Bangalore and Richard

As the light breeze, floats about your face,

Cooling your heated gaze-

Your eyes horizon-wards,

And mind tangential -

You suddenly awaken to reality,

By a cackle of someone's laughter.

You see a man-

With an old wizened face -

Familiar? 

Hell, it's a mirage of my great grandfather's!

Taut wrinkles stretch across his skin,

His smile warm yet measured.

Lights that sparkle in his eyes,

Follow you - in a trail?

He joshes about with my brother,

Poking and pulling at his flab.

Yet gentle his hands, 

On my brother's head,

As he mayhaps, understands the amorphous twists,

That stream across the mind.

I notice his ponytail, then-

Grey and whispery-

Just a string like analogy,

Is what I can at best - surmise.

His head, mostly bald -

Which makes me think that this city,

Has something against hair

Yet can make any man sexy!

I walk towards Richard then,

All the while struck in awe 

At his similarity-

Almost like a ghost cheer,

That be-settles me!

We three walk,

I sing Christmas Carols in my head,

Thinking about Scrooge and walnuts by the fire.

Bangalore does evoke very English feelings somewhere!

It's coffee time and more of the talks,

Startled I find how numb I have really become-

Removed, cool and distant from all talks.

Maybe I have grown up-

Or become silent.

I look up to see Flipkart office shining down on me-

It's eerie, I feel-

Can I ever run from my Neo?

Richard tells a tale then

Of his old cadet days.

I listen as my brother emotes.

It's then I start feeling small.

Life goes on for everyone-

And others all make the most out of it.

Why would cosmos be corrupt- 

To shroud me in mystery and leave me bankrupt.

I magnify my own issues,

When really- I don't have any!

Love, is really hard to come by-

So why do we need to fight it

When it's ours and here to stay?

I think about My Babyjit then,

Shoot a prayer heavenwards -

May all his troubles ebb away-

And he can smile again.

My love and life-

Are his for eternity-

As the flame shows promise

Of incandescence.

What's the need to rush-

When we have us?

Why throw away the future,

For a porous dream anyway?

A rotten apple

You think of the woman,
With the uneven teeth-
Snarling away in her glory.
A rotten apple-
Who's rot all that she met-
Never let live the other.
Pity be heaped upon that character-
Who by default
Is a caricature of fate.
Mirth mires eyes glaring at her-
For she's a ragdoll-
Who's spoilt all.
Curly hair and black skin-
Mohenjo-daro akin-
She believes in love-
For all that it can give her.
Not what she ever could-
Coz she had none in her.
A baby she believes her own-
Is just a blessing of surrogacy on her.
She sticks around as she rots more-
Claims all lives all life within.
She sucks anyone out of spirit.
Lies trod her path -
As she fakes insecurity and disability.
She has no zeal and none of that self-respect
That she presupposes to harvest.
She blackens all beings.
May death come calling on her soon-
And free the man chained by her.

Happiness

Happiness sometimes,
Taunts you,
In it's elusive glory -
As a mission statement one should live by.
Happiness, is the soul curry,
Of all the fire that cooks beneath.
You reach out to it's halo,
With your withered fingers,
Hoping for the pot of gold
At the end of your rainbow.
But, happiness, skirts you by,
Laughing - like a cheap-thrill monger.
When all rewards are retarded,
You feel cheated off your own goal posts
Specially when happiness,
Is vested at someone else's door.

T-sah-eylu

True love is,

When you actually look back-

At all the moments gone by-

In sorrow, pain or joy-

Yet no matter the distance,

You still feel at one.

Peace, is when you know,

That your solitude space,

Can finally be shared with someone-

Who will ask for nothing,

But embrace your silence.

Sometimes, you feel,

That you have no point to prove-

You only imagine togetherness,

As surrender and support entwined-

Strength comes,

From those myriad moments of unity-

That traverse heartbeats,

To proclaim a known territory.

In fondness and remembrance,

Do you 'find' yourself- 

As you are nothing but a reflection

Of your own definition.

Joy is when you see the Other win-

Achieve and sparkle,

Always ahead.

It's not that you cling on to love,

It's all about being and setting free,

After all.

But, you move ahead,

Illumined by it's radiance-

As nothing can ebb it's flow.

Tonight, I write this for Abhijit-

A name I treasure, respect,

And feel a lot of un-named extremes for.

May he always shine on-

The diamond mustn't lose it's glow.

Let my prayers envelope him,

As they catapult him to every victory,

That his sojourn can bring.

Let him always-

Fly high.

Always is the new 'Okay' !!

As a shadow,
As a mirage,
You'll always find your smile
Reflected in its essence.
Its a promise,
That I hope to encrypt in ether-
For its heartfelt
And speaks of love
In its purity.
My words are all I can share tonight,
To let you know that you're never solo,
Through all your dreams and nights,
You'll always find my hand,
Tight in yours- to keep-
As its yours.

