Thursday, August 28, 2008

handle with care

i place my head on your chest
snuggle - at peace
wrap your arms around-
there, now
handle with care
coz all's fragile here

i'm a falling teardrop
hold me
and i will still die
hold me
perhaps your warmth will kill the coldness inside...

i can't close my eyes
they show the blackness inside
stay here, sunshine
let me soak in your light
maybe you will melt those cobwebs away...

p.s.: "let me soak in your light".. this line was suggested by Aakash... he was sweet enough to help me edit this...and for mah dearest love - "don't worry..." :)

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


why am I so unsure about my own own views? All people do is raise a question and everything comes crumbling down.
And why, I wonder, my friends still can't understand me? They may not like my ideas...but they should ask themselves whether they like me or not...
And if they don't... it's for the better.

Friday, August 22, 2008

smell of memories

She sighed. And then stared at the pile of clothes dumped on the floor. She still had to sort it out. Another sigh escaped her lips.

She padded over to the pile, bare foot. The pile of clothes. His clothes. In a moment of madness, she had thrown out all his clothes from the wardrobe. Now she sat down on the cold floor, her thin, long cotton t-shirt doing little to keep her warm. The one he loved...

Pushing away the thought, she delved into the depths of the pile, her white, almost translucent hand looking lost in the vastness of the dump. Her bony fingers sought a black fabric and tugged it out. It was a shirt, worn and faded over the years.

Without any preamble, memories came floating by, in front of her eyes. It was in the kitchen, when she was cooking their first dinner together, that he had wrapped his arms around her…wearing this very shirt. She had turned around, forgetting the open window, the burning dinner, everything - in the desire shining in his eyes…succumbing herself to him… and how he had laughed softly when she had got irritated at one of the buttons refusing to budge..

Wasn’t it in that very corner, where she had fallen, sobbing, and he had gathered her in his arms, consoling her softly, whispering words said only to a child, patting her head gently and rocking her till she wept her heart out…

He had held her then… she wished he will hold her now, and she could break down again…

She closed her eyes shut… tightly, as if doing that would hold the memories at bay… but then she saw his face, smiling at her, floating in the blackness… black like those nights she would hold him against her, and he would sleep like a little lost child, looking so vulnerable… ...

those lazy Sunday mornings, when he would give her a goofy smile, kiss her and pick her up, place her like a doll on the dinning table and proceed to feed her a scrumptious breakfast with his hands…

She got up suddenly, forcing herself to stop thinking, the black shirt still clutched in her hands. She unbuttoned it and wrapped it around her…

And it felt as if he was holding her again… his smell enveloping her, getting under each layer of her skin, warm and cozy, safe like home…

p.s. i wrote this post long time back on another of my blogs. so no, don't worry. all's ok in my world.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

i feel alone

in this world
all of a sudden
i feel alone
i belong to noone
and noone belongs to me
i have no friends
i lost them all
they were good, oh yes
too good for me...

and so I walk alone again
this lonely path called life
no one to tell me
"careful, there are thorns ahead"
no one to hold onto
least i stumble
no one to look upto
no one to say, it'll be ok

my arms entwine around myself
i need a hug so bad
and these tears drain my soul every night
i know not what ails me
there's noone to ask
no one to care
no one concerned i hope
i stumble and fall
and never rise again...

Thursday, August 14, 2008


“A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.”- Abraham masalo

and so we try again...

Monday, August 11, 2008


trickle down in my mind
like lazy drops of rain
on a lazy sunday
hazy, unclear
merging into one-another
about to fall,
about to be perfect
as they reaches it's zenith
but alas,
they die before that.

abrupt end to a short journey
unfinished work
interrupted dreams

चलें थे हम बारिश को थामने
हाथ में आई नही
की पानी हो गई
कतरा कतरा बिखर गया हर तरफ़
जैसे इस जिंदगी की कहानी हो गयी