Poetry, Quill


and then there was him,
with his glazed eyes,
he sits and stares
the night sky
wondering “where it all went wrong”
it causes him to scream inside
yet with his face so sweet,
you see nothing but a smile
hiding unspoken words
reciting a poem of his heart.



Like the moon,
I emerged at night.
Nourished by the dark,
As flowers are by light.
For goodness,
I battled with all my might,
Yet against the Devil,
I lost the fight.


Poetry, Quill

ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

तो क्या हुआ जो दिल टूट गया,
ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

तो क्या हुआ जो ख्वाहिशें नहीं हुई पूरी,
तो क्या हुआ जो छोड़ गया वो तुम्हे,
तो क्या हुआ जो इबादत सरीखा ईश्क़ अधूरा रह गया,
ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

तो क्या हुआ जो अंदर सब खोखला सा रह गया,
ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

तो क्या हुआ जो दिल हो गया पत्थर,
तो क्या हुआ जो आँखें बन गयी दरिया,
तो क्या हुआ जो लिपट गयी खामोशियाँ,
ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

तो क्या हुआ जो दिल टूट गया,
ज़िंदा तो हो ही ना तुम!

Poetry, Quill


I often pour cranberry blend into a decanter and leave it for a couple of days to rot.

Until it turns rancid and all the sugar turns sour. To sip on it is an acquired taste, more like inhaling cigarette smoke.

And while I lay on my bed, with closed doors closed and lights off, with this secret recipe of mine, I wonder to myself-

Am I allowed to feel?

I do know you can trick people but not yourself and I do try- to be true to my conscience- and let this gloom envelope me. But I fail

I fail to feel

A deep heavy voice strikes the back of my head, “You can’t waste this opportunity. Not often does this mighty sadness descent upon you. Stop mourning and trying to feel and go and create. Mould this gloom into a poetry or something before it vanishes.”

A good businessman gives his clients what they desire the most and also makes sure that he pounces on every good opportunity. And poetry, and this word play.

Isn’t it but- Business.

And isn’t this what this generation of ours, this generation of half hearts and half smiles, truly desires? Talks of pain and narrations of sorrow that tells them you’re not alone.

So I throw my hand on the switch right above my bed. Pull out the chair, and the dusty diary from the right of the book shelf. And I take a quick glance on the screen of my phone- I click your tab to check if there’s any new message, I smile at nothing, have a good look of your face and re read our previous conversations- all this before my conscience catches me.

And by the time, conscience could react to this cold heart of mine, I already have used that glimpse of you as a source of rage, of fuel, just as this pen uses ink and have begun to write.



सुबह की ये मन्द मन्द सी गरमी
ना जाने क्यों अपने साथ ये ठंडी हवाएं लाती है,
उड़ा लेना चाहती हैं शायद मुझे अपने साथ
क्यों ये मुझे इतना भाती हैं?

चेहरे पर रौशनी पड़ती है जब सूरज की
खुद ब खुद आँखों का परदा गिरता है तेरी याद में :
दूर इतने तू…
दूर इतने तू की मुझतक तेरी आवाज़ें भी न पहुंचे
ज़रुरत भी क्या है..
इन हवाओं से ही तो अब हमारी मुलाकातें होती हैं ।

दिल को ऐसे पिघलाती है ये ठंडी हवा
जैसे कानों को कोयल के मीठे बोल सुन गए हों,
कौन न सुन ना चाहे इनको?
शायद इसीलिए दीवारों के भी कान होते हैं(?)

सुबह उठकर तुझे याद करता था मैं
यादों में बातें थी, या बातों में यादें ?

इस दिल के सन्नाटे को अब मैं
सुनकर भी अनसुना कर देता हूँ,
अब मैं तुझे याद नहीं करता
अब मैं चाय गरम पीता हूँ ।

Poetry, Quill


रौंगते कुचलते चले इन पत्तों को
किसी पर सपने पढ़ा
तो किसी पर लिखा था यादें
किसी ने सुना सिसकियों को
तो किसी ने छुई सीपियाँ

चलते हुए तरक्की की धुप में
जाने कहाँ से ‘क्यों’ का ख्याल आया
फुर्सत में बैठ, जज़्बे की छाँव में
खुदसे बात करें, फिर दिल में मलाल आया

मुस्कुराते हुए बैठे ज़मीन पर
तो देखा यहां भी पूरी दुनिया बसी थी
साला, तब जाने
लोग तो हर जगह ही उतने है
यह तो ख़ुशी है जिसकी कमी थी

Poetry, Quill

बैठ गया हूँ फिर…

बैठ गया हूँ फिर अपनी छोटी सी यह डायरी लेकर,
कानों में आवाज़ तेरी,
चेहरे पर मुस्कुराहट है,
एक हाथ में कलम और दूजे में तेरा हाथ है.

ख़ैर पता तो था घंटे भर की बात है सारी
आखिर कानों में आवाज़ है अब भी तेरी
चेहरे पर भी मुस्कुराहट है
एक हाथ में कलम पर दूजे में अब
सिर्फ तेरा एहसास है.

Poetry, Quill

The Peasant’s Sophie

Ahoy!!! hope you are all doing well. Today, your humble servant, presents forth you the first part of probably his longest poetry and the very first ballad… So, here it is… enjoy the first 2006 characters… 😉 

Once on an isle, made of Glee,
A peasant fell in love with a maiden,
Called Sophie.
They were young kids back then, immature and guile,
Yet pretentious of wisdom Sophie cried,
“What purpose do I fill of yours? Obsessed with my slender waist and lissom neck, or something else that you adore?”

“Nothing much superficially to be obsessed, just the tenderness you carry within besides the way you dress”
said the peasant with a wry smile and suddenly “pardon” surprised Sophie replied.

“Oh! You’ve heard already, what I said,
It’s just the novice way to address”
Hiding her lovely smile, beneath the protest “Aren’t you afraid of my family’s power” she said.

“Fear is relative term I think, and seeing your beauty it ought to sink.”
“How unabashed peasant you are… Feel the agitation of the hour.
You’re talking to the daughter of grantor, seeing you behavior he may begin a war.”

“A war killing innumerable for a spark of love. If the grantor pleases so, I’m afraid soon it will be a land of crows.”

P.S. : The title MAY be temporary, wait for the complete update and continue reading my first ballad.

Poetry, Quill


As i sat down, reminiscing the moments we shared,

I noticed intricate details,

that defined our love, the bond we shared.

I tried to bury my feelings,

but the crevice in my heart won’t be filled

and the tears in my eyes won’t stop,

I was devastated as I realised,

it was meaningless to be alive without a reason,

I am not here to wander aimlessly,

Devoid of purpose,

I was hopeless, as i got a call,

which changed me, my life, my everything,

that call was by my 


Poetry, Quill

Mighty, but broken.

In the broken old land,

There once lived a man,

Glorious, and mighty was he,

Trees shook with his thunder,

Boulders broke beneath his fists,

And fear striked in every foreign heart,

Yet a lanky young dame,

Tore his gleeful heart apart,

And all that was left,

Was a broken little man,

Perfect for this old and treacherous land,

And he kept his heart still hidden inside,

Too afraid for it to touch the light,

And in darkness he spent away his life.