Oh you, the victorious, the successful, the fortunate,
Pay heed to what I have to say
Pride, you’re so right to feel, yet, remember, the
Only difference between us,
Rests in the opportunity,
That you considered and availed, while when,
Up above, someone, directed it to me, and when it
‘nocked at my door,
I kept lamenting my grieves, I over looked.
The one chance that came and gone
Yonder, somewhere.

Variegated Instances II


I am crying again, while sleeping, dreaming about an arid shore littered with cyan and green broken glass bottles. The waves zealously rush and smash their heads against the jagged glass and invisible blood fall everywhere, on the foam of the sea, on the rocks, on the sands and trickle on the sharp edges of cyan-green broken glass.

Each one of them once had a message, safely etched on papyrus and stored in their bellies. A mystic secret message, never delivered, never read, never understood, never felt.

The moon hung low lamenting the fate of these cursed unspoken unwritten words, sentences, paragraphs, that could fill someone’s live, that had enough potential to ensnare anyone, anyone but you.

The stars had made way to utter darkness. And the yellow moon is being fed to it as well.

I tread on. With throbbing pain pulsating just beneath my skin, too vivid but ignorable salt fills my mouth, my eyes, my senses, my everything. I break down. I transform in a bright aqua color bottle.


I delve deep in the sadness to write and then it lingers on, in bits, crawls over my skin, fills my vistas and captures my dreams. And I would be captivated just like that, trying to escape, trapped somewhere in the lowness of life, trying hard to break free. Sadness leaves trails and traces on me, of Goosebumps, like a charcoal line scratched by a little child on saline grim walls, like a moth’s flight, a snake’s path on the sand, a jets smoke that loiters long after it is gone…

The winds keep howling in leaves and trees and I keep wondering. About the fact that the only company I seek of is myself. That I complete the Me in the I. but still I desperately need to smile. Why is it that my ‘want’ to smile is banished? As if dementors really exist. As if the really suck happiness out of you. As if they have sucked all mine.


I am lurking back and forth, wobbling like a jelly, baking away the half-baked pieces, drowning in my coke of like. Time rolls over centuries, years, months, and I don’t know if it was eons ago when we were kids. In my attempts of self denial, especially everything that has something of a past, to get rid of the pain that it brings forth, I’ve somehow destroyed the most vivid and joyous ones in my brain.

Lately, I’ve been listening to our childhood trapped in magnetic tapes, our trivial attempts at recording. And I have been thoroughly emotional, it was poignant. I think the one thing we’re depriving our kids of, is childhood. Anyways, I hope spring continues. I hope it rain.


The set back comes with all the glory. The air is filled with the strange feeling of eeriness. You hear you stomach churning and grinding the bits of what-so-ever you have just swallowed. The unfathomable barriers to your dreams, the extra creased skin at the ends of your lips, A perfectly juvenile heart, A not-so-juvenile self, the utmost messy room and eternal waits.

Sometimes life becomes the weird jukebox of blocks and squares and circles of myriad of shapes and sizes and colors, which range from red to blue and yellow to green and to blue and to blue.

I hope to all my rebellious moves, and to my waywardness, Allah grants me mercy and refuge. Amen.

PS. I dedicate this to Mav. for pushing me enough to write this one 🙂

for pri!

The winds are blowing fiercely. Fast enough that they’re taking with it my words, my thoughts, my ideas, my memories.

And I thought I had become very oblivious of the world and the world is merely returning the favor. I run violently. I thrust my ear phone in my ear to hear to the very loud incomprehensible sounds just to placate the deafening voices in me. Bewildering life. Cajoling me to live.

The words ooze out of my skin and float in the air, aimlessly, purposelessly, fearlessly. I try to grab them in my hand; they slip away, like sand, like smoke, me and my futile attempts.

And then I keep on lamenting the things that I told you, which I shouldn’t have and the words which never escaped my lips about the feeling you had the right to know.
Maybe because the people with whom you entrust with the best of feeling, with whom you’ve shared your past, your present and the worst, you once wanted to share with them, your future, have an absolute knowledge and desire to leave you mid way, get rid of you as if you are some tissue paper, used and binned, just like that. And sadly, these people, more often than not, exercise their ability to do so.

Time repeats. If it has happened once, it can happen again. Forever

So, he turned back, smiled, and uttered the last words before bidding farewell, ‘take care’ and she kept on standing there, seeing herself falling in his eyes, seeing them stealing her place in his heart, finding refuge in his soul, capturing every bit of him that was once hers. She kept of tugging her lips, with thoughts quivering to come out, she kept on struggling with tears and questions like why couldn’t she take care of him instead?

He turned back to walk away and kohl began spreading beneath her eyes.

Variegated instants


I reckon, with precise confidence that a level called negative infinity exists. I know because it is my abode, because, I dwell there.

For long I have been delving deep to peel off the fake confinement, I have sentenced myself, in the re-living. I have been fidgeting with the retrospection – living backwards.

So, the days bounce back, the clock un-wind, the time revise, and I find myself tracing my footsteps, I find myself reversing.

Back to where I started off, from where I thought I had escaped, from that I thought I would never get back, but it is like moving in circles, the point zero returns, sooner or later.


I am lingering in the magic of moments, in sheer delight of microseconds, in the gem of ephemeral time.

Magic seconds loiter in the secret corners of your room, which had you once in their trance, bewitched you, beguiled you and you thought it would be forever. But forever only last too quick for senses to comprehend the duration, to quantify the ‘how much’ too quick, too fleeting, a moment when you felt that you’re passing through happiness, this time not as a spectator, it daintily brushed with your skin and in that particular split second, you breathed glee, you drank delight, sniffed the smiles, lived happiness and in that rare exhilarating moment, you surpassed life.


What ever I do is prone to mistake. Sheer quantity of more than half of the things I do bear the inevitable fate of falling out, of place, of time, of order and of correction. I am just too capable of losing my things, my senses, my heart, my head, my bits and chunks.

I curl in humiliation, like toe nail, like a broken fetus, I think I am embarrassment personified. And I lose at the speed of light, having lost a continent and two rivers I still posses the ability to repeat it, over and over again.


I dig deep in my sanity, only to find blatant madness – insanity perforating through my skin and out. Heaps and piles; of insane dreams, insane desires, insane nights, insane me.

I’ve promised that this time I will not sell my dreams, I will not bid for my words, I will not send you my hopes adorned in a casket, I will not let you venture in my forbidden arena of desires. This time, I have promised, I will survive.

(these are just emotions, jam packed in me.. so tried this new genre… hope you guys like it!