Isn't it sad That Love, Platonic or Sensual Wrinkles, like stale fruits do. Unable to withstand the Pressures Gasping for breath. Shouldn't love be like The lighthouse I once saw, as I stood At the shores of the Arabian sea? Shouldn't love be like The reefs in the oceans Feeding, Proliferating? Shouldn't love play as… Continue reading A question about love
He said that I provoked him. Do you see these blue bruises on my face? See! Here, on my right cheek and my nose. Last time, I had to hide pink strokes of his beatings on my arms. For one whole month. I...I had just asked him when he would come back from work. "I… Continue reading Daily prompt
I can't find the right filter for my photo, because raindrops are sly, they hold themselves betwixt elongated leaves: veins close themselves like crustacean shells. I can't find the right filter for my photo, because raindrops are terse, they hold themselves upon petals, coiffed anew each time a gale pays a visit. I can't find… Continue reading How to capture raindrops?
I wish I could walk In those bygone alleys That I sometimes visit in My daydreams, and occasionally, When I sit for a cup of tea With my kindred, reminiscing about The captivating landscape of Our shared past, in those Silly games that we played As days would diminish into Nights, and we would chant… Continue reading Kindred
Goodbye As I heard it, I felt Like mutilating, Incapacitating all The future I shared with You, all the mournful letters Stored in my closet That Had wanted to evaporate Since long, I wanted to Catch hold of the contours Of your being, inhale the Extinct fragrance, exhale- Those damp, dingy Precincts of my Emotions,… Continue reading It hurts
A melancholy or a latent orientation for solitude, a straight line or a merry go round is life; there are joys aplenty, along a feeling of rectitude going around in circles, with happiness and strife. Many go through the deepening labyrinth few enjoy the perks that life has to offer. There is anarchy primarily, but… Continue reading Irony
My thoughts, embroidered as A paisley, a collage of Buddhist Flags; Do you know that Buddhists Often meditate on death? I ask my friend. "But, are you not a Hindu?" I avert This question. I like reading Rumi's Poetry. Does that make me a Sufi, too? Maybe.
I spend my Nights in Thrifty silences Expended Exhausted by the Undeciphered Anatomy of my Emotions Endorphins forgetting Their Pathways Food fails me Pleasures escape My being. I spend my Days Nestled in the Long burrow Of darkness, numb In the envelope of Hieroglyphs- what is Wrong with you? My mother Asks me, her Eyes… Continue reading On Anxiety