because those lungs won’t stay young for too long.

they say the air is turning wild

unfathomable humans have woven their magic.

the surface seemed too unscathed too beastly

with untamed splashes

of stains all over wrong places.

We have this problem you see, we want our presence felt at a place we have laid

our body parts on

and footprints are only but a temporary means to leave marks.

They started with red. Too much of red within and hardly a streak outside,

yeah sometimes a splash across the evening sky doesn’t count.

So they found a way.

Why not, in the name of a better life a better world a better god, play the game of cutting each other?


Earth has been tainted and coloured now.

Pieces of meat strewn around, oh look at the rivers.

They won’t boast of purity now.

Red. They like things red. It has a primal force

that no green blue or brown of the world

can match.


No. Something is wrong.

This doesn’t feel complete.

Something is missing


Yes! Her skin is too clear and ego rampant.

The rage and storm is brewing faster than the Harvey. Let us mark her.

Leave imprints of naked fingers over her empty arms and unmarked legs, complete the artwork with cigarette butt marks at other places.

There. Now you can breathe.

What were you saying about the air?

I know you haven’t slept more peacefully.


Spread your arms wide enough to contain

all the happiness there is.

You don’t find it easy these days.

Fill every ounce of air there is

within those alveoli and let the vocal cords do their magic.

Inhale happiness and exhale laughter. *breathe in-breathe out*

Don’t forget the eyes.

I see them happy today. Moments, like these is what I live for.

Just let the feral take over your body and

Let the wolves know you are home.

No no. Don’t stop because they are looking.

They always do.

I told you.

Happiness doesn’t come easy here.

Remind them of sunny oceans and warm cups of tea in monsoon

of Christmas lights and fairy tales because

Claws of hierarchy has gnawed into

their arteries and the veins too, haven’t been spared.

You see, they are hurting everywhere.

Laugh and make them believe in piggyback rides and mistletoe kisses

of tooth fairies and sheer old good luck.

Let them see you laughter and burn on a pyre built on their altar

because they are way too high on vodka

to remember how it feels to

have heart broken and skin sutured

to have the ground crack open beneath bare feet and fall.

But more importantly, they have forgotten to swat away dust

from the back of their khakhi shorts and

find their way away from the riot

to set the world on fire.


because you are drowning.

And what better place to hide those useless, unwelcoming tears

Than under water.

You think you own yourself? You are the masters of your fate? Your destiny?

You think you decide what’ll happen to you?

Think again.

I will give you two seconds.


there. I just proved my point. I made you think, made you hear me out.

Everyday you get up to the drumrolls of feminism, secularism, nationalism and the likes

yet, every frequency of those sound waves hitting your eardrums

doesn’t manage to make it’s home inside your skin.

You still hope that the guy whose eyes your eyes met

at the bar of your friend’s funeral would text you.

You expect piercing bullets to not leave marks and trees

to offer you shade when you have cut them all down.

You expect the city to offer gold when all you have showered it with,

are your whimsical tears. Go on. Let it fall.

It’s the least of yourself you can give.

Cry, because a woman is raped every 15 minutes.

Cry, because someone’s dies on the road every 4 minutes.

Cry, because 21 children under the age of 5 die every minute

Cry, because we are meticulously killing humanity to silence the holocaust within

but we forget that Hitler, was one of us.


Because reasoning is light years away and

emotion is hot metal over wet tongue.

You are made up of star dust yet

you aren’t shining bright enough.

Frantic nights spent over long distance phone calls and

equal number of days of being sprawled over the atlas

Making paper dreams and combustible promises won’t leave any mark.

G strings and polaroids done right may

seem like a bloody paradise but

oh it is all a facade, so do not remain silent.

i see the blazing inferno behind monkey masks and plastic laughs so


Stop with the filters and the god forsaken hearts.

You are an incomplete page of an incredible book

And you need to scream out loud.

Scream, till words are forced to leave the comfort of A4 sizes and dear diaries.

