Dear Gilbert,

I had thought i could live vicariously through you.
that i could lie like concrete, passive! and let all what comes roll over me
while you wrote poetry on some remote island, your mind drowning and your organs imploding.

You wrote poetry so i didn't. I could read simply
I could spend days in dullness and live inside the fences of this irredeemable being.  
'Tear it down' you said 'we find out the heart only by dismantling what the heart knows'
So i kept digging into my chest, hoping to rip it out one day.

You are dead today, and i know that you chose it no more than i chose my birth.
I know that you've refused heaven
that you don't want to live in peace.
Yet a blur sets in compulsorily, some semblance of grief
Just like our unknown compulsion to love landscapes and snow.

I don't know what to wish for you, I don't know if to wish at all.
I just clutch on to your poems while drifting away in southern currents.


To an Absconding Poet

You have been away for far too long now
know this, the sea, the salt, winter falls, bed mates, caravans, lovers, foes, cheese or olives
Nothing would ever suffice

Blank Verse


Someone once told me that there's nothing more painful than the loss of words.
I have had small misgivings. Not sure if i am ready to lose now...
So i am not going anywhere, i'd rather be here than anywhere. :)


Just when to make an exit,
not a dramatic one but a well-timed one.
Like those moments in histories of people and worlds when an exit could have averted a war.

the day leaving becomes absolutely necessary, will i know?
will i be able to stop, drop and walk away?


Is surat se arz sunaate,dard batate,nadiya khete,minnat karte,rasta takte, 
kitni sadiyaan beet gaayi hain.. 
ab jaaker yeh bhed khula hai..
Jisko tumne arz guzari
Jo tha haath pakarne waala
jis ja laagi nao tumhari
jis se dukh ka daaru maanga
tore mandir mein jo nahi aaya
woh to tum hi the.....
woh to..tum hi the....


My decision of not seeing you tonight was perhaps a wrong one. especially when you called back again and said 'I think you should see me tonight'. especially when i am a little sad and alone.
I chose instead to sink in sleepless contemplation. to write a story about a little girl trying to slay a sea monster. to keep at it without any clear reasons.
I think that there's much evidence to happiness as there is to the fact that behind every portrait of a hilly landscape, there stands an image of a person we cannot see.

I should have seen you tonight, I wonder how much more romantic it would have been.    


My dad, all through his adolescent years in the 1950s believed that if he ran far enough towards the horizon, he could probably find the sky dipping and would be able to poke at the clouds with a stick.

My little foster puppy chews away toilet paper, ten rupee notes with teething joy and without a care in the world.
I live in my self created part dreamy part existential soft cloud ball of inaction.

while far away in Congo, the rebel army continues to send little children to the war front with whistles in their palms to distract and trick the enemy gunmen into killing them instead.


Of all the places,people,cultures he's read about,studied,seen in pictures and images, He makes a collage out of them. 
It is his mind's own Atlas.
Things that have fascinated him, facts that have surprised him about unknown places, places where he's never been and never shall be. He cuts out pictures off the magazines and books he's read and meticulously works at it to create a visual.


"Mein har roz, lagataar aise hi phone karti jaaungi. Jab tak jawab nahi milta." :)