Wednesday, March 27, 2019

The Funeral March

The Funeral March played on...
I walked silently with the crowd.
It was a bright sunny day.
The winter wind battled with the pristine shroud.

The aisle was long.
The way to the altar was longer still.
Twice I was to be given away.
Twice had I been turned away further still.

They marched through the meadows...
They marched through the hills...
They marched through the shadows...
They marched through barren lands and streams.

The funeral march played on...
I walked silently with the crowd.

There were flowers and they burned incense...
The stank of death and sorrow filled the air.
I was stale and I had wilted...
The wind blew through my unkempt hair.

Was it me they were mourning or was I mourning my dreams?
The crowd was filled with faces that I had never seen.
Their touch was cold... or maybe it just wasn’t as warm as I had been.
Was this the loss of me or was this my loss... I was lost, I could not feel.

Was it me they were mourning or was I mourning my dreams?

The funeral march played on...
I walked silently with the crowd.

— written on a winter afternoon with an overcast sky

Monday, February 5, 2018

Warmth and high

Plastic cups lay strewn around. Drinks spilt on the progressively fading carpet had started to dry up on their own. The stink of ashes on the make-shift trays made the air stale. Left over pizza lay unattended on the coffee table in the living room. There was silence all around as the fairy lights blinking their way into dawn.

She sat curled up on her balcony...her blanket tightly wrapped around her.
The city, from her 10th floor apartment, looked so beautiful as it came alive.
The cool breeze made her shiver ever so slightly.
It felt cold...inside and out.
As the high of the previous night gradually left her...she knew that warmth would perhaps never be hers. She tightened the grip on her blanket, her sole companion.

Friday, August 4, 2017


To be able to reach out. To want to know.
Somewhere lost in the crowd.
Alone and scared.
Looking for a way to make it seem worth the while.
Lacking in conviction...yet pushing ahead.

I blame the heads bobbing up and down in the crowded station.
I blame the trains that are never on time.
I blame the alarm clock for not ringing loud enough.
I blame the system.
At the end of the day, I take the fall.

Like clockwork I move. We move.
Each movement accurate. The data sheet smiles.
My name, my identity, my's been compromised.
I know my fate. Stations. Heads. Trains. Clocks.
Mornings will be the same.
Nights will be the same.
Afternoons will be the same.
I will break apart and be put together all the same.

Hammer the clock. Jump the line. Let the alarm ring louder than ever.
Run off.

Peace eludes still.
We are used to our clockwork moves.
We are prisoners within.

Friday, June 30, 2017

Who we are

Everything that we are not and everything that we shall ever be...all of it...the entire story is written by the people we meet.

However much we may believe that we create our own has to be acknowledged that a lot of who we are is courtesy the people we have met.

Some of us have siblings. We grow up with them. Sharing, laughing, fighting and loving each other. Some of us grow up alone. The alone kids have a whole universe within themselves.

I remember my life defining moment. It was when my roommate at college told me that she had got two coffee for herself and one for whoever her roommate was going to be.
And yes, it's been 10 years since then...we are still sharing, laughing, fighting and loving each other!

The people we date...and the reason we break up with them... These, kind of, change the person that we were before we met them or broke up with them. Some good and some bad...their influences, their choices, their likes and dislikes...they leave an imprint on us.

The colleagues we make and the work we do...they help us understand what we can never be good at. That in turn helps us figure out who we actually are.

We have values and ideals of our own. The foundation, perhaps, remains same but our values and principles evolve over time. We realise how we really want our life to be and that's what moulds our way of life.

Life is ever changing. We may long of things we have lost but somehow nothing is ever lost. The people you have met and lost have left an imprint on you. We carry all the interactions and relationships inside experiences. They help us grow.

We may be the architect of our own fortune but it's mostly our choices to be with the people we want to be with that defines the way our life turns out to be.

Pretty fascinating...I feel!

Thursday, June 29, 2017

That which was not to be found

She was looking for that which was not to be found.
Every place she went, she carried questions around.
She weaved dreams out of magic...sheer art.
And slowly again, she would pull them apart.

The world was a colourful void to her.
She filled it with love and joy and fear.
Her thoughts ran in incoherent trains.
Messy like puddles of water in torrential rains.

Normadic was her soul.
In her hands, the reigns of Life.
Glorious in all her beauty...
In ebbs and flows, she escaped time.

She was easy to love...
But hard to hold.
She slipped by like the sands in the hourglass.
Yet in an embrace, she made you whole.

She was Contradictions given life...
A world of hues and stains alike.

Searching forever for her home in the wood...
She was our mysterious Little Red Riding Hood.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Carpe Diem?!

So what do you do when you want to break free and do something new that takes your mind off your troubles and pain...something that manages to set you off along the right path again?

Different people have different coping mechanisms.

Women are known to get a make-over... hair, nails and all of it. A new wardrobe definitely helps them to win the war against all odds.

I generally seek refuge in music and books. Mostly, I just write. That's how this blog came into existence.

I used to a very timid child. Introvert in the very sense of the word. I was a good girl, who obeyed all rules and was filled with shame and guilt when, even by the slightest mistake, some of those rules were broken. I was quiet. I had trouble opening up to people. I didn't want anyone to know me lest they judge me for who I am.

That was eons ago. I do not care about such things anymore. Life has changed me. I am no longer that self conscious shy child. I am no longer an introvert. I talk now. I don't just talk, I express my opinion and views. I am confident and sure of what I am doing. I am, in ways, fearless.

No matter how sturdy an armour we put on, there are moments when we get weak. There are moments when we long for the things we can never get...dreams that we know will never see the light of the day...longings...wishful ones.
I believe, I am the only one responsible for my happiness. I believe, that I am the only one responsible for everything that happens in my life. It makes me feel stronger sharper and definitely not taller (Horlics reference for those who can connect the dots)!
There are things I long for...and I know that reality is far from those things.