Blackest Pools

She had told me that,
Men at the southern part
Of the country-
Stare unabashedly-
With double enterdres, explicit-
Looks, consume.
The pair of the blackest pools
On you-
Engulf you,in a sickly
Body waste.
I'd laughed at her then-
Till I saw it,
In his eyes,
That day. 

Finale

When you know,
That the end of days,
Is nearby-
And facing ahead,
Is a long stretch of oblivion-
You know,
To let go-
Is the only good decision,
Your immature mind can make.
Issues, seem insignificant,
As you instead fight for colors,
In your greys-
To spread joy,
Seems foremost.
Seeing happiness glint,
In others' eyes,
Seems a primary drive-
That beseech the love
That you'd had once
For your own self.
You sometimes,
Wonder, how lives would go on
Post your own.
Or how much dent you could
Make by your own living.
May be it's a calm acceptance of fate,
The end seems a hairpin curve ahead.
Collapse more -to hasten the finale.
Weakness, havocs body and soul-
Ripping apart all joy and hope.
Yet, curiously,
There seems no sense of being alive.
Floating, is a curious feeling -
As you drift, through existence.
Waiting- and watching out
For the clock to strike the minutes out.
You wonder about the parents-
The only souls to have loved you
Self-lessly.
All others,
Always, had reasons of course.
You choose the best of days
To give back to parents.
And make their lives seem seamless-
So that, they may go on.
The effort, is to give them the best-
So memory strikes as a thorn too less.

My Solitary Reaper

I think about the soft velvety eyes,
Wet in wait-
Of a resolve of distance.
Yonder do they stare at-
Looking for the clouds the eyes love.
Blue sky gazes down at him too,
Benign and protective of his space.
Drifting eyes, try to catch the smoke of the dates,
As the time ticks by slowly-
To herald the union.
North-westwards,
A prayer is whispered his way,
To lighten his footfalls on the rose petals of love.
Every road, that he seeks,
Must be marked with music,
Of the rhythm he carries deep within.
May the sunshine sheath him,
Insulate him from all wordly ways -
The soft brown eyes,
Of the boy, hardly belongs to this day and time.
May all his dreams,
Find the spire to Providence,
So that he may be left carelessly happy,
With his puerile innocence shining bright.
Let every date crossed out in the calendar now,
Be a testimony to the selfless love showered on him.
In his wake, lies our way.
In his arms, do hopes find life.
In his lips, do words find meanings.
At his touch, does solitude finds solace.
Blessed be they who seek his company,
Emblazoned be they, who feel his love.

Predator

The eyes,
Ringed with humor and enigma-
An empathy and a conundrum coupled-
Of silent power,
Yet soothing waters of the Pacific.
Deep dark secrets locked inside-
Black- of the deepest shades;
Scanning, darting yet steady in it's own stare.
The thrill of exploration,
The prickly awareness of a 'dare'-
To know the eyes and the soul within-
Would be to cross many pitless oceans.
They spell trouble,
As one can smell the blaze of curiosity.
It's a territory best left untrespassed.
Yet the mystery behind the eyes,
Haunt as the pair lock gazes over screens.
Hooded and worth a brood,
Maybe, it's a caution against the winds of change-
That must be reciprocated,
As the urge is passive and subdued.
More of a wonder,
Than an inner vow.
Maybe the black orbs taunt too-
To explore depths.
Yet, scorn you, they will,
With their ingrained causticity
But not demean.
With time ,
The sheen of 'nerves' shall disappear-
Too known- this habit-
Yet being faced with a predator,
Is worth a pen-down.

De-flowering

The petals had fallen off,
And there seemed to be nothing pure or flowery
About you anymore.
With respect enmeshed to ground,
And ire apparent in the blood red eyes,
The angry feet could only stamp on the shadows.
The hand that had rocked the cradle-
Now just seemed a skeletal effigy
Of hatred.
Deflowered, you stood thus,
Yet unflinching, to the blows that rained-
As the popularity that had reigned,
Had only made you thick-skinned.
In a smile,
You bare your teeth-
Savagery apparent in every selfish sinew-
The cellular structure so infallible-
That time could only molest,
Your bravado.
Slyness prevailed as it coated your every act-
Too late, to be perceptible
And measured, by the innocuous.
Yet, an eye-opener, you,
Have made a Hero out of Nero-
Pulsating death into every life-
And smiling a coquettish grin-
At all that fell apart,
In a wreck, created by you.
Destruction, is what your sadistic streak
Ever loved-
Or just a puppy dog adulation.
Sad, be that deflowered face,
Whose path is nothing but impure!