Scream, till it is not monochrome everywhere and shops don’t just sell the bedsheets red.

Scream, because your laughter has left the distorted shadows that haunt the roads you once called home and threaten to wipe away a little more.

Scream, till every syllable that never left your mouth

finds a pyre to burn off ambiguity and bring back hope into newspaper headlines and shadowed baggy eyes.

Scream with every father, friend and daughter till their demons are murdered in their own nightmares and they find a corner to lay their head to rest.







you will go with fall leaves sans epitaph over your cold tombstone.

Build a fountain over your coffin while you still can

because tomorrow

no one would be left to mourn.



bitter lemonade.


The word defines me. Mother should have

named me that – awkward.

My right foot came in front of my left

when I tried walking. I was one.

I tripped, fell and looked around, dazed.


A W K W A R D.


3rd grade.

Math teacher wanted a

Math textbook for the

Math oral exam.

I ran clutching mine, the idea of her possessing MY textbook

for the examination, gave me the happiness of winning a marathon.

(don’t judge)


So, I ran.

hair flying everywhere/ limbs gone awry and

thrust the book right at her hand which

rested on a book. The collision tore the book.

her book, not mine.

I haven’t seen a face redder than hers till date.

There I stood being at the podium and in one moment,

someone punched me right at my stomach.

There you go – awkward.


Until, I met her.

Just like that, the jigsaw puzzle I was trying to solve for 12 years

had a face.

Apparently, I was holding the last piece in the wrong direction.

Effortlessly, we held hands and tiptoed our way right through

boys diwalis tears and broken hearts

bunny-teeth acne algebra and mondays.

Ours was an origami that no one could create

morse code communications no one could decipher.

Friendship so rock solid that no permutations or combinations could do us apart.


11 years ago, we met.

9 years ago, she left.




It’s been 108 months yet my closet of reasoning stays empty

but I have a room full of questions.

The four walls scream/ the ceiling a volatile emotional mess/ the floor

strewn with all pieces of puzzles and

no two pieces fit anymore.


That’s it.

I am done with it.

I am going to lock the door today and heat the key

in the furnace till it melts, evaporates and ceases to exist

for the naked eyes.

I trip/ I fall/ I stutter when new faces appear/I break things/

I am awkward,

But dropping the glass is sweeter than

stepping on the shards of someone else’s fault.

I don’t need faux magicians anymore.


This poem, is NOT for her.

because I don’t write poetry for airplanes that never take off

and this one was engineered wrong.

This is for YOU. Remember,

Somethings are better left lost.


The Vanishing Whisper

To all those stories that didn’t happen when they should have
To all those stories that have unfinished business
To all those stories that would never be written
To all those stories that would never see an end.

He loved her.
She didn’t.

He saw the sun
And the stars
In her eyes.
She didn’t care
To look him
In the eye.

He waited till
The vines of
Strangled him.

He left.

The tree
Was bare
And the sky
Was bereft.

She remembered.
The glimmer
Of hope
In those eyes.
Those eyes
That she didn’t
To look into.

She begged
And vowed
And cried
To no avail.

She wanted more
He didn’t.



“Top your class Beta. Why did you score less than XYZ?”
“Put in your cent percent and ace 12th grade; your life is set.”
“Get good pointers in college, will you? Companies won’t recruit you.
Do your PG and you will get an amazing job.”
Get married, have kids and settle down now.
Welcome to the world
of worrying about them topping, acing, getting a job
and settling in life – And the pattern goes on.

Before it’s too late. They are talking about paper wings and castles
of sand.

I got a pair of paper wings that
Will take me to Brobdingnagian heights.
They have speckles of gold over blotches of rainbow.
Oh! Such a beautiful sight.

‘Fly my girl! To the mountains.
Move boulders with all your might.
Then come to rest in the Shore Castle
And have a beautiful night.’

Patience and perseverance
Clouded my mind.
The shroud of happy times kept me
Awake all night.

