How easy we think it is
To wade through life
With a soul that knows yours
Voluntarily blindsiding the truth:
Their power to poison you from the roots


RIP, Dear What could have been

The dreams I saw of us. Oh, the dreams I had of us.

The hours I have spent having a reverie about our beautiful vacations on an Island by the beaches. The house we would own and make it our home. Our most favourite things; the shared meals we would have and the long walks we would take. The dates we would go on and the places we would see. The little ones we would bring in this world and the dog we would name Murphy. The endless passionate love making we would have and the countless nights we would share.

The restless parts of the life would not feel that bad because I would have you. And every trouble that would come our way, we would face them like fighters and become warriors. Of course, we would have fights; the drunken nights and the days we would spend fighting over anything and everything; over something petty or crucial. But all of that would be okay since every night when we would resort to be, we would reconcile with a kiss and a conversation. Or who knows, maybe a morning kiss or a home cooked luncheon.

But, sadly, the world will not witness this. Our relationship did not give my words and dreams to breathe and put them into pictures or reality. The “if’s” and the “I wish’s” will what remain of us, the “would have” will always haunt us.

I have failed you and you have failed me. We have failed each other.

These moments are the end of something beautiful I had in my life, but not anymore.

I hope life gives you good lemons so that you would always enjoy the lemonade. I wish you the best. I hope the time will teach you to be kinder, gentler and more humble.

I hope love does not fail you again.

For the last time,

The Thing with Distance

Things that distance teaches you
Are not how you start to value: a person or a place

It teaches you
The importance of a small conversation

It teaches you
The joy of small things

It teaches you
To value a shared meal

It teaches you
To be kind even when vexed

It teaches you
To smile a little more, to love a lot more

It teaches you
To be human


My weapons are words
Never said
Always written

What do I think?

What do I think, when I think of us
Wrapped in a blanket underneath the stars
I think of a beautiful poetry
Written in love.

What do I think, when I think of us
In the hot summer afternoon under the tree
I think of words being sipped from lips
Reaching the heart

What do I think, when I think of us
On the darkest of nights, with no light and sight.
I think of a symphony
Spreading chills through my spine

What do I think, When I think of us-
You and me.
I think we are the relics
Of a love story left untold.


Mastering the art of not giving a fuck about anything
And there it was running through her mind
That silent moment of acceptance;
All the fuck she gave about everything.


Summer chilly night, the moon half-lit
Witnessing a dilemma that life poses.
Half smoked cigarette at 3 had something to say,
about life, universe and everything.
Sitting there quite by the window
It was everything a respite would consist of
But something went missing
The silent tunes buzzing at the back
Some Bukowski to feed the brain and the heart
A big BUT
Stood there staring in her face
It wasn’t the presence of a shadow or a hint of embrace
It was the subtle absence of peace of mind
That was missing
It was big empty cut, a space
A void
Carved right out in the middle of her chest
The smoke coming out of the empty void
Daunting her of the part that went

Healing is a process

Does love really fade, or hide or die or say bye?
Does it really every leave your system?
How do you stop loving someone?
How do you discard those million memories, scenarios and moments?
Do you just delete the pictures that have dominated your gallery and your mind?
How do you delete their existence from your thinking?
How do you wake up every morning and not think about them?
Or how do you train your heart to not skip a beat when you see them pass by and not take a notice of your presence?
How do you not cry yourself to sleep when the pangs of their memories are torturing you?
How do you stop loving someone who has become your second skin?
How do you?

Gift Wrapped Lie

The idea of love and relationship was wrapped to me in a silver wrapping paper
the instructions read wide and clear, this is going to be your home, your answer to life’s complex questions and of course, something you always lean on.

I accepted this silver wrapped gift from multiple places. Romantic novels, the songs so nicely sung, the lyrics that stuck to my head, the tv shows which I kept binging, even Naruda and Yeats were a participant in this play.

I kept nourishing, building upon the idea over the years. I started looking for traces of this silver wrapped idea in every scenario I would find. My parents, my friends sometimes even myself.

It kept failing again and again, I seemed to not waiver my faith in this because I had seen the end, of how everyone who believed in this idea would find what they had wanted all along. I knew it would be the same for me too. So what if I had not seen what would happen with me, but hope, as you know is a sucker for desperation.

Sometimes when I am at my lowest, no bait for my optimism, I think; I think that maybe this idea is not for me, not for real life people. Maybe Love is not always a giddy feeling, it is not always the answer. Maybe you need saving from relationships, you need to run away from them and not near. Maybe the idea is just too glorified, to be gifted as a show piece you keep in your living room mantle where no one will touch it for a very long time.

Real relationships are nothing like those scenes in the movies or of that of my favourite book. It is difficult to be with someone and make a relationship work.

Weirdly, everyone seems to know about this. Nobody talks about the trouble, no one talks about the hardships. Maybe not everyone has a happy end, maybe not everyone gets the relationship they want. And at the back of your mind, you know, it’s okay to not be in one, maybe living alone isn’t that bad of an idea.

