The Tunes that make up your Song


A word. 

Each letter speaks.

An ode to mankind. 

It is why dreams exist.

The struggle for life is real. 

It makes the battle easier. 

We own our world. 

We are confident.

About us. 



It’s difficult. 

To keep waiting. 

The ability to stay. 

The fight is lost again,

Only to bring you back on.

It is not about time. 

Need to keep going. 

Dreams do change. 

Become real. 



To Rebel. 

An uncommon virtue. 

Stand against the world. 

Change doesn’t come so easily. 

Untreaded roads are difficult to walk. 

The world needs no story. 

You don’t need them. 

Nor their sympathy. 

Fly free. 


Story and its Time

It was then,

And now it is again. 

The world did know how to sway.

Time didn’t have time to tell its story,

Every time it told, it was lost. 

For time had no time to lose,

And to lose, was what it always wanted. 

The air didn’t lift the suspense,

The wind didn’t keep its promise.

And when they came rushing, it lifted

What the air didn’t spell, wind had to tell. 

Everything in its time get chance to come to fore,

No story is left untold, no heart left to crave for more. 

But when one decides to close themselves in the shackles of their feelings,

The world waits for the bubble to burst when patience reaches it’s glass ceiling.

Silhouette of our Reflections

We don’t know what  we ask of ourselves,

And everyday try to fake it,

The smile is a little frowned inside,

Our happiness doesn’t let it show, 

We have long learnt the way to hide,

For long we have known to be unknown.


What life didn’t ask of us sometimes,

Was to give away the chance of little joys,

And while we try to gather them,

They never stay in us,

Such ways of world, so insane, so wrong.


In our attempt to do away with it all,

We try to get the energies going,

People seldom say we are crazy, 

It’s harder for them to see what in our head is, is boring.

Our identities are so layered now, 

What’s within is hard to judge,

And though we try to find it in us,

We don’t think we stand the courage to find it once more.

Looking Back from Now

​My dreams used to awake in lands too far,
Where days were greener and a world too small. 
Where thoughts desired words and smiles  reflected happiness,
Where the songs of past got better with a coarse voice and the strength still didn’t fade. 

Then, when things didn’t seem that way any longer,
The deserted smile, the agony and the unknown to the inside either. 
Like ice cubes, life melts and slides,
In depths of it is merges,
Lost and oblivious to what it was,
A life to another ceases. 

The Conversation

​The conversation,
There are words and sentences,
Gaps and spaces,
You stop,
You hear them say,
You agree to disagree,
You disagree to agree. 

Sounds and laughter,
Out of words sometimes,
The unsaid and silences,
And again some words later,
Silencing the unsaid. 

The clock hands take a round,
Stars change position,
You stand,
They are where they stood. 
The syllables are still music,
You never thought,
But still things were said. 

In bits and pieces,
In memory it stays,
A night to remember,
A conversation,
The words and its ways. 

The Last Call

​Oh beloved, how shall I stay without you gaze,
Oh beloved, how I used to look upon you with all my grace. 
Oh beloved, have you gone clean of your ways,
Leaving behind the paths that brought us closer.

For sometime now, the fervor has bleakend,
I feel it inside, you don’t seem the same anymore. 
How your laughter broke our tiredness,
Oh beloved, you still smile but your eyes don’t. 

Time is a mischievous player,
It changes things we thought would never change,
Oh beloved, I still sit near your books,
Their pages have yellowed, their story didn’t.

Dying Soul & the Vacant Heart

​The love I had has been lost in me lately,
I don’t feel the breeze on my skin,
My eyes don’t sparkle at their smiles,
Nothing seems to have changed,
Still I feel something in me has died. 

I savage the little things left,
Basking in the afternoon winter sun,
Kissing my cup of coffee a hello,
Romancing with the idea of love,
Pretending to do it all and still be real. 

The murmurs scramble my ideas,
The more I listen, the more I fumble,
There is no vacancy in my heart,
But there is a longing that aches,
No scars, no marks, still a bit of me it takes. 

On dew laden grass my mornings awake,
Everything was a dream, but I never slept. 
The hours just passed by gazing stars,
They told their stories in a land too far.
No corners tossed, not sleep deprived,
The clock did change days, my hadn’t arrived. 

I still hope that I find that love,
What I haven’t found in this world so large,
I pity those people who think they got their share,
The miseries of the ignorant don’t seem to fade. 

Till the time I can’t be selflessly selfish again,
Till the time I can’t let go of my ego,
Till the time I can see the world burn and still hope for warmth,
How can love be a possible good start?

The souls dread the great romantic fallacy,
In falling in love with the idea of love,
For it was never meant to be so desirable. 
It is thorny and stings your heart,
The pain they say is sweet,
What I know for sure is that words need not be always too sour.


Colorless Faith

​The vessels were empty;

And the windows broke;

The stomach longed for food;

The tongue had forgotten its taste.

Thirsty, desperate and disturbed

The mind didn’t agree to rest. 

In the corners and crevices of the city,

The eyes searched death with hope.

His faith had a color once;

With dire times he painted it with all,

Green, Saffron and White;

Helpless his faith become colorless. 

The Girl by the River

​The fiery river flushes down,                 

The sun rays braids through branches high,

Dry the color of eyes, weighed in frown,

The rays sparkle on teary eyes. 

She besprinkled the petals torn,

The banks now painted in sorrow. 

Her hairs scattered by winds that mourn

A sand that was lost to time. 

The river still divided their lands,

The current broke the letters apart,

He stood and she waited long,

He let go and she lingered. 

The night closed in, the moon didn’t wake. 

In finding him, she found herself;

What love didn’t teach,

Distance and hate taught her.

Story of the Forgotten Girl

​There sat on a mother’s lap- a girl,         Her eyes scanned the open sky,         When she saw the birds soar high.         All she wanted was to fly. 

There sat on a bench- a girl,                   Her eyes found pleasure in words,             A pile of books when she read.                All she wanted was to dream. 

There sat on a palanquin- a girl,           Her eyes forced low, for she had to be shy.                                                                       A wedding gown, sparkling jewellery when she wore,                                             All she wanted was to be unchained.

There sat on a pyre- a girl,                       Her eyes were closed, her body scarred. When she woke in heaven’s arm,           All she wanted was to never go back. 

The lap, the bench, the palanquin,         All empty shall remain.                             She could have soared high, dreamt and made it true,                                                 The world says she didn’t try. 

Oh, what do you know of her story?     Her struggle, her pain, her agony.         She had a heart, she did fight back,       She may have failed, but courage she didn’t lack. 

What society did, what society does.     No questions raised, truth is left to die.      History has forgotten her,                        The pages didn’t leave her side.