I’m a testimonial of them, who? please meet:

Mom and Dad: my Guardian angels, who bought me in this world, kneed Love in every inch of me and taught me that giving is divine. Who gave me trust and courage to go venture in this bad world, but never forget to keep a check, not because they trust me any less, Continue reading


Note: I wrote this piece some three years back, adding a little more to it and posting here. Suicide. I think when you kill your conscience, and stop listening to it. You commit a suicide.

“I am planning to jump off the roof.”

“Planning again ?”

“yeah, yeah again, and this time I am Firm.”

“Oh, We’ll see…”



She rested her palm softly onto the wooden slab of the table and slightly leaned forward.

“Look, I am no good”

“You never were”

Eyes grew wide in exasperation. Color rushed to her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes! I deserve to be killed”

“I didn’t say that”

Pupil dilated in frustration.

“Oh yea? I can listen to all what you say and what you don’t”

“Sigh! You never could”


“There was always a guardian angel for you, you never looked back”

“And I never will” she spit out.

“So when?”

“When? When what?”

“When – when you are jumping off?”

“Jumping? Uh, Tonight. Yes Tonight. Tonight”

“But, why?”

“Why?” she decided to give it a second thought.

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Because loneliness delves deep into me and I am tired of talking to the lifeless bricks of the wall of my room; because I’m rejected as a person, as a girl, as a sibling, as a daughter as a lover, as a student!! I only wonder if my creater doesnt reject me as a creation. Because it is terrible knowing it all but unable to change anything, because I am the one shunned behind and everyone is so reluctant to give me whatever I deserve, if I deserve at all” she shuddered and a few tears lingered on her jaw, they fell to make the little room wet.

“Hmm” she nodded, not a very polite one, neither rude.

Because my words have ended, lost, forgotten, burnt and ashes. I have no words, which I used to utter with the fleeting characters on the screen, I always watch shows with the tune mute, and I always make dialogs for the moving people. Do you listen? does anyone listen? do you care? does anyone care? do you love? Does anyone love??” she held her head in her palms.

“Ahh!” she uttered a mournful sigh.

All the gratuitous Insults, the entire appalling demeanor… as if I am crumbling in the filthy slush-pile! The inferiority complex swallowing me, I’ve lost confidence in the only thing I was so confident of, Myself!” she lurched, and shivered terribly.


She bit her lower lip in anger, stared at her.

“You were never a help, you never Will as well.”

And she, within micro seconds, grabbed the cologne bottle, and threw it towards her.


Some glass broke.

Then she stared at her, some jagged pieces of freshly broken mirror seemed to be glimpsing back. She turned towards the door, and rushed out of the room, never to come back again.


The clouds walk with me!
I stretch my hands and starts descend to let me touch them.
and when i jump and shriek, The moon giggles!

The rain droplets come and caress my cheek
winds blow to play with my hair!
and I lose myself in the looking and loving.

Oh dear,
You may come some other time!
I’m not alone!
I have moon, stars, clouds, rain and winds with me
My ultimate lovers for tonight 🙂



My first take for this kind of poem.
Please tell me how it was?


We’re shifting, and in the process of packing I have found myriad of small useless colorful things which were perfectly hidden in the obscurity of my room. Old broken things that are mostly of no use, that deserve to be thrown away or given off. I would do neither. The narcissist me would cajole me to keep them only because they’re mine. The logistic me would give off wild persuading logics to put them in my prospect cupboard. The creative me would tempt me about the beautiful color they possess and how they would decor my room. The possessive me would take over and I would want to keep them no matter what. Continue reading

Excursion to middle of Hills, Daman-e-Koh!

Somebody in the mist tucks a tooth in the lower lip. Apprehensive, somebody in the mist listen to the far off sounds of strange instruments, smells the unknown, wild – but enchanting fragrance and remember strange sounding names – that tug the blurry memories of childhood. Somebody totally lost in one of those iridescent day-dream that appears to be so real and physical. This somebody, none other than me, blankly listens to the engine of the pacing car, try to swallow the feeling and feel its taste, how does the tongue respond to it? breathes the chilly air, that can give goose-bumps, beholds the magic that this air can do to each cell of her body – rejuvenates !! Continue reading


When all the sadist people are punching plastic keys in the cyber world chasm, I sit beneath the black and smile to myself. I have moon with me and the stars in the belly of the night sky, me and My friends!
and when the lonely people gather around to celebrate Saturday nights in the nebulous virtual world.. I jump and shriek with my favorite cousin, playing our silly game of running around each other and clapping simultaneously. Too rejuvenating a game that I feel young and blithesome, even though I should feel older, maturer and stern But it felt juvenile. The extrovert me rips off the neurotism and lingers. The socialistic me paint the cheeky grins, and I miss my loneliness.

May be getting over the morbidity means surrealism.
Maybe sometime, surrendering is good!

The About me.

I cover myself because “…by covering our beauty, we’re evaluated for our intelligence and skills instead of looks and sexuality. Many women who cover are filled with dignity and self-esteem and are happy to be identified as Muslim women. By wearing hijab the woman is concealing her sexuality but allowing her femininity to shine…”

I’m an artists and accountants manqué! I sleep and i dream. about chocolates, Continue reading