Maybe I am feeling like this because I am in a scenario the love stories don’t talk about, maybe I will not have an ending like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. Maybe I will have something better, like peace of mind and extra space on the bed when I sleep alone. Maybe I will be happy without a relationship.

Maybe I will.


Good Night

Dream sweet, my pretty boy.
Sleep awaits for you to go in a deep slumber
It will show you the world within,
land of love and imaginations,
countless stories waiting to be woven as your dreams.

Muses of a long time lover

How beautiful could you be?
You saw the bent lines and kissed me
With all the love you encompass
Beautiful boy, your eyes talk to me
Like no other poem ever has
Your fingers entwined with mine
I feel your bones, i feel you
I feel your skin
Your touch awakens me
The whiff of your smell; it is a sweet melody of your presence
Your embrace.
I am not afraid of letting my pleasures take over me,
I am terrified by the thought
of losing my soul to you.

Looking for my abode- I

When the words you want to live by,
no longer seem to help
Walk outside,
go under the blue sky
Bask in the vastness
Let it guide you home!

Letter to my old self

Hello dear,

I hope that you find this letter in good health and the merrier of times, because you will not like what is about to follow. I apologize for starting the letter in a rude way. It is not all bad, but it is not what you are hoping either. You might want to make your walk longer today, you are not going to get enough a while later and while we are at it, please read a book or two more because I miss smelling those old pages and taking it all in: the beauty of those long lost words.

You shall wonder what has happened after all and you should, your life depends on it. I had a peaceful day after a very long time. I had the time to sip my coffee alone and in peace, I had the chance to eat my lunch alone and I finally got my hand on The Ulysses. If I had just known how much easier it would be to not think about anyone but myself, I would have done that more If I were you.

Don’t be fooled by Beethoven when we says:

Ever thine. 
Ever mine. 
Ever ours. 

And mind that Voltaire is not going to do any good either when you will be swayed by his words: No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives.

Those great men with love and passion led the bravest of lives and from what I feel, misery never left their side. It is a word of caution my friend, think twice before you close your eyes and lean for a kiss, It will eventually lead you to believe in a happily ever after, but sadly none exists. You will get your heart broken over the pettiest of matters and you will let go of what you know as the love of your life. Love will consume you to the deepest of your soul. It will find you in the wilderness of the night and will sing songs to you. It will whisper in your dreams and make you see things which will forever be your fragment of imagination.

You will, my dear, have moonlit walks and dinner by the lake. You will have your share of warmth in the bed and supper in the coziest arms. But you will not be spared of the long nights spent writhing in pain, agonizing over spilled words. You will have to walk barefeet on the summer afternoon sand to known the pleasure of walking by the beach in the night. You will have to feel the burn to know the tingling feeling of sand sliding your skin.

I think I have given too much away. I do not mean to dishearten you. You will have a good life, but I have warn you of the things that lie ahead. You need to make a choice. Would you do it all over again because I know how much it means to you? Or, would you rather walk away because lonely nights have always scared you.

Be you. I do not know if this is the best of the advice, but this is all I got for you. Come reach me soon, I am waiting with a million other tales.


It was all pretty while the
LA sun was shinning down on us.
You flew back to the Manhattan clouds
And I saw the snow storm
Come down on me while I still
Roamed the Palm beaches.

My Humble Abode

It has four walls but fails for a roof
Some would say that it is a summer night bliss
But I would rather call it a home.
I dwell without belongings.

They encompass my laughter and tears,
Stolen kisses and broken heart conversations
Corners that let me breath in peace.
I dwell without belongings.

Luxuries like scenic sunsets and posh nights
Is not what it provides.
But it gives me a sight,
A sight to see beyond the city
A city of myriad hues and muses.
I dwell without belongings.

It does not have a door
But it opens its arms to everyone
It knows no bound
For the ones who know:
How star studded sky or the bird etched blue pashmina
Can make your day and night!

I dwell without belongings
In my humble abode.

Life & Poetry

Live the poetry,
A drunk writer would want to relish.
Be the words,
That would never leave the lovers lips.

The one who lived for a night

The bed of wings lay spread
on this bountiful earth.
The moon adorned with the cloud pashmina,
Must have delightfully witnessed some pleasure
Of how they tried, tried with all their might
And flew towards the ball of light: their sun
Believing the night was all they had: their lifetime
To catch a ray of that glow.
With glory they descend into the soil
Making sure their wings embark
The ballad of their struggles.

After Effects

The decision is never about the choices.

It is always about what will you do,
When there is no looking back from the road?

Will you be able to live with it?

You will always be bothered,
Will the inner demon be pacified?
Or, will you explode like a cracker?
The pieces of you all over the place
But never Together.


The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor by Gabriel Marquez

Disclaimer: I do not really believe in Book Reviews because every book is a treasure in itself. This post is not meant to be treated as critical review and should be more of a conversation between me and you (Read: The reader reading this post, for which I thank you so much, btw).  Feedback is always welcomed

[The article contains SPOILERS.]

