Dear Grandma, you taught me many good things. I’ve lost such a good mother. I’m indebted to you for lifetime. I know one way I can say thank you for that, and its by living the way you taught me to. Continue reading


Create something you desire

Blunt words, I thought they’d tickle me,

But they hit me hard.

Making me laugh at my own predicament,

They cut me while I refused to buy them.

That was when my heart had a reason to pull itself away,

Away from you where it sought a way.

Tell them it said, that yes it is still alive,

Nevertheless with tattered faith that it will soon fly in its own sky.

Being what it is not, is what it’ll never be,

Dripping down a life it wished you to see,

Sinking in the deep ocean of expectations it knows it will again sail with me.

Who is the creator?
One may answer, it’s HIM, the God.
Who created you?
The creator, right?
SHE created you. And who is she?

She made you
She was around you
She nurtured you
She loved you
She stood by you

She makes you
She is around you
She nurtures you
She loves you
She stands by you

for ever…


The one and only…

Thrill of a leftover frill

There’s always a thrill of a left-over frill,


Strange, they say you get wiser with time,

With time I learn’t what my love is,

What it feels like to love somebody else and when someone else could love you the same,

That thrill,

I look at you, I look at you, how could somebody not love this being I think.

I look at myself, I look at myself, how could somebody love so much I ponder.

Is there something similar between you and me?

I’m desperate to say so, but yes, something is.

Being loved still thrills me the way I am for you.

Kiddish me says stop here, stop here cos nobody ain’t got time to be acting less than wise.

Whatsoever way you do away with me, I got nothing to lose,

Cos I’ve lost each time, every time.

Say nothing, cos I deserve no words from you.

But I do deserve that eyes which exhilarate me with love,

I do deserve that sweet fragrance of yours which makes my heart race.

Can’t say how much I hate your fake smile,

Your fake gestures of care.

I should’ve shut the door early, early enough not to let the strangers in.

Not to let the strangers in.

It’s my predicament forever, that why did I ever say it was fake, it might not be. But I could never ask you.

I could never ask you.

Thy knows best.

When you feel what thy had not
Like an insanely thumping heart

When you see what thy had not
Like some untied knots

When you hear what thy had not
Like your spells that drown me in thoughts

When you taste what thy had not
Like that breeze which makes you high

When this happens,
Thine heart is lost, lost for thy can only wish to be robbed again
Like its lost in the treasure trove of memories

Its the heart thou foolish mind.


When Romans met the Sikhs



“Pakistan can never defeat India”, the Italian remarked.

That morning in May 1999, on an official trip to Italy, as I had switched on the BBC World News, I had heard the announcement that Indian Air Force had started an offensive on the Kargil peaks and there were fears of a full-fledged war with Pakistan. What had till now been known as a minor incursion by infiltrators was now threatening to engulf the two nations into a suicidal war. My friend Mukul and I had begun our usual tour of the Carrara stone fair; visiting booths of major companies, seeking trade and technology for Indian stone industry.

I vividly remember that stall. A company called FMeccanica, and the company owner sitting stylishly having a chat with his clients. These Italians sure are one stylish lot. Brown shoes and a red golf cap. I still have’nt got over my bias for…

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Heartbreaking advice




Tell me some truth, just saying.

Never thought I’d get a blow as it was coming.

There stood a tree too tall to be not shook, shook by the raging winds, its roots exposed in the air I think.

Left with a withered ground to walk on, it chose to stay and try to get it all together where it stood upon.

Still better enough, because a breeze was too mainstream and a storm would do. It did. It shook off the old dust that lay upon its leaves.

For all the heartbreaking advices you gave, I feel I’m charmed again.


In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Express Yourself.”

A letter to the night. From the days so long ago.


Tell me how you want it, I’m on it.

I really mean it and I just wrote it.

Love all black though when I wear white, you be wet.

All this love I get, Never expected it like that I bet.

Let somebody try me, Imma get em feeling its supposed to be.

You say what it’s like to be with somebody like me, You’ll probably go insane with somebody like me.

If it’s love as I know, So let it all show.

Tell me how you want it, I’m on it.

Yeah you just called me, but don’t you know what I fancy.

I’m playin with nobody, they fuck arround and imma act godly.

It’s always been like a next mistake, Yeah I know but only once I do a retake.

I wanna raise a toast, but we fallin again.

Don’t finish I know you bad, still imma got some time to wait for your hand.

Yeah whatever the wants are there, a lil bit hazy they appear.

Do only a bit for others as they say, ain’t fair on me I often went out of my way.

I often will go out of my way.

I will.