I wasn’t her man…

Sunday morning, at the cafè I sat
And as I slurped my coffee, she made a face
Quite some etiquette she carried, as she munched away her croissant
Without slurping the coffee, sipped it with a grace.

Now, you need to know, how beautiful she looks
When she tucks her hair, her earrings tingle
While gazing into her magazine, stirs her coffee
When she hums a song from radio, or from a TV, a jingle.

She looked with her eyes penetrating through
Her lips thick, some whispers she blew
I couldn’t focus on what she was speaking
Some good news? At work? But she was happy I knew.

As i took my last sip, and paid the bill
She swung her backpack, caressed her new hairdo
Together we headed towards the busy subway
I punched my token, caught her doing too.

She pointed out to the baby, baby on the train
She clapped her hands, so happy
But just then gave a little frown, I laughed
‘Cause I knew, the baby had to change her nappy.

Throughout the ride she talked, talked so much
People threw looks, what do they know?
Of the songs? Of the melody? In her voice.
She told her stories, within which new stories would grow.

Everytime she would look at me
I would lose a breath to her, everytime
She would realise it, and would look out of train
For a while. If she didnt smile, it seemed like a crime.

She rested her head on the shoulders
Entwined her fingers and kissed the palm
The paint of her lips, she would wipe
Her eyes blue as ocean, make my heart go calm.

My heart aches as I now realise her destination is around now, I go back in time now.
She had the coffee, she boarded the train, she pointed out to the baby, she sung her stories, she made heart calm, she kissed the palm, showed her love as much as she can,
But I… I wasnt who she was with. She was with someone else the whole time. Sadly, I was just a by-passenger. I wasn’t her man.

Indian Army at Jammu and Kashmir

Salute to the Indian army and the NDRF team who are out there saving lives stuck in floods at Jammu and Kashmir. A small dedication.

सन्नाटों की आवाज़ थी सुनी पिछली कई रात
घबराया सा हुआ रहा सारी रात
ख्यालों की बिछी हुई थी एक जमात

कुछ क्षणों में हज़ारों सोच सोच लिए देनी पड़ेगी दात
दिल में जो थे होठों पर आकार रुके रहे वह जज़्बात

कमाया सब ने खूब है सुनाया सबने खूब है। पर उस बेज़ुबान पिता की भी सुनलो एक बात
जिसका खून बचाने गया है जन्नत में जिंदगियां जागते हुए दिन पूरी पूरी रात।


A small dedication to all my favourites! Happy teachers day!

When I learned a few words, when I took the first walk,
You were there to help me run, you were there to help me talk.

When I was a little clay, shapeless, and needed someone to hold,
You were there to mould, to coat this rusted iron with your gold.

When I felt I was no good, when I felt I couldn’t,
You had faith in me, give up on me, you wouldn’t.

Art math science history, my buckets were all empty,
Selflessly you raised you buckets, poured all knowledge in plenty.

Today I can talk, today I can walk, I do have a shape, and I do know my theorems,
But each bit of me reflects the efforts you put in me, no words can thank you, nor any poems.

You have been a friend, a mother, a father, and a mentor. You have been my TEACHER.

On The Last Morning of August

If every smile meant a word,
I would have collected hundreds of novels from you by now.

If each blink meant a breath,
I would have lived a thousand lives by now.

If every laugh meant a new city,
I would have travelled a million realms by now.

If only I could visit those realms again, live life again and collect the novels again,
Just…just somehow.

The Night That Whispered…

I waited for nights… Every night.
Skies to turn darker.
Winds to get colder.
Moon to get brighter.
World to get quieter.
So that my head could get louder. My thoughts could get fiercer. My chest could get heavier. And my throat could choke sharper.

Questions. No answers. Paths. No pedals. Skies. No heavens. Dark inside. Only ravens.

The winds whispered. Whispered through the curls. Those long curly curls of my hair. Shame. It got entangled there. It tried to yell. But it was a whisper, very well.

One strange night, it knocked the door, one fine night.
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Yeah! That's me!

Hyderabad : The First Couple of Days.

If you have lived in Delhi for over 5-10 years, you might know the existence of Compressed Natural Gas powered vehicles. You get accustomed to the cleaner, less polluted air. The “greener” air. So why am I being some nature huger and talking about the CNG gas?

26th May 2014, 2 pm, Secunderabad Railway Station : Something was wrong. Something in the air. Eyes started getting irritation. And the pollutants in the air made it harder to breathe. The southern state of India, Andhra Pradesh is petrol powered. Yes. That was the first impression of Hyderabad I got. Just as any other place, a buzz of auto-rickshaw drivers came into my ear. Everyone yelling at top of their lungs to just pull you into their “ride” and take you to any place you want at of course at a rate obviously higher than the legitimate one.


I had gotten into a summer internship at International Institute of Information Technology, which is situated at Gachibowli, Hyderabad. So about 26 kilometers from the railway station was the place where I was going to stay for the next 2 months.

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Wall Made of Glass

I was sitting inside. Inside a room. Room made of walls. And walls made of glass.
She stood outside. Looking at me inside. Looking inside the walls made of glass.
She waved. I waved. She smiled. I smiled. But there was a seperation made by the glass.
She opened her lips. She tried to speak. But there was a distance inbetween made by the glass.
Her lips trembled. Lips tried to open up. Lips wanting to say, “come out, hold me now, i’m scared.”
But  her voice didn’t arrive. I sat there and just stared.
Because i was sitting in a room. Room made of walls. And walls made of glass.