This is a short story by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, though not really short. It is basically a narrative penned down by the great author. A sailor, who was shipwrecked, narrates the story of his life spent on a life raft, without any lifesaving amenities and how being stranded on a mere piece of wood makes him a hero in the end!

The occurrence of the ship falling apart was a result of his worst nightmares coming true, and this was because he was too influenced by a movie made at sea, how it gets violent and engulfs the lives of many.

Being a naval officer for a decent enough time, he has always been in love with the sea; being mobile for almost all of his life spent on the sea, he loved the adventures it brought along. Life is good until he watches this movie with his Spanish girlfriend Mary Address, which manages to scare him beyond wit and also his fellow mates. The movie that they watch is about a ship being wrecked recklessly and ruined in a way that could send shivers down anybody’s spine.

Haunted by this fear, he decides to quit the navy and never to return to the sea, to be with his family. He chooses to live a life of security and stability. The ship “Destroyer” fails exactly two hours before they reach Cartagena, his hometown. He is on duty, positioned on the deck, and all he has with him is his watch, keys and a hope of a safe and a better future.

Luck never fails to surprise one at the time of troubles. He, along with his few other fellow mates, are thrown into the sea by the voraciously tumbling ship as a result of furious winds and waves. He manages to get on a life raft and then tries helping his friends on the raft, but ill-fated, none of them manage to get on the raft and they were swallowed by the wind; the raft tracing its own path.

Later on, the story is about his journey to save his life and how he came back to Cartagena. He had to face varied problems like food, water, shelter and his safety. His reckless life on the raft was also an eye opener to many of his life’s queries. With only one hope – to be saved – he gathered his strength every morning and held the oars and rowed them.

It is a good book with an amazing real life story. This is where the crux of the story resides. This book isn’t about finding out whether he manages to be alive at the end, but it is about the life he had when he was on the raft.

The way he narrates it is one of the best I have come across.

I was totally glued throughout the entire time on my train journey, provided I had nothing to do and also it is just 106 pages. I was just so curious to know how he manages to get back.

Marquez tried his best possible to make the mystery last till the end. Anyways, he had nothing to do with the realism of the story, but it takes a lot of effort to store this into one.

Do read! It is short, but not sweet. It is engaging and interesting.
Check out his other books, he never fails to surprise one!

Maharani by Ruskin Bond

Disclaimer: I do not really believe in Book Reviews because every book is a treasure in itself. This post is not meant to be treated as critical review and should be more of a conversation between me and you (Read: The reader reading this post, for which I thank you so much, btw).  Feedback is always welcomed

Imagine a perfect Sunday evening. You are sitting by the window, cold wind is spreading a chill and you look out of the window, sipping hot coffee, and you feel that something is missing. An intense desire to read an amazing book with such a perfect environment keeps on nudging you. Maharani, a novella by Ruskin Bond is one such book that fits in your Sunday evening treat.

It is nothing extraordinary or astonishing. It is a lucidly written story about the infamous Maharani of Mastipur. Ruskin bond has written this in the first person making himself a part of the book. It gives an insight into the entrancing life of the royal household and the bewitching fate of these princely states.

Set in the serenity of the hills of Dehradun and Mussoorie, Maharani is a very beautifully written book. Ruskin ran into Neena, the Maharani at a school dance in his high school and that is where all of this started. The book covers the life of the notorious maharani and a little sneak-peak into Ruskin’s life. She was married to the King of Mastipur when she was very young. Mother to two kids, she never was a quiet woman and people addressed her as H.H (Her Highness). She loved adventure and parties. She had hobbies similar to the Maharaja, which attracted him so much towards her. Neena was the second wife; his first wife was taken ill and later died owing to her scandalous love affair with the driver. The driver was killed by Maharaja’s soldiers when the affair came into limelight.

We see a very mysterious character play a very important role in the lives of people living in the Mastipur palace – a nun. As per speculation, she was a spy and was given refuge by the king as she was his aunt. After Maharaja’s death, we see her loosening her strings and getting involved in various love affairs with famous men and keep herself drenched in alcohol. She was the epitome of pride, attitude, beauty and confidence. She did not want her life to be lesser than a party. We also see other characters who play quite a role in Ruskin’s and Neena’s life. Maharani falls in love with Ricardo, the diplomat from a Bolivian family that was posted in Dehradun as a part of the foreign embassy. The family is allowed to stay in the mansion while Maharani and Ricardo go about enjoying the affair. Ricardo’s son becomes really good friends with Ruskin and spends time with him watching cinema and playing music. Later, many other lovers appear showcasing the disreputable nature of the Maharani. As the time passes, the beauty fades away, but what remains is the same arrogance and boldness that she possessed. The later part of the story is about how her two sons, whom she disowned and disbarred from her property, try and create trouble for her to get a hold of her property and how she got close to Ruskin and confided in him in the last years of her life. She was old and it did not suit her, she was completely sane yet fears took hold of her which made her lose control.

The way Ruskin Bond narrates the episodes and extracts are so very lively. All you have to do is sit back and let him draw the story. A very simple tale and an amazing read!