As days draw to a close, you pick up an axe and cut off the moments loose

One by one, minutes drop dead, the Sun begins to melt into the horizon

An embrace witnessed by the world, a union everyone looks forward to

Surviving another day, comforting blanket of the night welcomed

Scatter across, hide, withdraw from company, it is a cue

A beautiful reminder that every day shall come to pass, no matter how hard, no matter how happy.


For me

I try and I fail to hold my head high

Ashamed of my misery, I hide from the world, the scars you gave me

The scars are ugly, painful reminders of betrayal for opportunity

To walk away, to set yourself free with my shame and sorrow, colour your canvas bright

Hold the light aloft from my core to colour the sky blue

While I crouch in the dark, clutching my sides

Eyes closed, head bowed, I sing songs of longing

For peace, for me.

An Old Wound

I close my eyes and feel you alive, by my side, holding my hand

Just there, for me to see and sigh in relief

If only you’d known, if only you had realised that this was something more

Darker than the dark, dingy Delhi sky I endured for years

It was more than those fries I used to have, replacing the love by warm hugs

More than the struggle of the last leaf of the tree, in Autumn

I was more than what you made me

And I was not enough either, incomplete, not whole.

Like a wound, I was left by to bleed and suck out the life within.


I write about pain, I weave words and describe sorrow

Yours and mine. I carry the burden of words and you carry the burden itself.

It’s not mine alone, you are along, riding the wave.

Together, I say, what plagues our hearts in distress

My story and yours, it’s one poem long, with twists and turns and some heart burns

We look at our own sides of the coin and wish for the other to hold

But there is no coin, there is no me and there is no you

No comfort, no relief from the pain so I write about pain, yours and mine.

To connect together, and find what we can call divine.

Dead land

I’m hurt because of your combat boots stomping on me.

I’m dying because you are choking me. I’m choking because of the blood everywhere.

I heard that Dal is sad these days.

There is no shikara to sooth the calm surface of water, now just tears.

Dead are the trees, corpses refusing to sway with the wind

Like a sensual dance in the spring

No longer do the weavers weave stories of times long gone

When some habba khatoon used to sing on a window sill for a long lost past

Forgotten. Amid the guns and the pellets, among the shrieks of those standing guard against infiltration

Those brave souls, weak bodies falling, one by one.

Breaking mentally, every child of trauma raises his or her head

Summers gone dry, the rivers cry

What has happened to my land, now that it is dead.


Call me back, and I will come, I think. I say this to myself in depths of desparity.

Don’t call me back, because I know I will come, I say this to you in moments of sorrow

Heartbreak is painful, the courage it takes


Waiting for the call, something you know will hurt you, make you crumble and yet you wait. Wait for your destruction.

Someday, maybe, a hello.

A note, a smile that was missing from the past times

Kehna asaan nahi hai, par sach hona bhi utna zaroori nahi hai

Hona hota, ho chuka hota, hona nahi hai, tou kehna hi kyu hai

Dabaye hain awaaz halak se na uthe

Shakal tumhari aankhon se na hate

Zaroorat nahi hai tumhari iss zindagi ke baki kuch dinon mai

Bas yunhi pal, pal mere tumhari yaad mai hi Kate.

Mushkil hai, kaha tha tumne kisi roz shayad

Dard hota hai, bataya tha, jataya tha, kuch kaha tou tha

Cheekhon ki aadh main bhool si gayi

Iss dil ke dard mai, kho si gayi

I don’t remember your pain which seems more whimsical today

Was it a ruse? A ploy to make me a fool?

I guess it doesn’t matter, it’s all in the past for us to worry about on our death beds

Today, we rejoice for the misery is very much alive, pulling at the threads of my feeble heart.