‘We don’t really know each other, we never truly met’

He stared at his phone. To an observer he would have seemed cold and calculated, feeling his phone, weighing it up  just as he was weighing up his options. On the inside, turmoil. He had an explanation but no one to listen to it. He deserved it. He read the message again;

I know that i’m completely done with you for good, but i don’t think you actually understand the gravity of what you’ve done, especially when you came over and basically got mad at me after what youdid. Or when you tried aggravate the situation by infuriating me even more.

This isn’t a joke.

You need to know how much you hurt me (although it probably doesn’t even bother you). Never have I felt so hurt about something. I cared about you so much and trusted you more than anyone. You broke that in an effortless and horrific manner; I had never regretted anything before I found out and now, everything is marred.

After all we had been through, and all the times I had been there for you and forgiven you and just cared for you…. I didn’t deserve it.  

The fact you could hurt someone so deeply, and not care, and still act so coldly and cynical about it makes it even worse, especially considering I never did anything to warrant it.  Why you would try or want to hurt or break someone so deeply? I don’t get what hurting me helped you gain.

My friendship turnover rate is higher than Don Bradman’s batting average or greater than the American debt. Recently I was told that if i’m aware of it then I’m aware of my actions and their effects; ability requires consciousness The questions raised above should have answers but I just do not know them.

But what happens once you screw something up beyond the point of redemption, just like in the situation above?

Silence. That pervasive silence that filters through empty houses and hang pictures of itself on walls.

It is during these moments that I look at the words I’ve written and say ‘there is no shelter in you anywhere.

Electoral mystery

It’s an electoral mystery,

The illiterate can’t read history.

So we spread mass hysteria.

They can’t raise a family on minimum wage,

So spew some political diarrhea,

And keep them locked in a cage.


Revolution is the birth of equality and progression.

It’s the antitheses to failure and regression.

Don’t speculate about what Gandhi would say,

Don’t expect economic growth on a tray.

Don’t subscribe to an idea of zero corruption

Cause everything you’ve been told has been a lie.

They want to build you up and make you try,

Without any infrastructure so as you get closer to the Sun,

You fry.

Prometheus brought us fire,

Modi let it burn innocents.

Pandora the media opened the box,

The Gandhis and Congress silently let the terrors consume us.

The ordinary man wanted food to eat

Kejriwal’s anarchy brought them out to the street.


Choose wisely, Choose soon.

Choose the savior, not the goon.

Bleed blue not red.

Vote right India, else we’re all…



Indian elections

Indian elections

Three different candidates. Three equally corrupt and morally bankrupt candidates. Three different parties. Three equally ridiculous parties that are anathemas to progression. 1.2 billion people, 850 million eligible voters and we have a Hindu nationalist, a man who can’t phrase an original sentence and a man whose only response is to defer to the ordinary man. If you think Yuvraj Singh screwed us in the final, you have no idea how badly we’re about to screw ourselves.


Can Modi deal with the Americans, the Pakistanis, the Chinese?

Can Kejriwal?

Can Gandhi?


Can either of them usher in the light of a boom in our economy, a sustainable boom?

Can either of them plug the brain drain in our nation?

Can either of them remind us what it really means to be Indian?


Rebuilding a temple, feeding nationalism, starving the poor.

Feed the poor, starve the economy.

Antagonize the rich, run the country from the pavement.


All of these men want to divide and rule, none want to unite and lead.

You choose India; who is your devil of choice? Our grandparents fought to be independent of criminals, now we’re fighting to be dependent on them.

Political language… is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.

George Orwell



The Alpen-Glow

Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your lies.

Whenever you speak, you ensnare me;

A victim of your confusion, I tried to endure, patiently.

I watched from afar and cared for you indiscriminately.

Sitting close to you, I  yearned for your touch;

A seemingly innocent embrace gave me a rush.

You could have claimed me but you stayed with another,

Every time we got closer, you ran away, further.

Read my words clearly, this is not a safety net,

I accepted our distance, but my feelings and curiosity are not done yet.

I’ll sit here and put pen to paper and ask ‘what if?’

The answer stares back at me, devoid of prosaic mastery;

it is a mystery, it is a blank; unknown, undefined.

I cannot place you nor can I set you free;

So i’ll hold you close in one way or another for eternity.


Day 1

Write Hard and Clear

about what Hurts.

A void. An emptiness. Perhaps it’s because I am a 21st century child that I look to my phone for reiteration of your absence and, upon seeing a lack of conversation the sinking feeling drowns me.

You are hell, purgatory and paradise.

Yet you are none.

You are all around me

Yet you are not here.

Confusion. Sadness. I’m drained and wounded, but this is a wound that will not gush blood.


Yours sorrowfully,



Be Good, Always Pt. 2

My downfall, my muse,

The architect of my happiness, the singer of my blues.

We’re both holding hearts,

Even though your hellos sound like false starts.

On the chessboard I’m chasing only you, the queen.

You’re a puzzle draining all my logic,

A juxtaposition within a straightforward scene

With you, it’s a magical mystery ride

I’d support your argument even if i’m on the other side

because losing to your smile is worth being washed away by the tide

On the court, i’ll fail just to avoid you making unforced errors

I’ll risk it all to have you even though it’s hard

because the way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear

I miss our little talks; be good, always.

Fires rage inside him, burning down forests and engulfing homes.
Tepid waters of a tropical island caress his ankles.

He hears wolves racing through snowstorms, ferocious and rabid.
Palm trees nudge one another gently as a breeze strokes the nape of his neck.

Whirlpools contort ships into the trenches of the sea, swallowing them whole in his mind.
Snowflakes delicately seat themselves on his fingertips before kissing them goodbye.

Blood sprints through his arteries with the rapidity of a typhoon.
Rattled yet assuaged, he cannot make sense of it. He cannot find the words.

His pen settles on an ellipsis.