Words

Do words inspire
When spoken in the soft shadows,
Of the veiled darkness?
Are the lips that utter,
The Holy Grail to wholesomeness.
When shredded or shrouded
In somnolence,
Are words, then,
A solace?
Does silence amplify thoughts?
And words, merely a poor interface
Between intent of fact
And extent of act ?
Should you look at the yellow eyes of the owl
As it lies awake,
A sentinel to your clouds?
Or should you let the bat,
Flap it's black wings and fly-
Carrying thoughts unsaid
Into the night sky?
Would you trust the blood moon
With it's black orb like craters
Showing a certain destiny?
Do you then see,
The shapeless reflection
Of words shared-
In and around you-
As they smile benignly?

Brother

Standing face to face,
Retracing routes of origin- 

Some discarded,

Most forgotten.
Bound by the same blood,

Conjoined and plagued-

By the same memories. 

Life had found us,

Confounded at the sudden equilibrium- 
Where silence artlessly,

Formed the words. 
And wordlessly - 

Thought trails,

Tendrilled into our hearts.

The beat was of freedom-

As also melancholy,

That night. 
Telepathic, the connection-
Each knew what the other lay silent,

Thinking and overthinking. 
As the expressionless eyes,

Formed the dark pools of strength -

A doorway to a mystical future. 
Holding hands,
We imparted the much needed courage,
To take the leap-
Make the change 

To start the new chapter.

Yet a part of me tore,
Stricken and afraid,
At the obscurity of unity ahead-
As also my selfish act of walking alone.
So far, we'd lived 

As two lone rangers -

Circling through life,

Gliding over the ebbs and tides- 

Carving our own niche,

As footholds, in the sand. 

No matter the distance,

It's each other that we'd sought -

To hold the pieces together,

And be the shoulder,

Against all the rains.
Tonight, over the candle-light,

As  I'd looked at my brother's face,
Slightly older and harder now - 

Ashen perhaps too,

With no traces of the cherubic innocence

That had gilded his growing up years-

I shot a silent prayer of mercy-

For a miracle to happen soon.
Closest of all,

My brother would always stand-
As my solitary support,
Against all forged 

Or forced relations.
The only testimony to love and a link-
To oneness and humanity.
Leaving him alone,
To chase the dark clouds of dreams-
Seemed heartless.
But the claustrophobia of the current context-
Seemed to suffocate,
Where the inner scream

Dwindled away, unheard and unvoiced.
My brother was the only one,

Who was privy to the inner doubts -
The truth and it's intensity.
Torn tonight,

I could only lose myself in prayers-
Of being united soon.
Be the peas of the same pod-
And share the comfort

That we'd cocooned ourselves with.
The care showered on me so far-
Is new and childishly clung on to-
The wall-less synchronization-
Treasured and yearned for.
I prayed for the light

Through the dark,
Praying too,

For my twin-flame 

To be happy too.
The dependence,
Mutual and gladly shared
And now a need
That only he could fulfill.

Spectator

Caught in the middle,
With idle eyes,
Defenseless against onslaught of media barrage-
Actually, the slandered seeks umbrage.
While the conflicting forces of push and pull,
Confound as they rage on-
The self also splits in multiple dimensions,
As halves remain astrew.
Objectivity and subjectivity,
In time,
Through time-
Flow on bringing guilt to forefront.
You see the Other,
In a plight,
And long to shelter against the storm-
But you wonder,
Where's your own courage tonight?
Words, measured only to hurt -
Conceal the force of passion,
That now mocks.
Askew, the way remains vague too-
All images of hands held through darkness,
And a promise to be a foothold-
Suddenly shout out their own fault-lines.
You take the blame on you.
Knowing that the Other,
Needs more than solace.
You distance you from self-
And see the events unfold-
Like a Pied Piper's story-tell.
You listen to the latent rhythm-
That has always marked the sojourn.
And long to comfort the Blessed.
Is that the role now?
Of being a spectator at sidelines?
How much would 'escape' help-
Against someone's folly in making her own paradise
And the Other's overwhelming compassion,
To bring Happiness to all,
Sans his-lone-self?

Daddy Long Legs

The distance crept in,
Is purposive and pragmatic.
The odds escalated,
Are just an escape-
Keeping the often abused
'Long term' in focus.
Varied definitions,
Of the rationale of action,
May be collated-
As an argument against the air-borne.
But if flight, is such a dream-
Why not gratify and not choose social sanctity?
Bonds, aren't for the fickle.
Words of responsibility and duty,
Thrash and enmesh,
Into an unseen obscene.
Thoughts of you do pervade,
What you feel, believe and want-
For in the aqueous world,
The amphibian had loved you supreme.
Yet all the yearnings,
Remain obtuse,
To an aimless sense of direction.
Oxymorons, therefore,
Direct the arrow in motion,
As phone calls,
Get constricted to a seconds count,
And the number of words shared or uttered,
Be confined to a meticulous measure.
Defiance, may be a summary-
But expectations and validations,
Must have a validity too.
In no-one's favor,
Should the aimless float.
Selfish, you say?
Aye. That be true.
But a vision to the miles ahead-
Only has pitfalls of the many questions-
That the spindle-shaped invertebrate,
Must escape.
For the answers are few and bold-
And may not be palatable,
When evinced in the raw.

