‘What kind of love do you want?’
‘Love has got kinds?’
‘well, I don’t know… Maybe one that’s both ways?’
‘both ways?’
‘’s difficult to find both-ways kinda love you know’
‘people don’t have guts to be loyal and committed…they will bail on you the moment they get some temporary satisfaction.. of-course they don’t realize the temporary part of it.. and that’s sad.’
‘maybe they aren’t satisfied completely in their present relation?’
‘well define satisfaction then? Actually… don’t. What’s satisfaction man? There isn’t greatest satisfaction than finding your loved one sleeping beside you every morning. Satisfaction is the smell of their clothes clinging on to yours. It is the little they do for you and you do for them. How you perceive satisfaction defines your character in a relationship.’
‘Well maybe some people give a lot of love but don’t get enough in return? So they aren’t satisfied and they start looking for love somewhere else…’
‘The people you are talking about aren’t people we are talking about right now. We are talking about the people who their partners have already bailed on. Don’t ask them what’s going wrong! Ask them how was it before? When did it start going wrong? These are hurt people. They once had the both-ways love. They weren’t looking for satisfaction..they were looking for love in return of love. But it all went to drain at some point of time. And you know every relation has their peak points and tipping only question is this.. if you enjoyed every second during your peak point why do you decide to bail during the tipping point? Why don’t you wait just for a second, calm yourself down, breathe, and think what’s happening, why did it happen, and is their a chance to set it right? And you know what the answer to that last question most of the time is?’
‘Yes… It’s YES’
‘You’re right…stop repeating now’
‘I’m sorry’
‘I bailed…and I’m sorry.’
‘What was it?’
‘What was what?’
‘Expectations or satisfaction? Relations fall apart if the first one is high and other ones low. What was it for you?’
‘The first one I guess…?’
You guess? You aren’t sure?’
‘How can you decide to end a relation on the basis of just a guess?’
‘I was…confused’
‘Oh god! why does confusion always leads people only towards wrong decision!’
‘……………………I’m sorry’
‘I am glad I have someone like you…mature…someone who understands things on a deeper level…’
‘….and you think equally shallower’
‘I know…’
‘so…let’s……….. wanna watch a movie?’
‘which one?’
‘your favorite…?’
‘you hate it’
‘not anymore’

They walked on the wet sidewalk. The rain had thankfully stopped after the downpour since morning. The street lights formed blurry reflections beneath their steps. The night was silent. Only three-four people here and there.
They hesitated but put their fingers in each others’…just like the first time. There was a little tear in the eyes…

‘I guess the parameters should change…’
‘what parameters?’
Low expectations and high satisfaction in whatever we have…’
‘I guess so…’


Randomness of Night


Have you ever read a poem
Without rhyme?
Have you ever smelt a flower
Without fragrance?
Have you ever looked out a glass window
And saw nothing but black?
Then how could you meet a person
who has no feelings?


Her legs stumbled
And her eyes couldn’t
focus on the road ahead.

Her head felt heavy
and light
At the same time.

For people passing by
she acted perfectly sober.
Because there were none passing.
So she zig-zagged through the way,
Stopped for a moment,
Stretched her eyes and thought
‘Just a few steps more’

Somehow, she had to reach
She wasn’t testing her limit
Why was she out?
At such hour of the night?

There was a phone call.
And she made a promise
To be there.
To give company.

She would’ve chosen
To get a slumber sleep
But even she didn’t know
She was in love.


She took a sip of tea
And poured the rest in the bushes.
And it was not because
she didn’t like the tea.
But maybe because she was angry?
At something,
Or someone?


One evening
She stood by the sidewalk
Scrolling on her phone.
Then a group startled her
The phone slid
And broke the glass.

Later she thought
If only I hadn’t been here
To meet him
My dear phone would’ve been


The story is incomplete
So are these lines.
Every line.
Except the one at the end.

The end.

