Tumultuous Belly…..

She walked through her father’s garden,
Where lilies told stories of love,
And honey bees nested on the windows,
Often alone she would mix with the trees,
The trees carried her secrets in their rings,
And spoke of seasons fair and dark,
When the wooden bridge broke,
And the river flooded the streets,
The trees would often sing to her,
Their branches dancing to her rhythms,
Or she liked to believed so,
For she saw the skies with her blue eyes,
Puddled with dreams of the sea,
And the desire for a shore,
She would often gaze into the infinity,
Sometimes a messenger would come,
Carrying the news of her homelands,
Where she was born,
Where she intended to die,
The other she would spend the day,
Plucking off weeds in her hair,
And tiding them for something,
Only she knew,
Maybe someone that would bring her peace,
The tumultuous belly of her being…..

Letters

I write letters,
For the smell of ink,
And the touch of parchment,
Withers away a part of my soul,
Brings it warmth sometimes,
The autumn becomes my guard,

I write letters,
For the words carry,
The news of the distant,
And speaks of emotions,
I like to preserve them in my box,
The one I got the day it rained,

I write letters
For I don’t believe,
The words that spill out of mouths,
That change in a second,
Or were they ever true,
They have an impeccable memory,

I write letters,
Of love to the ones I crave,
That took my heart,
And put them back in my chest,
Sunlight sometimes shines on them,
Termites never feast on them,

I write letters,
My body aches for those,
Darkness engulfs it,
And belches them on my bed,
I ain’t proud,
My stomach growls with disgust,

I write letters,
My past and my tomorrow,
Change is inevitable,
Change is necessary,
But the mould, it stays still,
The roots rarely melt,

I seldom write letters,
To myself,
Glory eventually touches their feet,
Those who shine at night,
The day is yet to come,
Some letters still on their way,

And I sometimes read the letters,
Carved in my blood,
Those bring me happiness,
And fly me to the Moon,
I keep them on my desk,
To read them aloud,
Whenever thunder rattles my windows,
And shakes up my house,
They give me power,
Letters of faith and hope,
The love I got,
And the love yet to come,
And I wait,
For I believe,
A letter will reach its spot……

Galactic

The sunlight it kisses her,
Like raindrops at dawn,
And follows the trails of her curves,
She had the day she laughed,
The sunlight seldom laughs at my luck,
And mocks me for the distance in between,
It touches her and it glows,
The sunlight, it becomes galactic…..

Night….(explicit)

I let my guard down,
As she slowly pounced over my body,
Her claws reaching parts deep,
Damaging the years of broken promises,
She devoured the meat cold yet full of blood,
Obvious with her terror,
And with the awe of her power,
I let her bite me and mend the wounds,
Her bodily fluids mixed with mine,
She took over me,
And ripped me to pieces,
As I lay back in exhaustion,
Perspiring in the act and after,
The night hasn’t even begun yet….

Secrets….

Some secrets of mine,
Washed with the rains,
Flooded the streets common,
And clogged the drains,
But yet I hold in some,
The deepest, faded even for me,
For you’ll see me different,
The blood on my hands,
The bruises on my Chin….

Memory…..

I collect ages in my eyes,
The slow songs Autumn plays,
Whenever this wretched heart of mine,
Weeps for you,
I surreptitiously etch the days of my glory on the veins my father cast in gold,
On himself, the house, the kisses he gave me each night,
For him I am his biggest reward,
He tells me each day,
This mind becomes a grinder of sorts,
Memories that bring me smiles,
Of places, the faces lost and that stayed,
Behemoth it becomes and takes over my body,
Sometimes when I lay in the sand,
The cold water of the ocean washes my feet,
Heals the wounds that kilometres brought me,
The messages that never reached me, 
The things I could never say,
Nature sings a lullaby to me,
I am her son lost to the routine,
I seldom close my eyes,
For I want to become redundant,
Impractical, impatient, ignorant,
As I become weak,
For someone to carry me,
But I beam of sunlights when darkness dissolves my being,
My mother she brought me food that she couldn’t eat,
Bruised and still working till her breath,
I collect everything in my eyes,
My memory rarely eludes me,
The firsts, the birthdays and the lasts,
It’s satanic and angelic,
The two sides of a coin,
And as I creep towards the things still not in shape,
I talk and pull myself together,
My memory becomes my biggest weapon,
And the partner that helps me craft poetries sublime,
Makes me smile again,
Live that moment once again,
And I etch it on paper,
The ink it bleeds for me,
The hues of skies,
That day,
And I become one with myself,
The memories rarely eludes me……

Seasons….

