Friday, 29 August 2014

"Your writings are so lively. They just talk. They tell so many stories. Which one is yours?" Sameer was so curious to know.
"They are all mine" 
"No I mean which one is your story, your own?" he asked again.
"Every poem is my story, Each line is my story." I said.
The biggest challenge I've seen every guy going through is to convince girls that he is not 'that kind of guy'. 

Tuesday, 26 August 2014


She is not how you see her, hell no! She is totally not what you all think of her. She just exchanged a smile with the guy and you reckon it's a big deal? Just because she had a bad experience with one guy, doesn't stop her life. Did it stop yours? She never forgot how to love or trust, and when you ask her why hasn't she learnt that having expectations hurt and trusting someone is worse. She'd say "I like people, I love to love, I believe there's some part of everyone that deserves to be trusted atleast for once." How could someone think so simple and logical and happily sound stupid to us?  Now that she is putting her trust in this guy, you call her hopeless. Alright, she puts her heart and love untimely, but she doesn't trust anyone enough to not ever break it. If she can take and accept the pain of someone who broke her heart forever, she can take anything you break of her. I have known her since she was young and silly, she is still young and silly, and she might be just old and silly tomorrow. But she won't ever choose to grow sensible enough to never love. She trusted one person after another, not because she couldn't go by herself, neither it's her way to hurt herself, it's just her way to discover herself, and learn about people, about you and me and most of all about love.

Monday, 18 August 2014

The Promise

Counting on
the miles between our ends,
the unapproachable time
and the cities that set us apart.
I discover contentment
against the mutuality
of our language,
our loyalty
and our love.
Her denial to deny,

acceptance instead, of
my pique, displeasure
annoyance and all that
I even fail to name,
odds-on why we still are
the way we are, with 
the forever promise,
we vowed
on my first school day.
And she, same with

her heart, that grew
no wiser in past fifteen years,
holding my hand, 
with no intention to leave
restoring my faith in love,
infecting me with greatness.

Monday, 11 August 2014

The inside: It follows you

Isn't it just too hard
running away from
the memory generating
places, to shifting to
new whereabouts.
From the bygone
companionship, to
liking forsaken happiness.
From the good old, now
changed times, to
finding new tomorrows.
From all the love
melodies and playlists, to
nothing and emptiness.
And when you're there,
you find your core
loaded with
the innumerable memories
of people you left behind,
the ten digits you deleted
everywhere but your mind.
the echoing songs, you're
now afraid to listen to.
and the same old
hopeless you.
Isn't it just too
impossible to run away
from yourself?

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

An old friend

The day ends and he asks
'Didn't you write anything today? '
To me, that's not an inquiry
No merely a question
Not even a formality
One does to keep a friend
And I think back
Why haven't I written about this yet
About this man 
Who doesn't only read my write, 
Admires it, 
Compliments me, 
Not all the times everyone does.
Appreciates me the most, 
Not when I don't deserve.
Enjoys my oddness in public, 
Not when I try faking it
Listens to my long stupid stories, 
Who is obsessed with me, 
Only when I make him feel proud.
Who reminds me who I am
Every time I forget.
Why haven't I yet talked about this to my pen
That there's someone
who was there when nobody was, 
who will be there even when
I won't be there for myself, 
He knows the inside of me, 
He cares enough to scold me
When I set the bar of my life lower.
He is eternal,

He is an old friend.

Friday, 1 August 2014

The closest distant friend (Yes, you brother)

Just as, I sit with mom
prattling about
how we finally, solely
have the hall to us.
No more reeky socks
or slothfulness he spreads,
or Ten Sports' commentary.
We sit there,
sucking the happiness
out of the walls, that 
talk of him,
about him, so loud.
The calendar there, that
has 12 different pictures
of same us,
smartly lies of togetherness
the whole year.
And secretly,
the floor, the windows,
the TV remote, ache 
to feel his presence.
especially the wall clock,
t'was put outside the room,
every night, for it's ticks 
every second muddled
our boy's creative mind.
We laugh it out,
I hide my heart in my pocket
as we talk about 
his November flight to us.
'cause I fail to name the emotion
that brings me infinte zeal
and happiness, followed by
a longer goodbye.