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Friday, 29 November 2013

Your Literary Eyes

Having read
The fiction in your Eyes
Tricked with rich Imagery.

It seems
I can
With ease –
A captivating
Autobiography of Love
Fraught with
Unloved moments
And Unbearable pain

Oh! The Literature that your Eyes possess.

Wednesday, 27 November 2013

Love is no News

They all pester me with their questions.
How did it happen?
Do you know her?
Is she the one?
And what not…..!!!

In a poetic frustration
I answer:

She created History
When she called
After decades of cold war
On my phone.

I picked up the call.
And it all started.

To cut it short:
It was a conspiracy through radio waves.
A well-planned coup
Against the dictatorship of facades.

First, Breath committed suicide.
Then, the entire technology of the Soul faltered.
I lost the beloved land of my skin.
My senses are still casualties.

So please 
leave me alone.

How did it happen?

It happened because of her one casual sentence:
They all get ready to script it.

“How are you?”

They look at each other in amazement.
And disappointingly say:
This won’t sell  
Let’s go.

Saturday, 23 November 2013

Free Kashmir*

“I can free Kashmir”
She said temptingly.

“But on a condition”: ______

“Love me more than Freedom”

Since then
I am
A Slave
In Love with her.

Wednesday, 20 November 2013


“Death has a vagrant Soul”
I say.

“So has Sadness”
She replies curiously.

We glance
And Smile
At each other’s Sorrow.

The spade of Lips
Plucks our Smiles
and buries them
In the graveyard of Cheeks.

“Death has a vagrant Soul”
I say.

“So has Sadness”

Monday, 11 November 2013

Death Foretold

She thought
Her vein
Was a Ribbon.


She would cut it
And inaugurate
Something quite new
For herself.

A Life full of Colors.

Almost everyone
Advised her against.

One Night
Like an adept Performer
She cut her vein
Like a Ribbon.

The color was later washed away
With colorless water
and some cheap towels.

Friday, 8 November 2013


It’s been raining hard
In my Head
Since you left
Like Monsoon
On the shores of my Neurons.

Since then
My Eyes are my water gates.


My Skull
My Sky
Where dark clouds rain Memories

As wet

As the tip of your Tongue.