Passion

I have been fighting these tears--on the brink tears.

Fighting all the too loud questions and the fears.

It seems to be déjà vu all over for me again.

Just after flushed happiness comes the pain.

I’d said to myself a long ago that I wouldn't do this.

But here I am, betrayed by my latent wishes.

The questions stay bottled up inside.

Pounding my head; relief only when I’ve cried.

All the doubts in my mind are killing me.

What keeps you silent? When I need you to feel me.

Slowly a yawning hole is opening in my soul.

It’s only a matter of time before its shows in my eyes.

I hope you know what you want, no mistake.

Its only love that lasts, the passion pales in its wake.

When you’ve made up your mind, knock on my door.

But the door closes behind you, so you gotta be sure.

If it isn’t love, I won’t hold you to anything

But beyond this point, there is no going back.

Jaded Naivety

I got so tired of these damned clichés in my poem,

So thought of getting rid of every one of ‘em

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

So I say: ‘what the hell, grab the moment and run free’.

There are things like deadlines, priorities and commitment.

And then there are things like strawberry wafers, things pleasant.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

I’m done with the ‘what if’s and the ‘why not’s.

So something’s gonna hurt. But you still do it anyway.

Coz it’s forming a part of now, tomorrow’s memory’s cachet.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

Giving free run to my imagination, the string-less kite.

And he made it so that we couldn’t even be friends.

And she’s become a candle that burns both its ends.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

So I am letting go of both, hope it gives them hell.

Not that I hate, not that I love; its just that I don’t care.

It had in actuality become too much of a burden to bear.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

Something’s remain unbroken, unfortunately perhaps.

Like hope for a new beginning, thinking things will be better.

Knowing most probably they won’t—tomorrow is today’s daughter.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

What is life if not spent on foolish naivety?

Shooting for the moon

Its been a long time that I have seen stars in the sky,

This thick grey cloud clogging up the city nighttime,

Hiding so cruelly all the precious diamonds in the sky.

Or is it that the cloud is in our minds, fogging brains?

Of materialism, of egos, of cunning, of always wanting more.

A disease permeates our generation—shooting for the moon.

And shoot some people who stand in your way too.

Where friendship is obsolete, its all professional here.

Black coats, black trousers and blacker hearts.

Its been a long time since I saw the sun set over the Ganges

But I still see corpses floating down everyday.

Only this time, its not just decomposed dead bodies.

It is the stench of decaying decadent souls.

"Sapne"

Aaj fir humara ek sapna toota.

Sapney to toot te hi rehte hein.

Aur hum bhi unke sang bhikhar te rehte hein

Nadan yeh dil jane sapne kyu dekhta hein?

Aap hume chor kar itne door nikal gaye...

Aur socha ke hum wohi pe rah jayenge?

Hum un me se nahi jo roye aur bhul jaye.

Hum un mein se hein jo hanse aur yaad kare.

Zindagi ke iss safar me kitni choti si zustajoo thi,

Hum ko pata bhi nahi chala aur khatam ho gayi.

Par jo bhi thi, bohot pyari si thi, thi bari hanseen.

Ab agey kya hoga woh to hume nehi pata,

Zindagi aansoon se kahan rukti hein?

Jo humare liye na ruka, hum unke liye nehi rukte hein.

PS: Forgive mistakes in Hindi, not very well versed in it. This came naturally in Hindi, I dont know why. So I wrote it down the way it arrived in the world.

A Chance Meeting with You.

It’s funny how you and I are alike in our vulnerabilities.

We actually have the very same debilitating disabilities.

And yet we are so very different at the same time.

You are a guy, and I mere woman; so feeble I’m.

While your eyes blink and you have a nervous stance.

I sit there with barely an eyelash batting, lost in life’s dance.

With hands as steady as rock that lifts up the glass.

I look into the eyes of your mind—you know I trespass.

Yet inside I am screaming too, just like you are.

I don’t have the permission to speak, its just bizarre.

And true to myself not a word passes my lips, I feel dead.

Not numb, dead, like something’s gone away, has bled

And it’s never going to come back ever, gone forever

I wish I had a rock to stand on today, when everything’s a blur.

But how can I forget I am my own rock, cruel Irony.

As I dash against myself, its me cutting myself vainly.

Like always…

For Jazzy

I dreamt of your little innocent face last night.

I saw you taking your laborious gasping breaths,

I shook your lifeless body again and again.

Countless times (and I tried to count) in my dreams

Hoping against hope that you came back to us.

But you had already gone onto a better world,

Leaving a little hole where you had occupied,

My heart and ours for one whole week.

You are not forgotten and you will be loved.

We hope that your sojourn to the after-life,

Is filled with pink bows, milk and kisses

And maybe the fishes you never could have.