
All she wanted now was her space,
To heal her world and leave no trace,
he had no control of the duality.

He walked the border-line and now he sees,
The world isn’t as crazy as it seems,
The cyclone subsides, dizziness prevails,
While she elevates someone else with her gaze,
Just glad he escaped the maze.

Received nothing in return,
The sun beams yet the heart burns,
Hooked to the adrenaline, he realized,
He will truly rise again,
Collected all the things he lost.

Battered and bruised, it comes to sight,
The whirlwind is her entire life,
Left with no one to blame,
No more wanted to be shamed,
He walked away. Just walked away.

Trickles down the neck then bites me in my chest,
Like dew on a damp turf, temple’s riddled with sweat.
Them palpitations across the quartered heart,
crafting strained smiles, forged a perfect charade.

Tracing into memory, mistaken and then fooled,
Overwhelmed and confused, logic overruled.
Looping contemplations, distortions in cognition
Control truly lost, frustration then submission.

Visuals take over, a disorienting deluge,
Why give in? They aren't even true.
Never been so focused, not even making way,
For any distraction that might make it okay.

Screens take their time, thought- music on repeat,
Wake up to that rhythm, the whole day on that beat,
Sleep simply fleets, irregularities are routine
Nibbing those lips, I taste the saline.

Carved in a way that it’s easy to traverse,
Precise at angles, directions seem rehearsed,
The snow swept off, smooth granite- it gleams
Rules make the city, Its columns and its beams.

It houses its cafes, tabak shops and the halal meat
the messe, the apothekes, and the boisterous club streets,
The heart however is as grey as it is pink,
The cold doesn't bother this lady, she winks.

Cruising through you see that Irish bar,
The Turk barman looks at you says salaam yar,
The grocery store refuges the afghani boys,
Passports flushed away, 7 languages yet coy

Two minute walk, the hotel, the Albanian host,
To the bonvoy club, from the tap, Prost!
Tall, well dressed, blonder than the beach,
stepping outta that 4 circled beauty that screeched.

Das Paar, holding hands, they confidently halt,
their wurst and wine their welting words,
Intimidating even though they don’t try,
My brown heart failed not to pry.

Change of scene, enter the Romanian queens,
Stripped to her beautiful bares since her teens
The city has its trees, grass and flowers it seems,
But, the banks and the buildings hold all it’s greens.