I write. When I feel sad about all the things that I am missing out on, I write. Right now I am under this huge #FOMO phase. Hence, this post.

This has been a year of changes...and the way things are going next year will be even more dynamic.
To be honest, I like dynamic. I prefer a hectic life compared to a peaceful one. It leaves me with less time to get into the wishful longings phase.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should stop running. Maybe I pick a hectic life because I am running away from the things that make me sad. Is it just FOMO or am I being an escapist?

Carpe diem... shall I never be able to seize the day?

Thursday, July 21, 2016

The Promiscuous Lady

And that promiscuous Lady...
The one who just walked by.

Her red bag and heels...
The smoke swirling around her lips...
Her perfume, she left it lingering still
Her presence, with it she seemed to fill.
The hair, disarrayed...but that's style
Her smile, a killer, coy, sly.

You may want to touch her,
Intangible, yes, her mystery was.
You may want to know how her thoughts flow,
Like a whirlwind, how they come and go.
You may want to untangle the knots in her hair,
Her aura lay there, her story, to be quite fair.

The tactfully smudged kohl,
And all the colours of Her...
Enticing, intriguing...
A glimpse, perhaps, into her deep soul.
Her face, her painted nails, her hair...
She is my mountain Gypsy girl, my lady fair.

Coarse not soft, her hands were...
An impulse, a recoil, and moments passed
Till Breath returned to me.
My heart beat a thousand beats till she finally set me free.

Her smell lingered, she was long gone.
Her coy smile, she left behind.
She is the promiscuous Lady.
The one who just walked by.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

The Journey of Loss

He said..."it's all over."
She cried all night. She checked her phone every few minutes. She almost dialled his number a couple of times. She spent her nights in sleepless dreams. Her mornings were lost in dreary wakefulness. Every breath she took reminded her of him. Everything around her had his touch. She felt lost...alone in her pain.
Months later...she saw him in the lift at her workplace. She barely glanced at him. Her world had moved on.

"It's all over"...her son told her over the phone. The words did not register at first and when it did, her world crashed around her.
Years and years of memories...every single moment of the last 52 years.
Questions flooded her heart and mind...
How could he not be here anymore. How is it possible that I will never be able to touch him again. Who will I talk to at night when the world had drowned in sleep. Who will I wake up for in the mornings...who will share my cup of tea.

The habits and nuances of the years gone by...every word ever spoken...the dreams they had seen together...their smiles and joys... everything that was theirs was now left with her. He was gone...she would never see him again.

Her children sat with their arms around her...her grand kids sat nearby. He was there among them all...yet his journey has changed direction... he was in peace now.
And her life would never be the same again.

~ The Journey of Loss

In the memory of lost loved ones.

Saturday, April 23, 2016


And so much we could have done,
And so much I did,
The before and after was washed away with the morning tide,
When I faced the Sun and braced the light,
The salt drops on the floor,
The smudges here and there...
Of multitudes forgone, lay the ceiling bare...

Truth beckoned the strength within,
The desire to do more than just begin,
When the days of light cease to live,
All we do is, believe.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

The Snow Fall

She let the snow bury her that night. She let the cold steal away her light. For her eyes knew this was where she wanted to be and her heart knew this was how it was always meant to be. The snow fell on her that night.

The night sky was filled with the howl of the dog who stood by her as she fell with the snow.
He knew her well and loved her so.

Her hut was a little ahead in the woods...or what once used to be. The winter had claimed the trees for its own and the narrow path had ceased to be.

It was early winter, when she came. She came in silent grey. Never a word did she ever speak not did her heart ever sway.
She would sit by the cliff. Never a fire would she light. Like she wanted the night to give her a fight.

He first saw her on his way towards the frozen woods. Her melancholy eyes was all it took. For he could see into her soul. Their eyes met and they felt whole.
His blue her grey...they were meant to be. From a land afar she had come to see.

In silence she told him of her long years. How much she had loved and how much had been hers. He listened. Sat down with his front paws folded and alert. His ears taking in every single of her word.

He knew her Life was far away. In a place that was not theirs in any way. She had longed for so much...a mere human touch.
She had waited and waited for years to come. To her fears she knew she would never succumb.
He knew not why she was here to stay. He stayed by her through night and day.

It had been a beautiful night...but it will haunt him till the end.
That night when the snow fell...he saw her  leave, just the way she was sent. Silent and grey.

Saturday, January 9, 2016


Oh the vivid colours that adorn thee, Life.
The myriad shades of joy and gloom...
Of the shades and the brightness of the open skies and clouds...
The multitudes in grey that in the minds bloom.

Of lustrous green pastures and happiness galore.
Of the blue grey green seas and the waves that had drowned us times before.
Of all the red pink purples that colour the sky and the heart.
Should have known of all your hues from the start.

Of tears ... Some of mirth.
Of smiles... At times in grief.
Of those eyes that smile inspite of the storm inside.
Of shattered fame and broken pride.
Of the rain drops that wrench out memories from the soul.
Of the sunset that sets longing out...
Makes us seek within ourselves till we feel whole.

Of all the colours that are all black grey and white...
There are these in-between ones that may be or may not be bright.

With each year...a new hue appears
And each hue splits in further shades.
Daggers and saws
Knifes and blades.

Oh Life, thou art beautiful.
Your colours fill me with wonderous joy.
Oh Life, thou art colourful.
Let's sail the ship... Sailors, Ahoy!

The Funeral March

The Funeral March played on... I walked silently with the crowd. It was a bright sunny day. The winter wind battled with the pristine sh...