When You Are No More in Inception


It was in the early days of my second year when I heard someone say that Christopher Nolan will be coming to IIT Bombay’s annual fest. I took the burden of carrying that message to every person I would meet on my way to the hostel room. I would stop them, initiate the conversation with some day-to-day topics and smartly insert one question,

“Do you know who’s coming to IITB’s fest as a chief guest?”

The answer was obviously, “No”, followed by, “Who’s coming?”

The curiosity seed would be sowed inside my fellow chatter by then. A smirk would make its way on my face, a pride while I answered their curiosity laden question.
“Christopher Nolan!”
As much excitement I showered into those two words, I expected their eyes to widen and their mouth to make a big Whoooaaaahh! But none of that happened. Instead they shot another question towards me,
“Who’s he?”
Now people, this is the moment when the excitement on my face would drain away within a flash, so quick, that it won’t even require one whole second. Then, as a protocol, I would stare at them for a few seconds and ask,

“You don’t know who Christopher Nolan is?”

“Umm.. No”

Next step. Time to leave. But with a face, with an expression which clearly showcased that, from the moment the person said “Umm.. Noo”, I started considering them inferior.

The truth was quite the opposite. Let me confess.

The way I asked the question, the way they replied, the way I would react to their reply and then walk out of the conversation all of a sudden, was all planned. The blunt truth was I too didn’t know who Christopher Nolan was. But later, when my interest increased into Hollywood movies, I found out.

With his every movie I got to know more and more about him. Each of his new release would excite me like a child after seeing ice-cream. Today, I feel so exhilarated that I got a chance to sit just a few feet away and listen to the same man whom I faked to know a few years back. I never even thought that Nolan would visit India let alone watching him live, which by the way, would be into the deepest layer of my dreams.

But last weekend proved that anything is possible in life. Film Heritage Foundation, the foundation working desperately for a cause we all should be worried about, brought greatest dignities from around the world who believe in this cause and are willing to be a part of it.

During the early years of cinema there were no digital cameras like today. And celluloid films were used to shoot the picture. The beauty of this medium was it gave the spectrum of visuals so beautifully that it can’t be matched even with today’s digital technology. But, with time and with the evolving technology, films started going out of the picture. Except few dedicated film-makers no one even considered to use this medium.

In India, 99% of the silent era films have been lost. The task is to preserve whatever is left and save this medium from becoming extinct. And who else than Christopher Nolan himself! Who still uses celluloid to shoot his films. In India, the founder of Film Heritage Foundatioin Mr. Shivendra Singh Dungarpur, we can say, has stood up as the ‘Savior of films’ during the crisis. His never-ending efforts for this cause since 2014 attracted two of the world’s best artists – Tacita Dean and Christopher Nolan.

The event not only gave Nolan’s huge fans like me to listen him live but also created awareness about the cause they are fighting for. Today’s generation youth aren’t aware of celluloid let alone its importance. And, let me tell you, FHF has succeeded in spreading the much needed awareness among the youth.

From watching Interstellar the way it was intended to be seen, to listening to these great people talk about the future of film, last weekend was an experience.

Today, I don’t leave the conversation all of a sudden if the person I’m talking to doesn’t know who Christopher Nolan is. Instead, I ask them to sit and tell them who he is, why his every movie is special, how it was shot, why celluloid is important, and the thousand ways they can kill themselves because they didn’t know any of these things before.


The Golden Hour


The Golden Hour – brainwork

And then there would come a day
when, on the golden sand,
been kissed every other second
by the salty water,
Our fingers twined in each others’,
beneath the soft crystal-like granules,
The orange blush of the goodbye sun
dripping on the edges of your honey skin
and jet black hair,
Our feet, partially drenched into the wet sand,
the gloss on your lips glistening mildly,
as it’s gentle curve hides behind the
golden brown hair strand, busy in performing an elite salsa
back and forth in smooth swings.
Those sea-full of brown eyes resting their shyness on some
nonexistent point, somewhere between the horizon
and your half-visible feet,
That dome-shaped silver earrings
swinging dramatically slow – giving a quick-witted response
to the eastern cold breeze.

