Knowing Me...

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If I say I'm just a teenager leading a life as normal as it can get, I sort of defy what I stand for. Its not all that easy but it has its moments. I like those moments when they come along and they bring with them a significant amount of emotion, which I only began expressing in words at age 7. Since then, its all about the writing. It gets to certain people and some just don't get it! But I think that its important for me to write because that is maybe the only talent that exists in me [not denying the presence of good enough speech to win a few here and there =P] There is little I know and there is much I simply yap about but I make sure that if its really got to be said, it better be said, however in the wrong or right. I feel much. There are lot of things I plainly observe and those are sort of the things that I adore writing about. I'm inspired by minute details and small things that have a huge impact much later on. There is much more to me that most know and many have bothered not about. Not like I want them to. But I'd like to be known. And that's what I think I stand for, being known beyond what is known. =D

Friday, December 20, 2013


An impulse lingers
in my mind, like a memory.
I find it, growing,
manifesting into an itch
on my skin, begging me
to lean in for relief.

I make a ripple on the surface
clawing tensely into the abyss
retaining it in my grasp -
lest I lose it, lest I forget.

A tender fear pulsates
with censure, remorse
and in painful regret.

A familiar touch beckons
tugging me across bounds
waiting for me to give in.
There is a rustling among the sheets
taunting my resolve.
But I’m scared to reveal what
lies between and beneath.

A window of escape
and a chance to break away
create a fissure and plunge
this torment into decay.

But I find myself in surrender
and extracted by the flow
I swim, I sink, I wade and drown
and finally, let go.

An empty joy escapes me.
Those sheets are quietened
by the weight they bear
of reaction and action,
resistance and submission,
and much else.

I, bereft
of my semblance,
relinquish my hold
on that which makes me whole -
On the pieces of paper
now tied to my soul.

Music of the Mountains

[Dedicated to the wonderful experience that was Celeste Fest 2013 - Mussoorie]
Dated: 26-10-2013

Melody dresses the night,
and her thoughts spread their wings
and take flight.

Laughter echoes on the green,
and her mind races forward
To capture every moment seen.

Whispers do the rounds,
And her senses make sense of secrets
And sights out of sounds.

The chill runs through
Her every impulse,
and she wraps herself in her wings as they grew.

The world laughs, sings, rejoices,
And moves on
and yet, her heart and mind remain captives
Of the chill,
the beauty,
And the song.


[Watching too much Medical Drama on TV can often result in poetic creations]

We live on the assumption that we'll live long enough.
So we push meaning into everything
Like the IV drip that sustains a dying being -
if only, for the time.

We love with the assumption that we'll get some back.
Like the blood transfusion
That brings a new lease of life, even if at the cost of another -
If only,  for a while longer.

We hope on the assumption that someone will answer us,
and Our prayers will take effect
Like the experimental drug that heals with time -
If only, for a brief surge.

We live on the assumption that we'll die someday.
So we wait with bated breath
For the moment to come
Like the CPR that may just get the heartbeats going
If only, for the moment
Laden with hope love and life,
That goes in an instant -
Just as we assume we will.


Shabdo ki khoj mein nikal pade ho
andheri dhund mein kho na jaana
panno ko talaashti tumhaari nazrein
par sukhe patto ki tarah
hawaao ke jhokho mein kho na jaana.


Words get written and erased
like memories forgotten and lost.
Thoughts come and go like breezes
that promise rain, and bring droughts.
Feelings fail to manifest
into anything more than just
And lost again, is that speck of hope
in a whirlwind of dust.


Search for it in the deserts
and it eludes you with ease.
Sift through clouds to find it
and be drowned by the howling breeze.
Surge across the seas,
made of canvasses of the mind,
and reveal all but that faint hope
that playfully left you behind.


Let strike you like lightning
and let the blitz curl your nerves.
Let thrash you like a tidal wave
and let the current wash away your fears.
Let the bleary horizons engulf you
and let the world toss you left from right
until the seed of creation seeps into you
and you wrench it from your heart and write.