I close my eyes as I lay down in her lap,
The fragrance of her sweet perfume quells my nightmares,
She slowly sings me songs her Mother taught her,
And her mother before her,
Songs that leads me to places calm,
Beaches where water clear as the sky caresses,
Mountains too, the morning where wakes up with the fog,
Sometimes she would move her hands through my hair,
Just like the wind through a grassland dry,
Cold, moist, soft,
As I descend into sleep, she sometimes would bend down over my head,
Plant a kiss on my lips,
Little did she know, they brought me showers,
Of something that my words fail to convert,
I would sometimes kiss her back,
But mostly not,
For that kiss pure as the first rainfall,
Hugged me like the first of November,
As summer slowly transforms to winter,
And apples fall from the orchards,
I sometimes listen to her heartbeats,
And wonder if she could hear mine,
Just like a songbox they play jazz to me,
I close my eyes everytime,
Her skin warms up my fists,
And I hold on to her,
As she pulls me close,
My seasons begin and end,
With her and always her….

I walk…

Dissolved in the fabric of time,
If you cannot find me,
Or hear my voice,
As I try to build myself from scratch,
Every time a storm ravages my shores,
And renders them inhabitable,
Pieces of my past on display,
For the entire world to see,
Scandalous, blasphemous, indigestible,
Currently rotting, desperate for attention,
Forget me for this is not me,
For I dissolve to create sands,
That travel and perpetuate synthetically,
I lose myself sometimes, most of the times, all the times,
In search for stories a treasure to me,
For I see castles in sand and mountains in air,
My body is my prison,
As it loses to chains that are these expectations,
And cohorts with the malice this mind sometimes breeds in my heart,
Born out of incest, taboo, and what brings me down most of the times,
But I bleed sweat of the color red,
That stains my wounds and covers my bruises,
And fuels the machinery of my legs,
Sometimes sores in my foot,
The scorching earth wasn’t kind,
But I walk and walk and run sometimes,
And I see the sun shining behind the clouds,
That sings of songs in my glory,
My footprints in the mud,
And sand in my eyes,
I walk and walk and run sometimes,
For nobody can stop me except the poison of my thought…..

मैं आऊँगा…..

दीवारों से हारकर जब जब मैं सो जाऊँगा,
तक़दीरों का राग लेके जब रोने लग जाऊँगा,
ढाढ़स बांधने जब चमगादढ़ मेरी आँखें बंद कर जाएँगे,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
क्या हुआ जब धूल पी के हैं सींचे इसे रंग लाल,
मिट्टी का हूँ तो दिखता हूँ,
हवा में उड़ जाते पंख,
क्या फ़र्क खून मैं मेरे या जो पसीना है लाल,
है नहीं डूबा सका समंदर भी जो अटल मेरा मत्था,
लोहे का दिल लेके अक्सर मैंने दर्द पिया,
ना जाने कहाँ टूट गयी थी चप्पल अब नंगा मेरा ये पाँव,
है देख चुका सारा संसार हर जगह मेरे निशान,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
तो क्या हुया जो मिल गया खो गया नाम-ओ-निशान,
इक्का दुक्का करके इकट्ठा मैं फ़िर से जुड़ जाऊँगा,
घुटन से जब भर जाएगा मेरा आसमाँ,
हो रात काली और दिन भी साँवला,
डूब रही हो सारी आस,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,

My first love…..

My mother lives in a dream,
Everyday she wakes up,
She watches me run for her ankles,
For they bleed of her smiles,
That she lost while bringing food for me,
Only to create castles in stone,
The foundation of which her desires,
I will always be her prince,
The one true worthy of her love magnanimous,
But I sometime wake up,
From slumbers of years,
The inertia that pulls me down,
And growls at me when I wear my shoes,
I work with all the force thats left in me,
For I want her smile never to fade,
And widen with each passing day,
She will be the first love,
Always be and till the eternities,
Till I can remember,
And do the stars,
The castle she etched in stone,
And the dreams she cast in thrones…..

My eyes shall always see,
The hero of my dreams,
The one that carried me in his arms,
And took me to places high,
I rode his shoulders,
And sometimes his heels,
I was his princess and will always be,
He brought me daisies, tea pots and ponies of wood,
The little escapades away from the school,
And cried when my heart broke alongwith the doll,
He carried me and my dreams,
On his shoulders wider than the world,
He will be my love the first,
The one who could never break my heart…..