That would be the day,
when I would, confidently, grip your hand
with a firm clench,
attend your eyes with a trust as heartening as it was
during our first conversation.
And ask you to look at the everyday, never-ending
romance between the sun and the horizon,
hold your crested chin,
turn your face towards mine, and,
before the eastern winds dare to interrupt,
pull you so close that your heaving breath
would be clearly audible,
and, in that rapid turn of events,
hold up your left hand,
and notice the extent of  surprise and happiness
in your watery eyes,
as they witness the glistening edges of the silver ring
I pushed into your finger to make you mine – Forever.


– HP
from brainwork

On The Brink of Courage

procrastination humorous article


After a dreary day with a heavy bag and a hunched back, I finally came home. The moment I had been waiting for since the afternoon welcomed me with a broad smile. Sleep deprived eyes, continuous dabbling fingers, and a painful back were about to get their well-deserved gift – REST.

I threw the shoes, pulled out the socks, unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped the pants, all in a matter of seconds. Like a quick montage in a film. A splash of cold water worked like a reset button for my mind.

There was a longing connection, a profound love between my body and the bed, like that of rain and earth. When one called the other had to come.

Just before the body could embrace its love, the eyes noticed a diary sitting alone on the desk, wondering where it’s only companion, the pen, had disappeared and not returned yet. They now sparked and twinkled, they woke up my passion. The diary would finally serve its purpose. A story was on its way. This was the day I would defeat my inner enemy – procrastination.

I got up as quickly as I could. Again a series of montages kicked in. Drawers, pen holder, bag, pencil box, one after another rapid successions of images revealed just one thing – it revealed nothing. The mighty writing instrument hid itself somewhere in the dark corner.

I took my previous position on the bed, ready to dive into the deepest sleeps, and scanned the whole room with my tired eyes. Turning the room upside down I had done half the CBI’s work single-handedly.

A dissatisfied sigh left with my breath and I let my body hug the bed. Just then my head felt like being hit by some hard, stick like stuff. Too tired to wake up and check, I grabbed the ‘thing’ and pulled it out all while lying and discovered what it was. I glanced at the pen and then at the room as I woke up. I could feel the piercing look of the diary staring at me and at the pen between my two fingers. A hundred thoughts, a dying story, and an unforgettable character were screaming to be penned down on those milky white pages ready to soak the ink forever. I glanced at the diary, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and recalled – I would defeat my inner enemy today!

I stretched my hand and gently placed the pen on the diary, switched off the lights, let my body embrace its love and my eyes dive into the deepest sleep.

Good Night.

