Starting things off!

Hey!Thanks for dropping by,this is where I start.


I heard it somewhere,a while ago that “writing is the painting of the voice”.So here i am giving my mind a free run to where ever it wishes to wander.Will not say”i always had a passion to write or something like deep inside i knew i will start to write”,will rather say this was one of the few things on my “will never do these list”,had an aversion to the language i am currently writing in and penning down something as simple as a”something simple”  seemed quite a formidable task,not because i was not able to but because i thought “i will not be able to”.In order to shape things up i decided to read a bit.Mind blown i was by the way with which the writers were able to express their thoughts,from something as serene as a sunrise to something as horrifying as being an eye-witness to a murder scene.Now this was something that immediately set the bells in my mind ringing,getting to a point”this is something i want”.So,from being in my “will never do these list”,it hopped straight into “have to do these list”.But wanting to do and getting things done are to my understanding poles apart.Having a few attempts at writing a diary did not fare that well,so i was back to ground zero again with “will not be able to do” jumping around somewhere in the back of my head,unable to sense the source of inspiration i had around me,a friend of mine.So i went through her blog,each and every post 4-5 times which had me brimming up with thoughts,it was an eye opener for me as in how things were conveyed with such ease,no rocket science.Thanks to her,eventually leading me to my laptop screen where i am currently trying to start things off,cheers!!


Sometimes I feel this is not real,
all of this a grisly nightmare.
I wake up in a haste,
with sweat all over my face,
only to realize that my nightmare was just a recap,
with the next episode about to start anytime soon.
My mind, now, is a constant battlefield, which seems like an eternal one.
The kid, inside me, the only hope I have, with time not on his side,
could leave me within a tick of the clock now,
Unarmed in the battlefield, he went, only there to stop the combat.
The first few bullets missing the mark but injecting fear in my innocent side,
Loud he cried, begged for mercy,
for he’s not here to wage war but only spread love and peace.
With no heed paid, a dagger came flying by,
piercing his embryonic body,
leaving a part of me, saying goodbye.

Now all that is left is not at peace with me,
the soul and the body with weakened ties, they seek a divorce from one another,
the kid, now dead, was the only reason not to why.
The soul is mourning the kid’s death,
the rational side, joyous and proud,
for he, now is the commander in chief of the labyrinth of nerve fibers strangled inside.

In the midst of this confusion, I stand seeking answers, Why?
Somewhere from the heavens, the kid mumbles with a grieving tone,
“Because you didn’t let me try”.



What is the cost?


What is the cost?

For the sacrifices we make,

for every penny we save,

and for the dream we chase.

For all the loved ones we left,

for the hearts, we did break.

For every night that you miss them,

for each one,

they do reminisce about the days.

You do it because you know,

it’s easier to leave,

than to be left,

to be tough and go,

to leave before they know.

Little do you know,

a day will come when you’ll have to conjure up the strength,

to go through the pain,

and see them again.


Find yourself.

It’s not poetry this time around, something different.Much more simpler, find it out for yourself and FIND YOURSELF.

Back in time when there was no internet, no power for a “power cut”, and when “man” wasn’t as dominant a living species, life would have been so easy.Roam around free without any barriers of movement.Pluck something off a tree, light the fire, eat, then lay bare chested under the sky without any roof to obstruct the star lit party the sky had to offer.Much like we today say PLUCK, EAT, SLEEP, REPEAT.

Psst!Back now to where ever you are reading this, stop imagining yourself being at peace under a silent, night sky.So, fast forward to the 21st Century, “SOMETHING THAT WE DO”, REPEAT. Even after the great evolution of the human mind, and all the technological advances that mankind has seen and lived in, we are incapable of defining the “SOMETHING” that we might want to repeat.It is not so simple these days finding something, that leads to the, “AH! This is what I want to do” moment-Yes, it is hard getting hit by reality.It is rather tougher to find what you want to do rather than actually doing the damn thing.DAMN! where are you “MY THING”? let me be yours.