Titanic

The tormentor,

Stands and smiles.

Surreal reels frame the seconds-

As the clock ticks on-

The camera panning to show the expressionless faces.

The boat had rocked,

And freedom had come calling.

Temporarily- a sanity from the vanity-

Yet, was this the route?

The conflict thus lay,

In self-image and self-denial.

Worry lines become white wrinkles,

The frown- a permanent smile.

The throne lies vacant-

But was it to be adorned?

Introspection reveals a dead soul-

As the vacuous mind,

Stares at the road ahead.

Is this where life must be headed towards?

A pitch for green but no relief?

Numbers crunch,

As footsteps falter.

The road seems dubious-

As somewhere,

A voice calls out to refrain,

And not plunge.

In an ideal world,

The moment seems perfect,

To precept a rise.

Rush through the fields of gold-

And conquer the many pedestals.

Yet, an idealist is just a dreamer.

With paltry hopes, settling as fickle wisps 

That marks arrows to an desired road.

Confusion also reigns on-

What's right, what's not?

What's left to be right?

What's a dream and what must be the path?

What's the way to really go on, from here?

An angry heart rules the  mind-

This road is not mine.

A debacle calls for a debate-

That elevates but not rebates-

The greys.

As the mentor had turned a man-eater,

The monstrous passage,

Could only harden the submissive to  be 

Without emotions and actions.

The eyes, sleepless, seek a solution,

In the darkness of days.

Eerily, the  answer lies crystal clear-

To the unasked question.

Nepotism, is not the way-

The forum lacks an appealing form.

There's a Titanic in every ship,

Which will sink-

Fact of the act is to

Exit on the Incline.

Somewhere I belong

Conversation spirals with the soul curry,
Cascade to hazed thoughts-
That flow on regardless of years.
Time, changes nothing,
As the core remains a flotsam still.
My brother, acts like a twin-
Soaking the darkness,
Letting the twilight win.
The endless butts pile up,
The smoke, strangely giving a clarity.
Thoughts are crystal more,
As the mind gains more strength to decide,
On the travesty.
Somewhere, there's power in the knowledge
Of the inevitable.
Truth, is a dark secret-
And to outrun the diminishing space,
The pace must be greater.
Feeling the claustrophobia,
Of years-
All we care about,
Is to runaway.
Escape the odds,
And live solo.
'Coz, dreams are many and pointless-
Trust is barely a toss of coin.
Loss and win,
Remains in no-one's control-
Yet, as puppets, we dangle,
To fate.
To fade?
Proximity,is an illusion,
Till closure gives the solution.
Runaway-
To own space-
To somewhere,
Where the 'I', may belong too.

Finito

And that's it,
The Tortoise, did reach the finish line-
Ultimately.
So, what about the victorious feeling?
None surfacing.
It's a dead end in a dead man's world-
An empty soul stares out with it's empty eyes
At the podium.
Grimace, laced with distaste,
And a deep scorn,
Steals over the benign features.
Vacant mind,
Searches through the numbness-
To seek a way through,
To fade away in absolute abstraction.
The end point,
Seems sanguine now.
An acceptance of a minority status-
Being slow, to know,
Yet loving the scathed sojourn.
Was it death of a belief system?
And what could ego do too,
At such a rate-
When the fate lies in a finito?

Gypsy

When I look at the 2 pair of eyes,
I wonder about the perception.
What are the adjectives used,
What are the defining values?
Given the negative light,
Of a self-image,
And the ka-ching,
Ominously amiss,
I wonder, if the form is human, even?
Is it a putrid petrified form,
That stares back at the 2 pairs?
Or one that shys away from any gaze?
It's not about any transition,
Just an escalation and coalition,
Of past and present.
The ticking clock,
Helps none-
As life of time,
Outpaces time of life.
Connection thus seems,
Closeting on space-
While all the brown eyes want,
Is to strengthen the tempo-spatial dimension,
As walls that erect against the defenseless.
Incognito, is thus the call of the wild.