Gateway to Madness


As the night lurked towards the peak of its darkness encompassing the silence, filled with whispering hiss and fuming fog, the world slept – unaware.
While they slept a dreamy sleep, it was arising, spreading rapidly like a forest fire. Bound to kill the humanity and a fatal weapon used by the inhumane, Chaos was born.
Chaos, unfortunately, has become a life component who everyone has unknowingly accepted to live with. It’s a complicated web getting complex each day and, like a black hole, it is sucking the living being into its complexity. What we are failing to understand is that it’s the chaos sitting in the nucleus around which all the problems revolve. And yet we are embracing it with open arms and welcoming it in our lives.
The whole world is connected together just with a single tap on a screen. Although this isn’t the ‘chaos’, but it definitely lays a foundation for the same. One bad decision, one bad day, one bad mind or one bad motive; it just requires one of these to set the fire of chaos into motion.
Terrorism is an act of one bad motive by one bad mind which eventually results to one bad day in the life of countless innocents. Chaos is unknowingly ruling this world in most unconventional forms. And it is that unconventional form which keeps it well hidden under its cover. People have become an integral part of it and, therefore, fail to spot wolf residing in their own packs.
Our, or for the matter of fact, any country’s democratic system is a humongous chaos in itself. Day by day problems are swarming in and are nowhere near to commensurate the number of solutions. Every effort made by our system gives rise to numerous for and against comments and views. The result of this for and against debate arises two groups who stringently believe their side of the debate to be true. So, from the action taken by government to the debate on an individual level, chaos stealth’s smoothly and knits itself systematically in our life.
A human is struggling on an individual level too. Every character on this earth becomes a prey for chaos at one or other point in his/her life. Our mind is occupied with so much of useless thoughts and phantasms which eventually downgrades the value of present. Everyone seems to go through a hard time or have changed drastically because of something or someone who gave them a hard time. No one can justify their behaviour but those two people and when they do its usually chaotic.
Now the question is, are we just one step away from converting the chaos into madness? I would like to share a brilliant piece of writing. An absolutely amazing wordplay –
“I have proved my point. I’ve demonstrated there’s no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That’s how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day”
— Joker, Batman-The Killing Joke.
Reading this monologue, delivered by the most vicious villain ever, forces us to think hard and, surprisingly, convinces us to believe the harsh truth hidden in those lines. Observing the world, in the 21st century, we are slowly and gradually becoming slaves of master chaos. Everything that begins with an innocuous motive ends up with pernicious effects. Misconception leads us to think that it’s the people behind the effects, whereas, they are just the minions working to save themselves from the whip of chaos. Chaos is an opportunity for the people who promote it. For normal people it’s the gateway to madness.
Whenever you find yourself indignant because of someone, try to subdue your anger. Embrace patience and it will bring you out of your vexatious self. Over thinking is a way chaos can sneak in your life. Save yourself from the unaware entry and sleep with a satisfaction and belief that no one but you controls your life.

“Maybe ordinary people don’t always crack. Maybe there isn’t any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble hits. Maybe it was just you all the time!”
— Batman’s response to Joker’s claim, The Killing Joke.

Try not to crawl under the rocks, stand with a puffed chest and face the problems as if you were born to do it so.


My First Short Film

Hello folks,

Recently I have been involved in something which I tremendously love to do – make films. The story which I first thought two months back finally was put into motion to make a short. I am posting here late but please have a look. The short film is titled ‘Talab’ which is a hindi word for ‘addiction’.

Please share if you like the film. Hope you enjoy it. Click below.

Cheers 🙂

Click here to watch the movie

A War for Identity – Let me Register (Part I)



        A bag weighing almost 13 kg in his right hand, a blue bag pack hanging on his back, and with an exuberant smile on his face Raj was back at what he called his second home. A new year, a new semester, new hopes and numerous exciting events were unfolding layer by layer inside Raj’s mind. He stood in front of his hostel, with the same smile, staring at a board which was dully lit with white lights making the letters on it read HOSTEL 8.

        The evening was cold but this start of a new semester brought a comforting warmth with it. He had realized, not as a part of his new year resolution but to be a better person, that the ups and downs of the previous year had taught him how to be a stable person and he would implement them. But the new year was no one but the same old devil with a new mask. It had some crazy plans sketched beforehand for Raj and with the first ray of sun, Raj would feel the heat increasing beyond his bearing.

        Paperwork was the thing Raj had hated the most other than his own birthday, but it was inevitable. Only paying fees weren’t enough here. One needed to go through a messed up process and bury oneself under humongous paperwork just to mark your existence and confirm it. Raj was about to get himself a real squashed up treat on the second day of a whole new and ‘bright’ year.

        The dried leaves crisped and crackled as he stepped upon them. Morning breeze blushed through the newly sprouted leaves. To avoid the crowd and long lines Raj had decided to be the first person to enter the bank as soon as its shutter went up. He was right. He was the first person standing in front of the closed shutter which still was 15 minutes away from rising. In the meantime, Raj basked himself under the mild sun.

         A man with long hair, split in half through the nose-line, unlocked the shutter sharp at 10. He had a dark complexion and was wearing a black full-bordered frame spectacles. He entered the bank and waved outside signaling to wait five more minutes. In the past 15 minutes, the alley was filled with almost a couple of dozen people. Apparently, Raj was not the only one with the unique idea. His idea was unique, just like everyone else.