Why is it so tough to get to know the “you”, who was designed and sent to the planet to carry out the task which each one of us unknowingly knows.With a plethora of options available at our disposal, it is a Herculean task for most of us, finding what we would love to do.Everything seems so good to the eye, look around yourself, even the screen, you are currently leaned into(hopefully :P).It has thousands of aspects, one of which might be “YOUR THING”.The irony being, it is somewhere inside your mind, secured, dozed off, yet, you being the owner of the place are looking for a key to get in.

Back to where we were.The outcome of possibly everything is “beautiful”, but only if you are able to go that far.So, what do we do? Pick up something that seems interesting, something that seems like your thing.What happens next?It turns out to be not “the one”.Then with some reduced hope and weakened efforts your turn out the next one, sadly it didn’t work out this time too.

Now you are starting to get furious, agonized by the way things are working out, life seems to be hard on YOU, everyone else’s life seems so smooth, so simple, much like everyone has found a gold treasure and you are the poorest guy on the entire planet.Now, by conjuring up some strength you find something you could try, hoping this could be the one.Even thinking about trying it seems intimidating.You are overwhelmed with the fear of failure.Period.At this point of time, you only hope of “this being the one”, rather than putting in enough, in actually finding it out.The enthusiasm with which you began your quest is nowhere to be seen and now everything you see seems to be “NOT FOR YOU”.But wait, what if this was to be “the final stop” and you just passed by it thinking and believing, it is not.Only because the other fuel stations were out of fuel, you kept on rolling your bike without even checking it out.Yes, it is exactly as absurd as it sounds.

There is no shame in failing at something, after all, it wasn’t meant for you.You are here to find out a certain treasure, there is nothing at stake, nothing for you to lose.If you find it, consider yourself lucky, If not, remember it’s governed by the underlying principles of probability and the will to be “uncomfortable” and being that way.


Hopefully, you do 🙂



A Storm is coming

Make sure you survive this one.

As I look outside the window,

I peek into my world inside,

which can be a green spring leaf,

or a dry winter withered one,

eyeing the spring, as it craves for relief.

The thoughts that articulate,

are like the air you feel,

not see, but touch,

you can leave or clutch.

The air moves around,

with a whispering sound,

“Let the leaves feel my touch, my caressing hand,

OR I shall summon my forces, and be the tornado,

that destroys your roots,

before you know much”.


Diving in

As I dive into my oceanic mind, I surf on its water to live the deceased dream.

As I dive deep into slumber,

I sense light in the dark,

more hope in these hours,

dynamism in the static,

active in my standstill.

Joy is unparalleled in the virtually lifeless,

as I take my mind through the utopic hours,

which are nothing, but,

a false pretence,

of a life condensed,

in a lifeless time,

where I look into my mind,

the story of my life,

which lay dead and buried,

but full of life.


The Mystical Union

Most of the time I was living and hiding under false pretence.

Delving deeper in the mystical union that never was,

the spiritual ties, which severed before tied.

The perfect moon which I thought you were,

it’s imperfections which I didn’t care to buy.

The light you emanated, I thought was bright,

blinded I was, as I studied you day and night.

Words, did I lack to describe what the blind used to see,

a mere poem you are now,

whose poet I don’t wanna be.


It will save you.

There’s still time before it all blacks out.


You can’t touch it, nor can you feel.

It’s there to be felt,

but you are too weak.

You can allow it to fill you,

but too strong you are.

Your longing is weak,

for your miseries are too deep.

You cry is loud,

but no one can hear you shout.

Hard as powder is,

careful as a rat for cheese,

you fall into the trap of,

the pleasantly evil the big world us.

Love is your last hope,

your only way out, allow it to tell you,

there’s still time before,

before it all blacks out.




A mercenary you are, when you are assigned, rather designated to be brutal, ruthless.To kill and finish once and for all.So, was she, she became one.A mercenary.

Never in doubt of the doubts over her,

no faith and confidence in herself,

she became a mercenary in her own kingdom,

the kingdom that dismantled,

long before the enemies even attacked.