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.


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.


Smile?.. Absent..

Smile?.. Absent..

Smile?.. Absent..

Strolling this morning,
I stood beneath a tree.
No dancing leaves,
No swaying branches,
mysterious it occurred to me.

The sky was empty,
Not a single bird flew.
Silence gushed everywhere,
Like a city in curfew.

The life disappeared
from trees,
from birds.
And for a human,
quest appeared.

As I walked pass the road,
I flung down a rock.
I saw her sitting,
on a bench in the garden,
which was just the next block.

Like a solved mathematical problem,
Now every twist I understood.
Answer to the dullness today,
Sat on the bench,
under the red hood.

She had silkiest the hair,
But today,
Not a strand ruffled.
Her eyes were gleamy,
But today,
they welled.
She had the happiest smile,
in the world of obsessed,
But today,
under that smile,
She was depressed.


#night poetry

The youngest smile

Look into her eyes,
What do you see?
A mischievous little child,
Or the eyes full with dreary?

She’s crazy young girl,
Hopping from sofa to bed.
One with a bubbly smile,
Unaware, what might lie ahead.

She’s hesitantly candid,
And a secretive cotton ball.
When she misses her loved ones,
She cries and muffles behind the wall.

In her world of fantasies,
She giggles and she whoops.
Though there are no fairies,
Yet she fulfills the loop.

Her eyes were wet,
And her voice was sore.
She sat in a corner,
Cards lay desperately beside her.

Neither did I ask anything,
Nor did I say.
I patiently sat by her side,
And waited, until,
She asked me to play.

Then she picked up the deck,
And brushed back her hair.
Silence filled the room,
As she wiped her tears.

After a game or two,
Which, of course, she won.
She smiled and bellowed,
And the silence was gone.

When her eyes were clear,
And her nose seemed dry.
I held her in my arms,
And asked why did she cry.

Hearing her reply,
Bewilderment grasped me.
Innocence in those words,
Shun like the stars when she said,

“It’s been four days
The sky has,too, turned brown.
No chocolate no pastries,
Mama’s out of town“​


One lucky book

girl and book

Gleaming mysterious eyes

So close to the eyes,
like a reflection in the mirror.
Pounding on the heart,
like constant beating with a hammer.

A course of nature,
probably went so bad.
Holding hands are,
now standing up to wave goodbye.

Like the drops of rain,
So intact while in the air.
We too shatter like them,
The moment they hit the ground.

Flashes of memories,
appearing and disappearing
Like a lighting,
That follows the thunderstorm.

Standing before the mirror,
staring at the reflection,
Where am I lost?
All I see,
Are the colors.
Blurred and fussy,
It feels like
the mind is dipped-
in a deep thick fog.

All the senses lost.
I can hear,
can’t listen.
I can look,
can’t see.
I can sense,
can’t feel.
Just staring in the mirror,
Not sure whose reflection
am I staring at(?)

And then an image appears
A photograph.
A face.
behind a book.
Held by those
soft and fair hands.
Gleaming eyes peeking
behind the book.
A mischievous look in them.

A nose,
those tender lips,
and chubby cheeks,
pressed against the pages.
I can imagine it all,
can’t feel.
A photograph of her,
hiding behind the colored pages.
I captured it
in black and white.

And I murmured softly,
‘Oh dear how I envy you,
For you’re a
One lucky book.’


Echoes and Memories

pencil broken

Shattered words

Take a deep breath,
It’s just a Storm.
Keep moving ahead,
It will pass along.

Not sure how,
The storm will pass.
Will it take you too?
Or will you stay strong?

Close your eyes and think of us,
It will help you survive.
Whenever the storm hurts,
That’s what I do to stay alive.

The storm gets stronger,
As we are becoming strangers.
Maybe just talking will
keep it away,
It may even make it disappear.

The days are just fine,
I survive somehow.
It’s the silent night that kills,
With your echoes and memories.



Immeasurable silence,
Has occupied the life.
Unwanted silence,
Gift wrapped by life.

Sometimes we love,
the silence around us.
Sometimes we need,
the silence to calm us.

But the silence now,
That curves the life.
It no more calms,
It’s like a thunder inside.

Like a lifeless land,
turned upside down.
The audible screams,
has become a whisper inside.

The silence,
Demands to be broken.
Need someone,
That’s the only condition.

Absence of that someone,
Speaks through their silence.
Words are flat,
And strings losing balance.

Life has become
Like a blank paper.
So much scope, to discover,
but the ‘silence
Has left no adventure.


The Green Dot

love on the internet

The Green Dot

We shared our thoughts,
But never saw each other’s expressions.
We laughed a lot,
But never heard each other’s voice.

We fought a little,
But still, didn’t witness it in the eyes.
We asked questions,
But never heard any answers.

We whispered a lot,
But never in each others’ ears.
We waited a lot,
But never ended the wait face to face.

We saw each other, a lot,
But never in person.
All we were, active always,
With a Green Dot beside our names.

All we saw, on the keyboard,
Our fingers typing.
All we waited to hear,
Was that notification bing.


What if…

what images

What if image

What if I was a flower,
And you, a bee.
For you to have some sweet,
I would have got stung rather happily.

What if I was a pen,
And you, the ink flowing through me.
My tip, as it stroke on the paper,
would have mirrored your beauty,
like no one, ever, could be.

What if I were you,
And, perhaps, you were me.
Would you have been heartless?
Or, perhaps, would I have been?

Free Bird

free bird image on crumbled paper

One moment you think
the world is in your hands,
and you want to grab it
in your fist
never to let go!
Then at other moment
you realise
She is a free bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Just to be followed
and find happiness
under her free wings.
But you still want her
You still love her.

You want to be the one
To find that happiness
Under her wings.
To take a shelter under them.
You want to be the one,
To encourage and to support her,
To caress her splendid body,
And her omniscient soul
made of strong imagination
and firm decisions.

Oh! how, how you want
to contemplate
her every flight
that makes you feel
like she’s going away
going forever.
Yet you feel
like a tree,
who waits
until her next arrival,
and the next after that

Spending time
her soothing voice
which has ripples
like the water has
when thrown a pebble,
and those songs
about love,
about life,
that music,
that rhythm.
That silence in her voice
beautiful than the starry night.

Like the branches
of a tree
that dance with the wind,
Your heart dances
on her voice-tone
even if its
just on your phone.

How astonishing
how small is this world,
Packed in that
little parabolic
curve on her face.

that world
doesn’t fit
in your fist.
It simply won’t.
For it’s not to be grabbed,
It’s to be hold

She doesn’t need
a controlling fist.
Or a grabbing palm.
All she needs,
is a supporting hand.
To fill more enthusiasm,
more confidence
in her free wings.

She is bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Yet, somehow,
You simply won’t stop
loving her,
following her.

You want to be the one.
You want to be her one.
So simple is the fact,
yet so twirled.
Without her,
there is no other world!