The Flow

How can White define the
Spread of days,
Speed, a haze,
The blank slate,
Looks barren.
The pause button seems too long-
Can perseverance deter patience?
Maybe, the force of resistance,
Has been guillotined,
To the blow of flow.
Time, seems the only constant-
Change- an inaccessible consonant.
Questions trigger barriers,
Walls stand up as defenseless boundaries.
To penetrate and create a hole,
Needs courage and effort.
Tenacity lies wronged-
The inner scream lies ashamed-
Pent up to a tangible mess.
To sort out,
Would be to renew.
But, would the Flow,
Accept the perchance Glow?

Blossom

Wish never to mar your progress,
 But see you soar high.
Higher everyday,
With a lighter mind
And a free soul.
May serenity engulf your everyday,
And the warpath cease
To bring in the harmony,
That you crave for.
May wisdom always suffuse your words,
As you share your light
With all in your way.
Gentle be your reign,
Subtle, it's form and essence.
Yet, may you conquer hearts
As you cross the oceans-
Enabling all to be empowered
With reason and love.
Men like you,exist in few,
Hence, must be treasured and revered.
To be loved by the likes of you,
So true,
May just be a karmic dividend,
Unsought.
Blessed be me,
Soaking in your aura,
As we blossom in each others' arms.
Meet of minds,
Convergence of souls,
We communicate through the unsaid.
As our hands find release in each other,
And hearts whisper as they rhyme in unity.
In you,
I hear my calling.
I must have known you through lives.
Yet we live as we grow,
Wake up each day,
To see a new morrow.

Sangria

Staring at the Sangria contents,
Red glistening against the crystal sheen-
My eyes soaked in the sight,
Of the fruits floating helpless atop.
And I could draw the analogy to,
Pieces of my soul charred and shattered,
Drifting light and pliant,
On my endless cup of blood,
As I drown-
Staring at death in the eye.
Is it Relief from the Release?
Or just a serenity sheathing me,
As my much awaited and prayed for end,
Meets a new beginning?
I chant the arrhythmic song,
Hoping for the inevitable
To be fast and merciful.

Perspective

So I met this man yesterday,
Who, perchance, made me dwell on objectivity.
Was it all symbolic,
This meet?
An action of serendipity meets oblivion?
Whatever, be it,
The meeting, that hazarded the hour long chat,
And passive smoking in the stair case-
Was a thought provoking discussion-
An opportunity to sit back,
And not relax.
Maybe, 'twas time to give a break
To an unending flow-
To a drift, along the tides.
Clustered in the data of living,
Armed with no conclusions,
Is a claustrophobic sensation alert.
Hedged in a mental box,
With all 5 walls intact,
The mental faculties have gone to waste.
Atrophy has beseeched the cellular progression.
And all these came crashing onto me,
As I stared at the colors.
He lived his life to the fullest,
A rare happy soul-
His joy was contagious.
Colors could only show confidence,
And the lens with which he saw his world.
Orange specs, glinted with the green Swatch,
The greens, and yellows,
Further fermented to the V-neck sweater
And the brand new pair of jeans.
His steps,
A mild bounce,
He waltzed, out of the door,
Shooting questions,
Piquing more of my interest.
Looking at him,
I wondered,
Was it a facade- an escapist mentality,
Or really him in flesh and blood-
Primarily thought and design.
My existential crisis,
Gained further momentum,
As I realized in panic,
About losing my own zen-
My state of being,
Thus lay strewn askew.
There was not even me,
Willing to glue the fault lines.
Passion, is mostly,
What I vouch for in life-
But resorted to an island-ish mentality,
Sans any touch,
I realized, as I objectified my stance,
That there's nothing that I stand for- anymore.
No share of thoughts,
No spiel of words and sayings visited-
It's an absorption and a drainage system.
Question to combat the systemic living thus,
Brought anew a fresh flood of unshed tears.
I wonder, when does an end lie,
To all degeneration and waste.
The colorful man,
Even spoke of Politics-
A subject, I least associate myself with.
What struck me,
Was an eagerness, to see a shine,
Set aglow more dreams,
As bountiful as the blue blue sky.
'Twas that moment,
That I chose to glance out-
To be met by the grey fog,
That hung over my share of Good-gaon sky.
Irony, of life,
I thought,
And suppressed the chuckle,
That would have otherwise,
Brought on,
More curiosity-
Which I could not comply to.
I see the world and me-
As colorless degrees
At two opposite ends of
The long continuum of life.
I see most stares meet vacuum,
As the mind remains empty,
And inner peace, a jaded colorless machine.
You need a point of view, he'd said.
Too right, I concurred-
What I lack,
Is a perspective !

