A lost life..

Its rightly said that you don’t know what you have until its gone. There's a quote by Chuck Palahniuk which seems extremely ironic, “If people thought you were dying, they would give you their full attention.”

I wish we would pay more attention to our near and dear ones while they're still around :)


This one is for a friend who had committed suicide a few years back. I still miss her terribly.




One day under the firmament fiery, she wove a coloured dream
A wish she blew, all pure and true, she wanted it to mean.
With every day that came and went, her undeterred patience grew
The sole dream her eyes had dreamt, would come to her, she knew.

When rain poured down in huge rounded drops, she wept not a tear
Her faith in her dream- unmoved and still fresh, was imporous to fear.
Autumn gave way to the iciest winter ever, amidst the chill a dream began to burn
A shivering day dawned on a last breath, a loved one taken to a place of no return.

Summer marched in with its external glory replete, happily oblivious to the cruel cold
She was content wearing the envelope of silence, deaf to the proclaimed truths told.
Within her she witnessed her dream collapse, it fell down a precipice steep
She withdrew from hope with a resignation fatal, the hurt had been far too deep.

At the very edge of the cliff she stood, the salty coastal air she smelt.
The tumultuous blue sea raged down below, echoing the upheavals she felt.
She thought back to the day she dreamt, when hopes she would knit.
She thought of too, the resounding collapse and the agony that had hit.

She cared no more for her sole comrade, the solitude that had always been hers
Ended had she her store of endurance, her pains she longed to immerse.
A frenzy guided each step she took, led her to where she wanted to be
With a last sigh of relief and withdrawal, she jumped into the sea...

The Unsung Song..

I don't expect too many likes or comments for this poem. It is one of my unconventional poems which is playing around with words and the theme.



A song stays undone,
With no tune, it stood unsung.
A forgotten echo, reverberates from afar,
But nay shall I tune it, let it stay unsung.

The tune did hum; a memory quivered on my lips,
A distant tinnitus; sung with your voice afresh,
Our heads then moved in a sprightly trance,
We crooned a duet of our ballad undone.

Under the gulmohar tree, saffron clothed in spring,
Lying on your lap, writing our lines; nay not prim,
Tuned I the last line, in moods that ebbed from your heart,
Of this undone poem, ever after unsung song.

Sung with voices, in dissonance it came,
Tears frosted; a hazy mist on glass.
Discord creeping, rusted the wet violins strings,
Made the song unsung, and all undone.

In solitude, as I sung those lines in brooding pain,
I found the lines to our poem undone.
But I just left it, fading written with an inkless pen,
Etched; painful acrid vinegar’s sting, for we now not one,
And it froze as a poem undone, with a tune unsung.

I will never bid you goodbye...

I had written this poem a few years back but somehow everytime I read this poem, it just seems to hit me even harder and as even more friends seem to drift away from my life, this poem seemed extremely relevant at present.



Sometimes I don’t know why,
I feel I have lost
A bit too much in my way of life.
Like scattered pebbles,
Moments passed haunt back,
Memories never die.
And when I reminisce a beloved’s journey
Away from my life,
I wish I could speak better than just that goodbye…

It’s not easy to bond…
It’s harder to untie,
Those chords sweetly wound over
Abysses of time.
Which might be just a season as per the sand clocks time
But in life it’s a reason enough to
Recall and try.
To live in the old glory of bygone ties,
Away as they drift- my pals,
I wish I could say better than just goodbyes…

To live and see others go,
It’s a common sight,
But to live without the hope
That they might retrace their paths back,
Is what makes you cry …
And still as the loves of my life drift away,
I can't but silently watch all the way.
And wait for a miracle to defy the order of time;
And wish I met them all once again, at least before I die…
And yet I fall short of words,
I wish I could have the strength to undo the ‘goodbyes’.

Every time you see a friend move away,
Hold her hand and ask her to stay…
Strike when the time is ripe;
So that you needn’t sit and reminisce
And ponder over what she would have told-
Could she have gone away?
Had you not said the ‘goodbye’?
I wish I could be braver
To hold back people in my life,
I wish I had the guts to say-
“ I will never bid you goodbye."

Marital Rape

I had written this poem some years back to highlight an issue, which however much denied and suppressed, sadly exists in our society. The style I've used for the poem is slightly crude and raw; but that has been intentionally done to bring home the bitter truth in a more hard-hitting manner.



Like a caged animal,
she crouches in the nook;
trembling with fear,
to see that lust filled look.

No strength to fight,
no power to protect;
life’s become a nightmare,
filled with misery and abject.

He comes close and
touches her skin;
and the frightening episode
again begins.

She cringes and cowers,
she begs and pleads;
but to her cry he doesn’t
give a heed.