For a boy his mother is and will always be his first love. The one who understood him even before he could say anything. She cared for him when he wasn’t easy and when he might have taken her for granted. No one can replace that position. A mother will never ask anything in return. Just a smile and her day is made.

For a girl, her father is and will always be her first love, her hero, her prince charming. She will always measure the amount of love that she gets from the world by how her father portrayed for her. No one can love a girl more than her father because he never expected anything from her.

From my experience, if both the partners can understand this simple fact, life would be so much easier for them. A girl can never take the place of her partner’s mother and a boy can never love a girl the way her father did. They can only try to replicate what they get from each other and if one is lucky, maybe she gets a man raised by a queen and he gets a girl honed by a lion. Just respecting, taking each other’s parents as their own will do the trick. Together they write the perfect love story, imperfect though perfect. Loyalty comes from both ways and it stays if we work for it, put in effort, sometimes easy as saying that I love you and sometimes difficult when the real, true face without any masks, any mascara, uncensored, real comes knocking you out. But we stay, for our mothers and fathers taught us, good things come when you work for them. Rome wasn’t built in a day….

Me with my mother..

Demons…

I don’t need words,
For words sometimes betray the meaning,
My inhibitions carry in their belly,
Mixed with scenes of confusion,
They belch out my insecurities among people,
That pretend to know me,
And mock the serenity that seldom touches my chest,
I would for a moment want the coherence of my mind with my body,
My fingers shake as they kiss the paper,
Drenched in sweat of my vulnerabilities,
The slow poison that visits me at night,
Sometimes even in the light of day,
And I put on a mask,
A suit perfect,
Bvlgari in my neck and wrists,
I face my demons,
For they are my very own…..

Smiles….

As she slowly smiles,
Her lips exposing her teeth,
One hand adjusting that playful strand of hair,
And the other reaching for her mouth,
A piece of my heart slowly dissolves,
And I grow a new sensation,
Relief, excitement, satisfaction and awe,
All at the same time,
Everytime, all days,
Before and after…..

Talking to myself….

I often speak to myself,
My voice for sometimes brings me warmth,
Shuns away the silences of the night,
The tragedies that were averted,
And those which bespoke a thousand words,
The fire in my chest that palpitates my heart,
And the shiver that often runs down my spine,
For my voice sometimes brings me a relief,
The rat race, the hurdles in my way,
They for a moment diminish,
As my voice calms my inner inhibitions,
Sometimes it turns musical,
I sing for the empty furniture,
The ukulele vibrates in my frequency,
But I am not alone,
It was my voice with me even in my mother’s womb,
My voice that sometimes crashes my mind,
And calms me down to sleep,
And serenades poetry that I sometimes scribble,
For this world or sometimes just my own eyes,
It’s possible, maybe even true or known for a fact,
Sounds cannot travel in vacuum,
I believe in somethings sometimes,
If not words, the frequency or even the pitch,
Sound definitely travels over plasmas of faith,
And touch chords of you, of me or even the inanimate,
The sound of me is sometimes my foci,
For I get lost too much in my ravines,
When people sometimes notice a peculiar me,
Oh yes, I often speak to myself….

My first try with the song Tu Jo Mila from the movie Bajrangi Bhaijaan…

Accelerate…

I put my car in sixth gear,
Engine screaming at its peak,
The wind desperate to get inside the cabin,
Hissing past every speed-alert,
I know it’s unsafe,
Driving recklessly,
On a highway that doesn’t go anywhere,
Had some exits many kilometres back,
My muscles, they stay locked in position,
For they think they have control,
My body rolls with every turn,
Every speed breaker, pothole that comes my way,
And as my car blinks for the fuel that isn’t enough,
I release my foot off the accelerator,
Slowing down, looking at the grasslands,
Admiring the beauty that didn’t ever stumble upon me,
A small bump comes up on the highway,
My senses come back to me,
And I accelerate,
For one last time…..

जाम….

मत पूछो ये हाल मेरा,
है थामा ऐसा जाम मैंने,
की सच बोल गया तो,
उतर जाएँगे ये चेहरे सुनहरे,
आज चुप हूँ तो शायद देख रहे हो तुम भी,
कल जो बोल पड़ा इस मेहफ़िल में तुम्हारी,
फिर कहाँ छुपाओगे वो दाग गहरे…..

Do not ask for how I am,
My glass holds a wine dear,
This mouth if calls a name true,
Shine will shy away from faces white,
You look at me for I am mum,
My lips if will spill the secrets in your gala spectacular,
Scars will follow till the memories testify….

Company of Women…..