Nekros

As we stood atop at Cyber Hub,
Lost in thoughts of the estranged halves-
We could see bubbles of happiness floating all around.
Funny, how we both stood out,
Stark and grey-
With ashen expressions and frozen eyes.
The winter air,
Chilled us to the bone,
And strangely awakened
The deadened souls with it's comfort.
We began talking,
Of past present with no future in sight-
Most of it was bleak and oblique anyway.
But the strangeness of our connect,
Struck us then.
The cold waves and inertia,
Mixed with the dependence and reliance
As we knew our ways.
Two very different beings,
With no resonance tying needs-
Two disparate separate existences-
We remained afloat in our space,
Like empty islands-
Devoid of any life.
But maybe,
The solace of knowledge,
Given the number of years passed-
Gave us the mindless benefit.
Of staying and sticking by.
A ready shoulder to cry on-
We knew the frozen tears well.
Hearts' a mess,
We could sense the crack
And the beginning of decay not far ahead.
Yet quite thankful we both could be,
To that night,
As we sipped on our coffees,
To be nearby,
In the same city.
Never having dreamt of the current,
We had had a charted out life before,
But to see everything crumble,
We stumbled but stood upright.
Left without any choice,
As the estranged halves could call all shots-
And the ever giving Cancer-struck beings,
Could never rise up and negate.
The way ahead,
Could only be thorny,
As eyes could only envisage,
The stormy necrophiliac living.

Yesterdays

Facing another yesterday
Of tomorrow-
Is a dread sitting ugly in the gut.
Complex and continuous,
It's erosion leaves mind-threads bare,
Hallmarking the slow-burning anger.
Wish to step forward,
And end it all,
As the space of 10-7,
Gets uncontrollably claustrophobic.
In this jeer,
There is derision and self-depreciation
As also treating emotions as enemies.
It's all a downhill slide,
The way to the bottom.
Lurking decay of faith,
Resignation the only relief.
As time runs out,
And slips out of the hourglass,
Panic settles in-
As the shadow stands in awe of loss.
Thinking about the voice and it's tonality,
Stress-buds swell up
As the broken neck hangs in defeat.

Distance

Caffeinated and sleepless eyes,
Stare at the vacant spot,
Pensive and reflective.
In fact, in the solitude of the night,
When silence reigns,
Do certain thoughts turn inwards.
The lasting hours of December,
Had planted the seeds,
That slowly finds shape as they bloom.
The germs of distance,
Has truly set in.
The wheels of motion,
No more steady in their pace.
This thought,
Derides the naivety,
Quite helpless- clueless.
Where us three are concerned,
I find a synthetic filament,
Submerging truth.
It seems that maybe,
I do butt in-
To create the chasm.
Have we grown older,
And beyond?
Is it a rift that's brought about,
A slight drift?
Perchance, it's not;
Nor even by design or thought.
But subliminal actions
Prove the thoughtless wise,
And reactions gain
The double edged doggedness.
Maybe the three pair of eyes,
See different destinies now.
Or that monotony,
Has set in
The decaying flames on the eons.
Is it again,
The mental angst,
That each suffers from-
That brings a distance
Devoid of persistence to be glued.
I cannot document
All that mulls and boils.
It's mainly a fear
Of unslept dreams wept on.
The tide of times,
Maybe remain unfathomably defiant,
To all dares and prayers.
I hope, we bridge the yawing gap soon,
Instead of staring at crumbles of our debacle.
Instead of stars,  be rather, stuck with chars.
I don't want our symphony crying out it's last note
In a yelp of unvented sorrow.
I believe,
It's only us too,
While the third remains steady and sure.
He loves and shows it,.
While it's us,
Foraying into
The non-negotiable depth,
Of misunderstandings
As we forage our regress
Through these years.
So, even a conversation,
Doesn't lighten burden-
We aren't the punchbags now,
So much.
Rather, it's a fair exchange
Of expectations real and words.
My present and all it's elements,
Maybe losing charm as it rests away
In it's facade.

Halo

Hello to my Halo,
You've hit me like a ray of sun-
Brightening my world,
Lightening my load
And enlightening me
Of the ways of life,
Like the Buddha in it's wise repose.
Treasuring the novice in me,
You led me away,
From all that rot,
To a world atop dreamy clouds.
A nurturer of the unsaid words,
You've heard my thoughts too,
Cherishing the beat,
As our hearts rhymed as they sang together.
And this completion,
Is a mark of self-acceptance.
I miss you, tonight-
But rest in security-
No matter what,
We both know what's love.
Comprehend it's blinding force.
Gladly, letting the noose tighten,
As it pulls us closer-
No matter, how afar.
Feel the truth beads ingrained in it,
As vows remain writ and engraved,
On our souls.
In you, I place my faith,
As my belief finds itself,
Spring back to the new found colors,
Of vibrant shades.
Who are you?
I've asked multiple times-
Only to be answered by silence-
Is it a solace?
The silencio leads me to delve deep-
Look into myself and introspect,
The 'me' wrt 'you.'
I don't see much in me to hold or attract-
Much less, foresee and foretell.
Yet, all I have tonight,
Is my love in it's rawest essence-
For you, always,
For all days.
I wish it to sheathe you,
Protect that smile in it's comfort.
As I lean on you,
And let you guide the way,
I cannot help but marvel,
At your beauty
And my luck,
To have come across you.
Everywhere, I look around,
I am greeted by your embrace-
Living aglow in your Halo-
All humanity falls paltry.
Meager-some, others seem-
Now, that I look back,
To all that had attractions for me,
Or to who,
I had found a mirage of love.
But reflecting your aura,
I feel addicted to your light.
Gravity can't pull me back to ground,
As rooted,I stand, by you,
Forever.
Your touch,
Awakened my senses,
As it brought me to my senses-
And looking at you now,
I smile, doubtless-
That I've found my angel
And how!