        He noticed a girl with small but shiny almond eyes and straight hair, a guy with his face covered in freckles hiding under his trimmed beard, a girl with a chubby face and lively smile standing among the crowd waiting anxiously to get over the first step of registration.

        After another signal from the guy with half-split hair, the crowd rushed towards the door like a flock of pigeons crowding on a hand full of grains. The war for identity had begun. The very first step in the registration procedure required to fill in two forms with almost similar details and one small change, the amount. One form was to confirm the semester fee- 12350/- and the other one for mess charges-13500/-.

        Raj, although being the first, stuffed in the crowd succeeded to acquire both the forms and come out of it safely. He sighed a relief as he thought himself to be one of the lucky people to get hold of the forms during the early hours as they were usually the leftovers from the previous day and new forms would take time to arrive.

      Without wasting one more second Raj started filling up the form in the most traditional manner – horizontally. For the myth was this way it takes comparatively less time to fill in the complete form. Raj was third in the row to submit the forms and confirm the payment. Before him was the guy wearing a black sports jacket and spiked hair and the luckiest guy standing first in the long-misshaped line was a boy with wide face with little pimples on it.

         A couple of moments later a pregnant woman took a seat across the table. She had a long face, dark brown eyes with its borders sketched with a black mascara, and a lipstick with a slightly darker shade of pink masked on her curvy lips.

        Her periodic sighs made Raj believe that this was not a pleasant morning for her. Despite her maybe-bad mood, she was working like a younger sister of a supercomputer. Ten minutes later Raj, with his blurred thoughts, was facing the woman. The woman, without looking away from the computer screen, raised her palm and gestured to hand over the receipts. He did the same.

          The moment when Raj heard the tapping of keys everything and everyone else in that room, except the tapping, went mute. With every digit that was entered his heartbeats raised twice the previous rate. He could hear his heavy breath and the big lump of saliva which he gulped out of nervousness. His physical condition was almost similar to one’s condition before a physics viva. In this technological and crowded era, where to be the first one could kill the other, a slight mistake or misplacement would increase the chances of been thrown out of the war by thousand folds. And everyone, except the pregnant lady, was haunted by this thought.

        A few taps later the woman confirmed one payment and handed over the student-copy of the receipt to Raj. He received it like a medal of victory. He was just one step away to get out of this war-zone and one step closer to enter the next zone. His nervousness faded away and with a smile as wide as a crescent moon he waited to receive the second confirmation receipt. His eyes reflected brightly. He looked back towards the long misshaped line behind him and with a smirk whispered,

‘Ha, Losers’

        While Raj was busy pre-celebrating his victory with his dramatic mischief the woman was done with the second receipt. She handed over the original copy and said in a robotic manner,

‘We haven’t received your semester payment. It’s not showing here in the system. Please check with the bank from where this payment was initiated. N  E  X  T’

        Raj was dumbfounded. The woman’s words hit him like a meteor hitting a small planet. Just a few seconds ago he was one step away from getting out of here. Now he realized he was thrown miles away from where he had to come all the way walking to the same place and start over again.

       He looked back at the line with saddened eyes and jealous heart. His pride had backfired upon him. He could hear hollow echoes drumming into his head,

‘Who’s the loser now?.. ’, the whispers became more terrifying

‘Y O U A R E T H E L O S E R….’, Raj grabbed the receipts from the woman’s hand and clasped them tightly. And like a failed warrior he walked out of the room. Not for a single second did he dare to look around into the eyes of the people standing back of the line, not even once did he ask the woman to recheck. He accepted the fact that he had failed halfway through his mission.

        As he stepped out of the room the mild heat now pierced like sharp needles into his body. He had no other option but to walk all those miles and come back. He felt his feet buried three feet more under the heap of paperwork. With an exasperation blow, he picked up his phone and called his father.

        His father received the call almost at the last ring. Raj’s anxiety had reached at the highest possible point until then. Words sputtered out of his mouth like flood water escaping after busting a dam.

‘They say they haven’t received the semester payment. How is it possible? Didn’t the bank initiate the transaction? What should I do?’, his lips trembled as he spoke.