I married you, and I can do with you
as and when I please;
my wishes you will fulfil
and my whims you shall appease.

And another educated woman gives in
for she is too scared to escape;
and another educated man,
continues the marital rape.

A Soldier's Funeral-Nonnet

A nonnet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line
seven syllables, etc... until line nine that finishes with one syllable. It goes like this:
line 1 - 9 syllables
line 2 - 8 syllables
line 3 - 7 syllables
line 4 - 6 syllables
line 5 - 5 syllables
line 6 - 4 syllables
line 7 - 3 syllables
line 8 - 2 syllables
line 9 - 1 syllable




Oh how good was he that lies in shrouds,
A friend in need, good friend indeed.
Slain brave in war’s rage forefront,
Soldier firm; corpse in flag.
Widow, then two kids,
Unconsoled weeps.
Gun salute,
Echoes,
Sighs.

Freedom was never free...

I had actually written this poem a few years back. I was going through my old diary entries today and came across it which was quite a sweet coincidence considering that tomorrow is Republic Day. So I thought I'll post it :) Btw Happy Republic Day to all fellow Indians :)




A broken heart
Devoid of hope.

Crying eyes,
With no will to cope.

A battered spirit
Forced to move on.

A worn out soul
Shorn of a chimera of a peaceful dawn.

A hand robbed of pen
And given a gun instead.

An artist stripped of colour
And made to play with blood.

A poet deprived of his thoughts
And forced to say what men in power want.

A composer deprived of peaceful melody
And coerced to compose a song of war that haunts.

A child wizened before his time
To fend for his family when his father is at the front.

A wife living a hell everyday
Hiding from the truth that she cannot confront.

Will they ever come back?
Will we see them again?

Will their sacrifice be justified?
Will it help the peace to reign?

As you and I sleep on our beds
Blissfully ignorant of the price someone paid.

For letting us have the freedom,
In the murky waters of politics, to wade.

When will we wake up from this slumber?
When will we realise and when will we see?

That the fabricated liberty that we enjoy
Is a sham, that our freedom was never free…

So tired of trying...

So tired of trying,
Just want to be
A languid afternoon breeze,
A drowsy yawn,
A falling maple leaf,
on a dusky dawn.

So tired of trying
Just want to be
A forgotten lyric
A remembered fawn.
A pug-nosed sheep
With unkempt hair
and braided thoughts.

So tired of trying
Just want to be
An empty soul
An insignificant vowel
An umbrella torn on a rainy day..

So tired of trying
Just want to be
The next buffoon
The static nomad

So tired of trying
Just want to be
Left alone
No questions
No answers
No patience
No will.
So tired..
Dead tired.

Ghostly Christmas...

This poem was written after listening to a Serbian acquaintance of mine. He narrated how his country had problems with war and how dank Christmas would be out there.. So this poem is actually inspired by that..As we enjoy Christmas, we must spare a thought for those who are too grief-stricken to celebrate Christmas and whose lives are so uncertain that they are not sure whether they will still be alive when the day ends.




Memories jingling of church bells,
Scatterings distant, of broken glass,
Lauding harmony of ever gone choral songs,
Ghostly Christmas; visited my war struck town.

Hushed together in cellars stone cold,
Humming carols with a mind forgone,
Counting shots of mad rebels treading south,
Another Christmas, marched in my war torn town.

Crevices revealing ghostly pines afar,
A moment; eyes saw gay spectral lights.
Imaginations silvered flashed; of good times,
Christmas came again to my war stripped town.

Berries iced blue on oak with mistletoe,
Longed to bless kisses of the jubilant young,
Alas! Nay shall this dream come alive again,
Christmas reigned again in this strife land.

Shots reverberating in ears for long,
From distant bonfire of guerilla wars,
Drunken soldiers discarded hymnal songs,
Welcomed Christmas to my war torn land.

Death wrapped in guise of Santa’s gift,
Awaited us all beneath some Christmas pine,
Abandoned our manger Lord ye again,
Yet Christmas celebrates in this land today.

Victim..

My world was dark
yet I was safe
in my mothers womb I lay
I felt her warmth
I lived in her
from the beginning of my day
a foetus I was, not yet a child
yet in my mind I knew
some day I would see the world
I would be a baby new
the world I’d see
and I would grow
slowly into a man…
and later on when time would come
a family I would plan
alas! For me
I felt a chill
when suddenly my parents planned to kill me
they wanted to get rid of me
as children they did not want
"oh no!” I shouted
"I want to live
I want to be a child
I want to see your lovely world
I’ll be meek and mild!"
No one heard my cry of pain
when instruments tore at me
and in my mothers womb I was slain
now I’ll never be a child
nor the world I’ll see........