The Vox of God

I hear you afar,
Like the Vox of God,
As a hoax-
Like a shining beacon,
To one lost in
Malice n Wanderland.
Maybe the path remains curbed,
With all the road-blocks of
A deeply embedded anger.
That seems unconquerable-
Irreversible.
Irreplaceable.
The placenta with soul,
Abruptly tears,
As the monster consumes all inches.
Therein, a smile resmbles a jeer-
The Vox of God,
Has nothing much,
For me to hear.
It's faded and jaded-
Remote and robotic.
How can it save me-
As I need an interventionist,
To raise a dialogue,
With the monstrosity of anger,
And the confused.
It's like an OCD in the head,
As the  voices in my head,
Leave no stones unturned,
To steal my peace.
You call me crazy?
Well,that's not fair!
I am not an ordinary plain Jane-
To be entrapped in the honeycombed cells-
Finding that needle in the haystack.
I'm nothing in fact-
Quite vaporous,
Yet why hold on to me?
When clearly, I've lost hold of me.
Pillars define limits,
Which further define standpoints-
Must I succumb to any-
Or run away from the many-
Shades of bewilderment-
Of me, mine and I.
This monstrosity deteriorates.
Leaving no sign of sunshine.
It's only dark, black and sinister.
Yet, curiously,
A certain Stockholm Syndrome pervades.
I'm pally with this monster now-
It stays with me.
Like an unseen force,
Unsettling any truth.
Beggars can't be choosers now-
This is all and what I have.
Is it sanity or a semblance of vanity?
That's made me lose my ground now-
Whatever be it,
It's a burrow, where my truth may dig deep.
No point in saving me,
From me-
I'm gone gone gone-
Long gone
To a landless territory of my mind.
Somewhere where sleeplessness
Resides as a birthright -
As the monster burns bright.
The Vox of God,
Seems feeble too-
As I laugh at it-
Is the last laugh?
Neah- not the kind.
I need to be sound in mind.

That Kiss

So, when I close my eyes,
The image of your cherished face flashes.
In my mind's eye,
I see the hard contour soften-
Aglow with the silent magic,
Of being touched by love.
The velvet eyes,
Ooze out the warmth,
That one feels in
Sweet surrender.
It is that-
Surrender of defenses,
Of senses.
The fire catches up,
And dances in the soft brown eyes,
The glasses reflecting the magnified awe.
Clasping the fingers,
Known by the inches-
Grasping the stubbled face,
Much treasured-
My kiss seeks yours.
Meeting the rough edges,
I melt,
In your heart of  gold-
That signals your persona,
In it's wealth -
Enshrining your shine,
Cementing your essence.
My soulmate,
In fact, my sole mate-
In your purity,
Does my imperfection,
Carve it's completion.
Burying my head,
In your neck's cranny,
I let you shoulder my burden,
As I count the countless,
Lucky stars that bless our days.

Monstag

The first Monday of the year,
Is quite a looked down upon day.
With nothing to look forward to,
Existence itself quite pointless.
Black mind,
Mercurial mood
And suicidal thoughts,
Bear down on berry tea-
Firmly clasped.
No facade,
No motivation of even faking it,
Central focus is on the word "quit."
But will it bring peace?
Or just render  to pieces-
As mostly the debris of the soul,
Remain helpless-
So the blow might shatter more.
Yet what is peace and happiness anyway ?
All remote terms-
Equidistant in their opaqueness.
All then, one may think of is,
Some vein pumpers of giddiness.
A day where faithless,
Is but an allegory,
Maybe a junkie may have it's own day.
No escape from looking at the dreary grey,
The fog too reflects,as it symbolizes much.
5 days of no relief,
A scattered mind just runs helter-skelter-
Like that deer chased by the cheetah,
Searching in vain,
For a hope of shelter.
Stagnant days,
Dead and in daze,
It's a zombie's life,
Being re-told across the pages.
Hope be the dope,
Much at the end of rope,
The flicker finds itself,
Fading out fast.

