impromptu

pet nahi kooyan hai
bharega kaisa
khwab nahi dhooyan hai
marega kaisa

tribute to Indi via pliagiarism of style...bow to you...

Lost
In search

humility

Standing at a traffic signal, waiting for the light to change, can be a new lesson in humility for those of us who have ever felt irreplaceable. Cos for the beggar at the red light, the change of light will replace the memory of your rejection or your alms...by the next set of cars.

happy...

Happy writings?When the creases on my face are paining at the mere thought of the exertion of a smile...?when dust has settled into the creases next to my eyes..?hah!

Anguish...

My silent anger screams itself through the tissues of my being...wanting to burst forth with all its might, shattering ears that would not hear anyway, destroying everything in its wake, scratching at the walls of stoic and stony gazes, drawing blood and leaving marks of anguish on faces that i wish i would not recognise from albums of my memory...my frustration pulls at its own hair, pulling tufts of it free from the bindings of its scalp, my fingers strike out in blank attack, wanting to jerk and shake the other into recognition and understanding, my hopelessness stares out of panicky, maniac eyes, and finally settles as puddles of stark white writing on a black background

Guardian Angel

It takes a number of years to go by
before you start appreciating
that
'guardian' & 'angel' can exist together...

thehraav

raat ka dar nahi
din ki khabar nahi
jahan chhod gaye the
wahin hoon khadi abhi

shyam

hoton se na lagao shyam
bansuriya na bajao shyam

whose?

There are noises in my head
And they are not music
There are images in my eyes
And they are not dreams
There are people by my side
And they are not friends
There is a name i used to have
And now it is not mine any more

Dilemma

what do you do
when your head
becomes
a pain in the neck?

Pearls of wisdom

everybody has a plan B...until they are punched in the face!!! - MIKE TYSON

Defeat

How can tomorrow be mine
when today slips out of my hands?

learning...

Jumping to one's death
is not an option
if one has
acrophobia

Colors...

I don't love you!!!I love colors...I love the black of your hair as my fingers ruffle them. I love the grey haze of the smoke through which I see your face. I love the yellow of the days that I spend with you. I love the blue of the jeans that lovingly sheath your legs. I love the chrome of the watch that encircles your wrist as you hold my hand. I love the white of your teeth when your smile brightens my day. I love the red hue that your ears turn, when I touch you. I love the green of the fresh smell that envelopes me when I am near you. I love the orange of your brilliance that shines forth from you. I love the brown of your eyes as they soften when they rest on me. Who told I love you? I just love colors.

Shifting Sands...

My self...
I define, I create,
I flow, I delineate,
i nurture, I break,
I shift, I fall,
I give in, I win,
And then, I begin again..

A beginning...

She bit her nails....looking at the white empty screen before her, she wondered where all her thoughts had gone to....she could still feel them running through her head...but darn it!they were defying her...refusing again and again to get committed into little black characters marring the virginity of the whiteness before her...she had always had language sailing forth from her mouth with the greatest ease...her deepest desire had been to spend all her life giving an immortality to her thoughts by writing them down....no..it could not be...had she seriously been wrong....could she really not be all that good at writing as she had always believed herself to be...or was this just fear?fear that we feel when we are visiting some old friend after a realllllyyyy long time?when all you have been to salvage from those distant days when both of you were close and thoughts flowed freely is a memory of those days and a desire to get back to them?the fear of judgement??the same worry of how it would be to meet the friend after so long...would there be discomfort?would there be an eventual ownership, a home coming, or would there be estrangement forever....would a distance so large have crept up, that it could not be bridged?? she bit her nails...could she really get back her writing...could she really write again...or would this one attempt prove to her that it was a thing of days gone by...that the distance between her and her writing had increased so much that it would refuse to acknowledge her desire to come back to it...would her writing embrace her with the same desperation as she wanted to embrace it...she bit her nails...and began to write...