Moving on…


The battles of wits should not be fought unarmed.Don’t let the kind hearted pink soul inside your body rule your strong desire to move on.Unleash the decisiveness and hit the weak, decayed twigs hard. To stop being yourself is to stop living.Firm hold on one’s beliefs is a key to unmasking the core of your existence.Take the errors off the examining table , even if it’s the wrong , scary , dark tunnel – the possibilities of digging a way out are not feeble.Charge the electric impulse to stimulate the dead neurons , staying smaller than your true girth of wisdom is an insult to your intellect.Brush off the jumbled ends and lose threads , that tie unwanted knots. Set your thoughts free , win over your soul and protect it . Do not let the leaps of momentum against the currents die . To be yourself is the greatest joy in the world



a drop of sunshine,
on a misty day ,
under the purple haze of orange edged clouds,
unfolding a new chapter,
blowing life into a dead night,
a puppet in the hands of nature?
beautifully designed to create a mirage,
could you then read the silent transformation,
of helpless change?
eloquently decorated,
following a certain pattern of change..
again and again?
confessions of nightly secrets whispered into the ears of a new day…



Crave for more,
I weigh my woe..
Do u?
It hurts to live,
Years pile up,
One over the other..
Moons and suns,
Seasons without you,
and yet i crave for more,
More than life,
My eyes give me a faded vision,
My heart a faded emotion,
I dont keep track of time,
The ticking of the clock mocks,
Return to me what i have given you,
Bring me back…


if u can,
My own cries seem distant to me,
An echo to what i was,
The sky is gray with hate,
Time is standing still,
I cannot step ahead ,
Nor do i look back…
I build a wall,
a line,
Dry burning eyes,
I stand in my own way
It is hard shouting out with voices that go unheard,
But do i hear them myself?
I close the common doors,
Insight to me,
The key to look through me..
Let me crave alone, till the end,
Just something that makes me go on

Dark is the night


dark is the night,
darkest is the inner core of thoughts,
i’ll let silence prevail,
let unsaid be unheard…

and unknown be  unsolved sphinx,
paler the moon gets,
louder you hear the howling,
stay silent and let the night sing to you,
tenderly and melodiously,
let the headless shadows dance to the mysterious beats,
in the fog of dread,
sway into arms,
that never show,
whispering wind wandering aimlessly,
shrink ur existence into the aura,
where u merge into the night..

and the nightly darkness merges into u…

Hand in hand.


lets walk till the end of the world,
through opal mist and yellow green canaopy,
lets walk hand in hand with feet not touching the ground,
smile and float in a bubble,
you and me ,
me and you,
together ,

when waves lap at the shores leaving the sand moist,
waves clinging on to the shore and the shore clinging on the waves,
lets walk till we meet the moon and the stars,
lets become a part of it all ,
you and me,
me and you

Back to life.


Bring me back to life,
be an intimate shadow,
be me,
the crease of my palms,
the scent of my skin,
the core of my existence,
the strength that puts shards o’ me together,
be the whisper o’ my quivering lips on a winter’s eve,
be the moon of all the ebony nights,
be the words to my silence,
the tune that the strings on my harp sing,
be an endless dream till the end,
be my soul,
be me , be me..



Only when i let the colors slip through my fingers,
my soul flies back to me….

in the criss cross of lines,
i try to find a line that holds the truth..

i smear dark shades of blues and reds merging them into each other,
trying to get hold of my life..

rubbing my thumb over the bark of a tree,
tracing its texture..

i crave for more,
the nature…
its serenity..

a human form sketched at the last page of my sketch pad…
a figure bowing…

i search for the voice within…
shrill and yet sacred…

i rush my brush strokes blindly…

coats of paint overlapping,
i add in more colors to feed my hungry thoughts..

the unspeakable…
speaks volumes through the curves and twists..

the tree and the pigeons…
the huge blades of yellow green barley..

i paint with the hands which dont belong to me..
they move with a thought of their own..
goin to where the brush takes them…
stroke after storke i stand in a trance, with my feet numb..
i drop my arms,

close my eyes and surrender my existence..
to the moment..