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

Thursday, February 27, 2014


Caution -

They splay out the risks
one by one
in swift lines and
the finest print.
You know it all
but you do it anyway.

They feel at ease
nestled in the comfort
that, at least
they did their bit.
You go ahead
and undo their doing.

Somewhere, in a dark,
and dangerous corner,
a mind is at work -
exploring mayhem,
exploiting confusion.
And you just sit there
half-busily turning the pages.

Someone somehow knows
your secrets.
They gnaw at you
and you hope for a sign.
The signal goes amber
and you speed off.

Tomorrow, around your remains
that they discuss in headlines,
you'll hear them all say
"I told you so!"
But you took that plunge
and everything that followed.
Except, you weren't there
to see it through.

Statutory alarms go off
and you snooze them one by one
In your inertia is
your biggest move -
you dreamed of doing it all
but you woke up.
Can you do it anyway?

Tuesday, February 25, 2014


Touch and let go
Let go not to set free
But to bind
To cage
To withdraw.

There is a passion
that consumes me
Makes me want to stretch
The fibres of time
Not to enlongate
But to snap
To break
But I stop.

There is a fear
That protects me
From what comes after
The split I want
The pain
the hurt
The anguish
The loss.

There is a wonder
In this tussle
Of wanting and waiting
To see what works out first.
in The struggle
The release
Or the stillness.

There is a beauty in this
In this moment of tension
Exhausting and excruciating
With every impulse
Yearning for release
but we wait
We disengage
We unleash
Only to resist
for a while longer
before it all begins again
To collide
to crumble
To spark
Only to cease
Only to make
room for more.

Thursday, February 20, 2014


Aaannndd I'm writing again! But I've taken a turn to speed down the road of Hindustani poetry. Pardon the misuses of language if any are spotted [insert quip about poetic licence here].

Tumhare naino ke jharokhe se
Mujhe apna jahaan dikhta hai,
Haqeetaton se kahin door
Ek aalishaan makaan dikhta hai.

Badalon ko cheerta woh chaand bhi
Mujhe adhoora sa lagta hai
Jaise lahu luhaan kitabo mein
Ek panna kora sa jab milta hai?

Uss mein ab hum rang bharenge
Khwaabo ke pardo se ab yeh manzar sajenge.
Tumhari baaton ki lehro par
Ek chehekti naav sa mann lagta hai.

Aaj main apni si hoon nahin
Par ek kal mera aashiyaan lagta hai.
Sapno ki duniya mein basa
Ghair bhi ab apna lagta hai.

Koshishein laakh ki thi ab tak
Manzilein kachchi si lagti thi
Par tumhare labho se tapki adrak bhi
Kyun mujhe mishri si lagti hain?

Keh doge tum paagal humein
Ki pal bhar mein humne sansaar rach liya hai
Pal bhar mein hi sahi
Tumne khayaalo ka manzar sach kar diya hai.