Years

Looking at you,
From atop our stair case-
I could see so many years,
Flash through,
In that space of time.
Albeit, you looked,
Devastatingly handsome-
If I may,say so-
Yet I could not help,
But notice-
The lighter grey at temples
And in strands astray.
The broad shoulders,
Too looked reduced,
In their coated form-
While the much loved face,
Always so merry,
Looked more drawn.
My mind raced,
As it traced images of us,
With your big hand
Holding my much smaller one-
Tighter as  we'd walked without much talk.
I remembered all too well,
The silent fear of letting me leave,
A certain shelter you'd built
As an abode.
Was I always disobedient-
To everything you'd said with your eyes?
I do know I am selfish-
But now, that's led to real fear.
Of losing and a still-living.
I am afraid to let go,
As the years would scrunch,
The spatiotemporal dimension
That life may afford.
I wish I hadn't left then-
Life would have been so much simpler
For you
And me too.
Drawn lines,
Straight roads
And a path to run and re-run-
In mind, heart and feet.
I am too shy to voice out loud,
How much I do love you,
And would hate to hurt you,
In anyway.
But I do and will-
Given the turns that life seems wrought with.
So I cry-
Cry myself to sleep-
Guilt ridden of not making wonders work
And not achieving enough,
To be the star shine of your every desire.
I know, you'd want me to settle down
To a happy simple life-
But I am far too removed from all of that-
I still want to fly ,
Without anyone curbing my sprite.
But, age too shows it's nuances on me.
At 26, I feel older than my years,
And colder- much colder than ever before.
I feel none of the fire of love
For anyone anymore.
I will me to rise above and beyond-
Fly away to lands to live incognito.
But that's escapism right?
Maybe, that's what I have done
All along.
Run away from the first sign of danger.
You've never held me back-
For you knew that I would have run away,
Harder and faster.
Yet as I looked at you,
And looked on-
I could not help but wish,
That time could reverse-
And I could undo a lot of things.
I know there's time,
To say and do more-
Live the life you'd dreamt for me.
A nice boy, a nice house and lots of laughs-
Is that me?
That's the conflict-
Resonance and Dissonance.
Love and Life-
All so divergent to me.
Nothing remains in linearity
I see all in abstract absolute.
Life veins too seem shorter by the day-
And there's still so much to do.
Endless thoughts bring on the insomnia-
As they bear down on me as ugly dark circles.
I look nothing of what I had,
Even a couple of months back.
Have I changed too,
Losing me in the process?
Scared of the years ahead,
I cannot let go still,
Even in thoughts,
As I am unable to see much past
The shadow of doubt hovering like dark cloud.
I want the nest happy and full,
Home town glory,
Sacrosanct and wonder-filled.
As happy chirps and twitter must bless
The quarters still,
As the roses you've planted,
Must bloom in earnest.
Will that all be true?

Ordinary Love

We stood leaning against
The well known railings-
As the blue rings of Marlboro,
Settled in as blue wreaths
Against the night sky.
Relaxing and rewinding with every puff,
Bro and I conjectured as we confided,
To our paralyzing fears that the 'new' year could portend.
There indeed was nothing happy about the impending
Year of Doom.
It was mostly a carry forward,
Of most horrors left incomplete in the erstwhile.
Responsibilities and Liabilities
Stood, stacked against us,
Like Siamese twins-
Some known ,
Most unknown -
And lost in confusions.
We discussed as we discerned,
The erring areas,
The pain points
The changes
And the escape routes.
Bound by blood,
Only bro could fully comprehend,
The state of mind at present.
Seeing our home again,
Through his eyes,
I could well feel his apprehensions.
The more of the white strands we see,
The more we feel that the picture perfect reality
Is just another charade,
With the facade cracked and fault lines appear.
As the clock raced towards midnight,
For the first time,
Ever-
We both trespassed unsurety
As the uncertainty of life loomed large.
Trusting none,
Yet listening to the words all have to offer,
It's a rueful grin, we shared in private,
Reading each others' minds-
And judging the action points right.
We needn't show ourselves to the world-
We're past the age of caring.
The circle is small and tighter-
Only that time itself,
Is outracing our intentions.
Love and it's lights look faded and jaded-
Insouciance grips us as we see the outer world-
With all it's external elements.
We have nothing more of us to give!
We have us and Avik!
And us three,
Have the three sets plus four young ones to care about-
As Judgement Day comes calling-
We seek support from our holds on another.
The others' hearts remain on each others' sleeves-
Which we protect with borders drawn in magic markers.
Yet within us,
There are changes too-
Maybe it's a phase-
Maybe it's lifelong - irreversible.
But hopefully,
We have our backs,
As we shun habits
Of reaching out for-
Ordinary Love.