Who are you?

Who are you?
Somebody whom I think I know
Or just an imagination,
Who claims to know me?

Are you that unearthly tuft of grass,
Lying on the ground,
Years ago,
Seemingly real,
When I rewind, it reads,
“Error 404: File not found.”?

Are you an era,
Where parody becomes the new praise,
Clarity defines haze?
A face in the crowd that stands still,
And when I look around,
I fall prey to my demons again.

Who are you?
The face of the one I see,
And the soul of somebody I feel?
Do you know who you are?
Do you belong to this unreal reality?


Hey, can you see?
The flowers of my presence,
Confide in your evening.
I try to stand strong,
Why do you shake me up?
Why do you make me sink?
Why do I die broke in your penury?

Hey, look up!
Will you please?
I see strangers,
People like you and me;
We stand quite,
They hit us like nobody.

Hey, don’t you worry!
By mistake,
I won’t tell you to anybody.
A battle you are,
Never to be fought.
I am lost in myself,
Liberated in your thought.


Flashes of light
Drowning unknown faces;
You cannot see yourself,
How can you see anyone else?
You’re lost
But you don’t know in whose world.

You don’t even know
Whether these flashes of light
That you’re holding on to
Will die out
Or just
Enbalm you for a moment.

A frizzy moment;
Scratching your nerves,
Ticking on your mind,
Preying on your soul,
Fading out in a moment.


The doleful night begs for a calm closure,
Sleepless eyes hanker for darkness;
Nostalgia screams out in agony,
To get rid of it’s existence.
I wonder,
How strong is my Persistence?

Whenever I look back,
I see your eyes stealing the smile
Of your lips locked up by Denial.
Seconds spin yarns in seconds
To give rise to a number of years;
You stand behind me,
Ageless, flawless and speechless.

You dwell in the intricacies of my silence;
Words flow out of my eyes as droplets of Reminescence.
Trials of forgetting you have
Etched your presence deeply on my mind.
Far away from the ‘Fading Green’,
We will see each other in the woods,
Once again.
And there, you will be mine.

Remembered the roses

-“What’s your favourite story in our prose book?”

-“Remember the roses, by Avery Taylor.”

That story was not a part of our syllabus but the sweetness with which he uttered it’s title, aroused a “brow arching” curiosity in my mind.
I went back home, left no stones unturned to avoid an unnecessary round of questions from my parents,  headed straight towards my room and kept on flipping the pages of the book until I found the right one; I was startled to find two roses stuffed in there! I couldn’t read the story and it has remained untouched since then.

I stopped seeing him after that; I wish I had not tried to find the answers to some questions that were lingering inside my head, a demise blends “forever” with “never” in a tricky way, that makes denial more consoling as compared to acceptance and at one point we are left with no choice other than succumbing to the situation.
He left behind a memory that haunts me even after years and it grieves a lot to say, “Yes, I remembered the roses…”

The coin

In an unpleasant moment of silence,
Emotions bottled up in years,
Unable to break the confines of the rosy liars,
Twinkled in her eyes.

Goodbyes got exchanged in a handshake.
A coin was all that she could hand him over,
Parting from each other was inevitable;
The conflict between “once more” and “one last time”
Cleared up the haze in her mind.
At once, she knew what she wanted.

Did the wait of expectations end there?
No, she wasn’t allowed to expect.
The silvery souvenir knew the depth of her feelings,
Being expressionless,
It felt sorry for it’s owner.

The willingness to linger resulted in looking back often,
The trembling followers of her senses
Craved to hold on to the fading lights.
She wondered,
Does every beautiful start need to have an abrupt end?
Or maybe,
The ending is delusionary.


I cannot see that hand;
The one that held mine loosely,
Leaving me perplexed.
Observations fall prey to a bizarre delusion,
Truth acts like yesterday’s hallucination.

Wrapped in the robes of action,
Your eyes narrate concoctions of passion.
Words entwine subtle gestures,
Obscuring reality from deception.

Disappearing smiles besiege me ad nauseum,
Memories prefer to stay locked up in the Museum.
Ruminations guide me into a land not known;
Dead ends break into labyrinths of life,
To honour the quest of my toes.

I keep on lighting extinguished candles,
Burning my fingers in the fire of woes.
A cicatrix shows up on your fist,
The real gashes are elsewhere,
Hidden behind the masquerade of ‘nowhere’.
See through it, see through it!

The Room

In a Room full of unuttered words,
Monotony creeps in through the window.
Dying notes compose an unfamiliar melancholy,
And the birds begin to crescendo.

Bonfires of wishes glow in the black,
We often get tricked by some qualities that they lack.
The Room is proud of his years,
For it is not easy to hide stories and the stains of tears.

The dusty experience of the paintings,
Portray incidents that often tarnish the Room.
Never do we see him,
Lost in the shadows of gloom.

A framework so strong,
Nobody dares to tamper with his core.
Years pass and decades roll,
He still welcomes his folks with an opened door.


Once upon a time in a city,
I found a man, troubled and lonely.
I offered him some money with utmost kindness,
He served me repudiation with grains of sweetness.
He looked less than gold and diamonds,
His words disconnected him from vagabonds.
We walked a long way,
Talked even more;
The crimson Sky shouted out to the setting Sun,
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”

We talked about our lives,
Of dreams under construction,
And also about those,
Eaten up by destruction.
We criticized the angels and appreciated the demons,
Our eyes met often breaching all reasons.

Deep into the woods we walked,
And played games until we found ourselves locked!
The flimsy cage questioned my courage,
I broke it open with flaring rage.
Freed from the hutch,
I stretched my hand towards my partner in distress,
Anguish covered my eyes as I saw no face.

Once upon a time in a city,
I found myself, happy yet lonely.
Nightly images came out in a dusky evening,
Letting out my desires and inner feeling.
I walked for long and talked no more,
For I was in love with my presence,
And the mind that I bore.


Breaking the geniality of the Azure,
She strides in majestically.
Rickety trees mourn in silence,
Over the cadaver of their beloved comrades.
Her presence is felt through shivers,
A cold heart is all that she bears.
The dermis of health is cracked open,
Leaving scars beyond cure.

Obscured in the cruelty of her disposition,
Lie verities indubitable.
She smells of a strange lonliness,
That shatters the insincerity of rosy images.
An isolation so grave,
Preaches sermons of running in pain.
She begins to end in a realization svelte,
Oh Winter! Your warmth will never be felt.