I am the passenger

if one is not seduced by it,not fascinated by it,then there is no travel,no journeys,no experiences,no troubles,no heartbreaks and no ecstasy

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being just is being just to all and not just to who is akin

You and me

We have been seeking and hiding from each other
I have been waging against you on the cold frontiers while you have been always inland
I pictured you the ugly devil but never faced the mirror myself
Mistook self depravation for self deprecation
Ended up with self deception
Bringing the lamb to the altar but devouring it myself
From the darkest nooks now deciding to end this jingoism
Why an outside war on terror when can make peace within

roots

they were bare

for everyone to see

it was quite a spectacle

he had not risen 

rather, had his base gaped

gnawed by rodents

of diversion & depravity

 

journeyman

laden with questions,back bent

dragging yourself

to the horizon

which promises answers

allegedly,as the return journeymen claim

that is motley gold

take a look in your “potley”,motley

yes,the one which burdens you

it has all in it

the “potley” that you assume full of questions

have answers woven in them

the grim wrapper

persistent din of ant noise

contrasts the plateau of silence which chadors my courtyard

broken only by the last bus from town

usually indicating to me to wrap things up

to stop wrapping up the dead

call it a day,the bus says,as it hoots past and dies

but not tonight

as it stops at my gates

seems like my wait is finally over….

bygone newspapers

to people,his actions were mendicanting attention

his scribbling,highlighting,cricleing on old newspapers appeared directionless and passing time

but for him the quest for the holy grail was succeeding

focussed and calm,
he scribbled,highlighted and circled

and he never wore of this chore

because as soon as he touched those shabby words they came alive and talked to him

made perfect sense

so he scribbled on

baby dont cry

there was a time i used to weep at lot,also,back then i was happier since i was not a bloated ball of emotion,corked and lided by my straight face,like a desert without a drop of tear

black pepper

i woke up and could see it,lurking not distant but not too close either,it’s perch was precarious and i was not comfortably placed either,our eyes met and i proclaimed it to be my new obsession,almost by destiny…

happy birthday,dear friend…

age is the predictable wear and tear of your body
ageing is the process where you allow the bulb of your mind to be shrouded by layers of trivialities
obscuring your original light,all you see is shadows
their fear is what you live in
and hence you grow into a layery,hairy onion
capable only of giving others tears,while being shredded itself
remove the layers and destroy the shadows !
although age will kill , but ageing will certainly not let you live