I seek the company of women,
The swaying of the earth,
And the wobble of the ground,
Distances mean nothing to me,
I feel warmth through the air,
Lust, thirst or the ache in my body,
The slow movement of blood,
Rises to my temple,
A woman does that to you,
Or maybe something invisible,
The dire need of the hour,
Rock solid her foundations,
She carries royalty in her palanquin,
Her body her abode,
Her mind her greatest power,
She can scorch the fields with her eyes,
Or calm the oceans with her touch,
I seek the company of women,
For they destroy you or build you again,
Fortunate are you if both are one,
Its the meek those sometimes think they can dominate her,
Foolish, ignorant, unaware,
For she lets one handle her,
Channel her energy,
Royalty resides in her every fabric,
And thunders in her nails,
Eyes of perversion rarely see,
The perils that invade her,
On days that aren’t kind to her,
As she fights silently with the criminals,
Other than those which frequent her,
But still each day brings sunshine,
The fortunate ones to know her,
For she keeps secret in her heart,
The world couldn’t bear to know,
They say to know a woman is to know the universe,
How true it seems,
Proliferation starts from her womb,
And ends in her navel,
I seek the company of women,
To be a part of their ascent to clouds,
The endless flight in speed of light,
As they guide me through the galaxies unseen…….

Reality….

The birds chirp and announce the start of the day,
As you slowly open the drapes,
And rays of Sun turn you golden,
Magical, splendid, like a work of art,
Exquisite only for me,
The wind plays with your hair,
Gently, not to disturb the sheer randomness that they are in,
My eyes absorbing this very moment,
Standing by the window sill, you look to infinity,
Maybe a thought that crossed your mind,
And you bite your lips,
A nerve here turned numb,
My eyes focus on you,
Those lips that speaks volumes,
Soft, like a feather,
That sometimes caresses my hardwood floors,
Brings them floods and warmth,
Of something celestial, godly, natural,
I hold on to this moment, this sensation,
My words a travesty to what you create,
Everyday as you kiss me morning,
And call my name,
I smile as reality seems mesmerising,
As reality is you…..

Hold on…..

As I lay down in my bed,
My head spinning faster than the clock,
The ceiling mocks me, Jibes at me,
Dust falling on my forehead,
The posters hung on my wall,
And pictures of places I’ve been to,
People that stayed,
And those moved on,
Sigh for they know what helplessness does to you,
How attachment breeds forests that catch fire,
On the slightest getaway,
It too flutters some words through cracks on itself,
Stories that remind me of earthquakes brutal,
When rain came inside my room,
And the bed turned to a trench,
Like a sinking pothole without a bottom,
Layers of humus covering my head,
Mushrooms on my skin,
The walls sometimes cave down on me,
As anxiety kicks in,
Or maybe something stranger to me,
The person in the mirror a stranger to me,
I detest this stranger,
Sometimes want to embrace him,
Let him cry on my shoulder,
As I listen, nod sometimes, maybe give a cup of tea,
For something to hold on to,
As night engulfs the room,
And dogs howl at night,
The mind numbs, wants to sleep,
I try to close my eyes,
The spinning stops somedays,
And the throat of the ceiling dries away,
My bed becomes hard like the forest floor,
The skin grows roots,
And I hold on,
For the Sun is few hours away…..

Being

If words cannot,
Silences will guide me,
If eyes cannot,
Memories will guide me,
As my being dissolves into yours,
And we become whole,
You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours…..

Neon Signs….

Neon signs and shady lanes,
Money exchanging hands,
Through bodies of remorse,
Empty stomachs, pale eyes,
The Mistress of inebriety,
Dancing to the tunes of helplessness,
Addiction, hopes or desire of clear skies,
Its the streets like these that breeds the sewage,
The opulent sometimes like to think so,
As the rotting sight of flesh and skin disgusts them,
For they have hearts of glass,
That break on sights of the Sun rising over Mars,
And their veins burst with blood green,
The days are merciful to these streets,
As light brings them hope,
Shuns away despair and the gobbling eyes,
For no one wants to be recognised in places such as these,
Love springs as the neon signs turn off,
And the routine, the one accepted starts,
Driver, receptionist or a student struggling to study,
Their sky is often red,
Chewed, mulched and spewn on streets like these,
They breathe the same air,
Sometimes eat the food as ours,
Blue collar or a collar white,
Their money is often tainted,
Or it appears so,
The night as it comes again to these streets,
Dressed in make-up bad,
Clothes cheap,
They venture to the streets,
As the neon signs light their way,
And sobriety shies away…..