Today was the day when I shall finally give
Wings to my dreams that I
Saw perpetually every night.
I wore them with pride
And carried a small smile.
Nor rain nor hail could falter
My vow to rise.

Grey clouds announced their approach.
They lurked their way through
And caged the sun from all sides.
Rain and wind gashed the earth
Quavering my stout resolve.

I looked hopefully at
My harnessed wings.
Alas! The colours were oozing their way
Towards the brown terrain.
They were nothing but a pair of muck
That mocked me.

I tore them away from my body.
It wasn’t the cold but
The Hope
Which crumbled before my eyes
That made me tremble.

‘It’s ok.
Get yourself together. I still have the
Shore Castle waiting for me
To have a beautiful night.’

I reached the shore.
The sea was high and uncouth,
Lashing the shores with
All it’s puissance.

I searched frantically for the Shore Castle.
They had promised
It shall shelter me from rage and snow
That danced
Among the mortals and bones.

I tripped and fell
Face down on the shore.
Salt and grit hit me hard;
Supervened by the ugly truth.

They lied to me and fed me
With desires, hopes and delusions.
‘You are doing all this for a beautiful tomorrow.
Envisage a happy face.’
It took me apart – One pearl at a time
From the necklace I had woven every day and every night.

They gave me wings
To fly to soaring heights.
And built castles made of sand and bright.
I didn’t know that wings of paper
Would decimate when I try
To let my dreams fly.
Nor did I realize that
Castles of sand shall disappear
When the Sea will rise
To erase the prints of yesternight.



Battling Minds – a melancholic strain


During the last three years in Rachana (School) I kind of discovered my passion to write. Also these were the years when we were introduced to the works of Shakespeare and Frost. It introduced me to myriad of new words wanting me to use them all in my poems. So here goes one such attempt in standard 10th in the memory of my first pet, a turtle called Gicoo.


Thunderstorms blew with full might,
Breaking the silence of the night.
The sea was scowling and shrieking,
The waves were raging white.

The shore had grown fatal.
The sky stood raging dark.
The wind grew wilder and wilder,
And the night turned drearier and dreairer.

The anguish in my heart was unbearable,
The bond was completely unbreakable,
I stood on the sandy shore,
With tears streaming down my eyes.

My heart wept like the drizzle,
My knees touched the shore,
The loss was forever,
And the gone would never come back.

I trampled over the sandy shore,
The sore in my heart prevailed.
I was dismayed by the incident,
Which left me grieving and bereft.

What hurt, was that winsome face;
Those beautiful serene eyes.
Which were now, nothing
But a dissipating memory.
What remained was a lonely heart,
The lamented in agony and distress.

Those memories flowed back to me,
Those happy moments at the glen,
Those sweet moments together,
Left me bemoaning in solitude.

The dawn broke and the sun rose,
The birds chirped with zeal,
The sky stood blue and divine,
The sea was vast and calm.

I curbed my agony and solitude,
Fought the feeling of dissolution,
Conquered my bereft heart, and
Wiped away those tears.

With the first blessing of the sun,
And the first swish of the breeze,
I began my life anew and afresh,
With ecstasy, enrapture and enthrall.




Photo by Amrutha S

It bide there.
Anticipating trepidation.
Caught in turmoil.
Bound and gagged.
It should have been left solus.
It should have been chivalrous.
But blame the shenanigans.
Renounce it.
Let it fly.
It’s been too long.
It has suffered too much.
Let it go. Let it go.

Kashmir is mesmerizing. The place is nothing less of heaven.The snow clad state with it’s pristine flora and mountains would make you want to live there. The natives treat every tourist as their own. Words cannot describe it’s beauty. But it is in turmoil. Right from the issue of scraping Article 370 from the Indian Constitution to the plight of the Kashmiri Pandits, the land has seen more terror and bloodshed than any other place.

I hope peace finds it’s way soon.


hope and sanity