‘Calm down Raj. What’s wrong? Tell me. Calmly’, replied his father.

‘The woman here says that their is no information regarding my semester fee payment. I think they didn’t receive it. I think the bank from which we paid did not initiate the payment at all. You have to go and check right now!’

‘Ok Ok. Don’t worry. I’ll go and sort this out. I’ll call you’

              Raj took a deep breath and thought what he can do in the meantime.

        The next step, independent of the bank-war-zone, was to fight in the colored-receipts-zone. This was the zone where every student, regardless of confirming the mess payment, had to double confirm it and acquire three different receipts. To make things a little interesting administration had introduced three different color receipts which apparently made the whole scenario astonishingly colorful as a rainbow.

       Raj marched towards the colored-receipt-zone with a pale face where another adventure was waiting anxiously for him.
Standing in long queues had become an essential part of daily routine in every Indian’s life after the November currency apocalypse.
Raj had already entered the colored-receipts-zone and just when he was about to enter into the office his phone rang.

‘Yes dad’, he answered.

             What he heard next shook the ground beneath his feet and he felt himself drowning two more feet into the heap of paperwork.

‘I checked with the bank here. They say payment has been initiated and your bank has already received the payment. There’s definitely something wrong with the bank or that woman’, replied his father.

        Raj felt like standing on a tiny piece of land surrounded by deep waters. He had to rush to the bank and sort the fees problem but he also was the next person to enter the office and double confirm the mess payment. Time, for the first time, ran like a horse in a race. He could hear the tick-tick of the watch, scribbling of the tip of a pen over the colored forms and chatter of the crowd. He had the decision to make and he had to make it right now. But just then……..

T O   B E   C O N T I N U E D . . . .

Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette on Brainwork


Their legs hung down the cliff as they sat on its edge gazing at the marvelous never ending sky which was slowly pulling the orange blanket over its blue body. The mild breeze gushed through her hair strands making them dance on its rhythm and then rest on her shoulders. Like an ultra slow-motion movie the sun was descending down to take a dip in the ocean. The tangerine shade which spread across the vast ocean made her skin glow and her watery eyes twinkle.

They both sat there with only the whooshing wind to fill the silence engulfing them. His eyes constantly toyed between the nature’s beauty and a human one. They settled on hers as even the nature complimented it. She looked at him and playfully raised her eyebrows, a gesture to ask the reason for his stare. Words melted into silence and a smile. With a tinge of blush he looked down the cliff where the waves from ocean gently touched the beach and disappeared back. This was the most memorable and alluring sunset for both the hearts.

The temperature was cooling down and the sky was changing from tangerine to cinnabar as the sun approached its horizon. The never-ending evening would soon come to an end. It was a sudden impulse, of that magnificent view on the nature’s canvas, in which he curled up her hand into his and asked,

‘See that?’

‘What?’, she replied in a mild tone

The Sun was a few inches above the horizon when he pulled her close and whispered in her ear,

‘Look at the sun how it kisses the horizon, everyday, like they’re kissing for the first time and would keep doing it till eternity’

‘Its beautiful, isn’t it?’, she replied this time looking into his eyes.

Pulling himself close to her with a deep breath he whispered again,

‘You are my horizon and I wish to do the same till we are seventy’

She giggled, he smiled and the silhouettes of the couple over the huge orange ball put an end to the perfect evening.


A Hundred Deaths


A Hundred Deaths – Brainwork

I’ve been dying,
a hundred deaths.
in a hundred different ways.

There’s no savior,
for me to protect.
You were the one,
before you turned into a foe.

Now, with your every breath,
My Life drains away.
And until the last bit of it to drain,
I will stand firm,
And won’t refrain.

Life – a circle.
You – the starting point.
Ah! it began with you.
And, Oh! it ends with you.

It’s a vicious circle,
with memories in its pile.
And it’s now that I realized,
Memories are vile.

But it’s okay,
Don’t you regret
At least
I am dying a hundred deaths.
You haven’t even started living yet.