A Bouquet Of Dreams

It is a beautiful dawn,

Kurinji  blooms bright blue,

Like it did,

That fateful day.

The view from window is hazy,,

But the memories vivid.


Of our house,

Atop a hill,

Amidst the cloudy dandelions,

And  the stooping laburnum,

Laden with golden blooms;

The cascading roses,

Shades of Red,

Ominous of  the sanguinary night,

Where she lay,

A withered flower,

My withered flower.


A Sunny Story

The sun and I have a tale to tell,
He wakes me up with a kiss on the cheek,
Prying my eyes open with his glorious shine,
He twirls the blinds,
And the shadows trickle and tickle,
Blissful mornings,
A romantic honeymoon.

Day Progressed, Life did too.
Warmth turned into scorch;
Parched throats and grimy faces,
Burnt skin and spinning heads,
Helpless, I, Longed for a shade.

As dusk approached,
The heat subsided;
Not to be rekindled,
To the all consuming heat,
Of passionate nights;

But to be doused,
Like singed coal,
With the gut wrenching smell,
Of unquenched dreams.

The sky changed colours,
A mirror of my eyes,
Scarlet crimson vermilion black.

Long shadows,
a prelude to
the impending nights.
As the sun set in my life.

The sun and I,
Have a tale to tell.

The Confluence

A mighty river,
a flowing handsome
And a coy rivulet, smitten by him,
Have a story to tell, so lo and behold.

She raced to touch him,
To slide over his highs and lows,
She danced on alluvial banks with joy,
As she neared him;
Foaming, rippling over the pebbles,

And the time came,
The river ever so stoic,
And she, her eccentric heart beats,
the waves touched the sky;
And the thoughts overflowed,
filled in the dark crevices on the land;

And in a confluence,
When the waters were one,
Her warmth simmered his cool waters,
And her gait, gave an impetus,
To his monotony.

But fate had something else in plan,
In a trifle, a tumult,
They diverged,
She tried hard to hold on,
Clasped his hands tight,
But suddenly felt something amiss,
His grip wasn’t firm,
And as the warmth rose in her,
She realised that it was always her who wanted this.

So she let go, slowly,
And the waters parted,
So did their ways;
She didn’t weep, she was strong,
And sometimes, letting go is strength.

Of Things Left Unsaid

As we sat on the rusty cold bench,

facing the magnificent sea,

I smiled, unable

to control my glee.

When you asked,

the question I dreaded,

What are you thinking, so dreamily?

Why are you smiling, so beautifully?

How do I tell you,

that the smile is a facade,

curtaining the things I wanna say,

the things I wanna do,

At the dark of night,

At the break of light,

to hold your hands,

deluged in the first rain,

submerging in the throes of passion,

collapsing into your arms.

How do I tell you,

that I want to surf the beaches,

gawk at the Louvre,

walk by the coral sea,

sipping some hot tea.

Instead, I say,

It’s nothing, just a beautiful dream.

The Dance Of The Waves

I lay on the sandy beach,
Toes gliding over the sun kissed sand,
Like a lover’s cafune,
The aftermath of a crimson sunset,
Exuding warmth and hue.

My fingers brushed my wavy hair,
As two waves rose in the oblivion,
Leapt up forward,
Like estranged lovers,
After a bout of separation,
Elated, they hugged, they danced,
They rolled about, rising into crests,
Hands entwined, swirling about,
Like the wands of a wizard;
Hands of a director.

Symphony died down,
A fleeting moment of silence,
As I closed my eyes,
Only to be engulfed,
Into the blue.


The Ironic Independent India

\Wrote a post for an Office Program , thought I’d share it with you guys.

A land of ironies and differences,
With gigantic Himalayas,
And beautiful backwaters.
With dusky deserts,
And iconic islands.
The country where Antilia and Dharavi coexist,
Where GDP is ever increasing,
But HDI is down the lane.
The land where they worship women,
But kill them in the wombs,
The land they are Leeched , Groped and Raped,
But also the land where thousands marched with a candle.
A land where Christians celebrate Diwali too,
And Hindus hug on Eid,
A land where Momos are relished,
But the North Easterners are type cast.
A land where rich and poor are nurtured alike,
And every one lives in harmony,
Irrespective of their faith,
Caste or Bank Balance.
Let us take an oath,
To be better citizens, nay, children
To our Motherland,
Wishing her a Happy Independence Day.