Lots of flowers fell in the valley,

Not a single saffron dear.

Who could cut down branches, really?

In seams of garlands slithers fear.

A morn a mourn, a vale a veil,

A terror in turmoil of the breach

Of sacred faces in these places

In the sight but out of reach.

Lots of trees are in the valley

But wind so vicious growls, one,

Some trees are faded, some decapitated

See the saffron burning sun.

A night not knight, a spy a sly,

A raze in rose of different kind.

Who broke the pattern of this sky,

A face, a soul, but broken mind.

Lots of jungles fell in valley,

Who sparked this fire bright?

Colours are losing out their ally

Sky too burns with saffron light.

Hot in haught, cloth in clots

Hair in here in gore so coal

The sword is down in rusting knots

And sheath is far in burning hole.


6am to 10pm

Don’t don’t don’t copulate,

Between 6am to 10pm

Don’t don’t don’t masturbate

Between 6am to 10pm

Don’t sell condoms between

6am to 10pm I said again

And turn on ‘Astha Channel’

Hey Yogi, did yoga today?

Cow stretch? There come Gau-rakshaks

Don’t don’t don’t speak

Between 6am to 10pm

Sex education? Excuse me?

Not between 6am to 10pm

Take that business to your home

But not between 6am to 10pm

However if you want to buy some condoms,

Buy between… ‘Hey where’s your Aadhar?’

Did you link it to your ‘ahem-ahem bill?’

Not between 6am to 10pm.

What did you say?

1.6 Cr abortions in India?

81% at home?

Nah, not between 6am to 10pm.

50% pregnancies unintended?

Not between 6am to 10pm.

Peacock doesn’t cry between 6am to 10pm.

Cow doesn’t give birth between 6am to 10pm.

Modi doesn’t…. Ahem-ahem. Sorry!

What? 4-year old boy molested a 4-year old girl?

Nah, not between 6am to 10pm.

‘But sir, school starts at 9a…’


Padmavati, Padmavati Padmavati…

‘But sir, 300,000 farmers protested in Delhi…’


Not between 6am to 10pm.

‘Government is giving Chastity belts for free’

‘But I don’t want it.’

Brainwash, Padmavati, Shambhulal, Cow, 370.

‘How the hell it came on my genitals,

What the… Why can’t I open it?’

‘We linked it to your Aadhar.’

Sigh. ‘Let’s enter the Aadhar number.

What the…. Why can’t I still open it?’

Not between 6am to 10pm.

In The Pile of the Ashes

They said we’d bring you a new light

But who cares if they shut the old off?

In the colors of black and faded white

They added red like a burning tar.

And if the sound is broken in our hearts?

Do we really care if this world smothers on?

Hinding in the cavities of our faces,

Do we really want to rage to win this war?

And hide in the nights not to be a victim,

And speak our mind without a question,

Are we here safe and sound from the wolves that we’ve fed?

To tear something else apart

But now they’re not in their den

We’re scared of holding pens

They’re scared of us holding pens

Ink still is stronger than the sword.

But do we need it on our papers?

Or need it on our faces?

When Rookies are with the guns

And killing off rising Aces?

The beast we’d fed has turned his back on us

It’s grown bigger than our faces

And peace is hiding in the rust.

Red is over all the places.

They say that we’ll move on,

From the heartache and the pain.

But all the suns that set,

In the cold blood of the slain,

Will it echo ever or not?

Will it be the one of the ones we forgot?

Is it out of our hands now,

What we brought out of our heads?

Tell me how do you sleep

Backstabbed in the bloodstained beds?

Are we leaving this one off

Or running from within?

The wolves will devour all they’ve got

Is our maiden names Sin?

Do we really care?

Is it okay, is it fair?

There goes one more down,

In the pile of the ashes.


‘Hello! is there anyone out there? hello! hello!’ The quiet was loud.
A squirmish. A rustle. Something came to being.
‘Oh! hey there, little fellow. You…’ silence and analyzation, ‘You… are different. Quiet queer that I have ever… seen. I have never seen anything before.’
‘Oh,’ squeamishly it sighed while frantically looking around through its bewildered eyes which were welled up with tears because of the overwhelming sensation and realization of being, ‘I am…’ it fumbled, its voice shuddered, ‘I am…’ it tried once again but couldn’t find the right word for it didn’t know a lot of words yet. The feeling was overwhelming, ‘I am…’
‘Oh, little fellow! Don’t worry. We will figure it out. I always figure it out,’ It said with a false sense of proud. As far as It could go, It knew nothing but Itself for there was nothing but Itself. For the first time that It had found a creature so very majestically different than what It had ever perceived. ‘Where do you come from?’ It asked humbly. It felt an immense adoration, an immense love, for The Little Creature.
‘I was…’ it squealed, and looked around. Bamboozled at having found nothing, it whispered, ‘Where are you?’
‘Oh, I am all around you,’ It flaunted Itself, danced around and smiled. It had always wanted to do that. It was just that there was no one there before to see.
The Little Creature tried hard to look around only to be left frustrated. ‘I cannot see you,’ it said meekly.
‘Hmm,’ It replied with a great concern as if It was contemplating. It pretended that It knew why, though It too had never seen Itself. It was just aware of its existence. It did not know “the why!” It never cared to think much about it. Thinking wasn’t worth it. For the very first time, It had seen something. Otherwise, it was just a feeling of the presence of The Others. It would touch The Others and feel their shapes inside of Its head. The Others will always ask It to let them work. They were busy creating something. ‘We will see to it,’ It replied after a long thought of nothing.
Once again there was a long silence. ‘Who made me?’ The Little Creature asked.
‘I guess that would be The Others,’ It replied, ‘but where are they? I cannot see them. They were working right before you were there.’ It felt around, but The Others were not there. ‘Good riddance,’ It said with a tinge of unconcern, ‘they were queer. Always busy. Never had time to play with me.’ It paused for a long moment. The Little Creature didn’t say anything. It began again, ‘they never could anyway. They could not feel me was what they said. Queer things.’
‘But I can feel you,’ The Little Creature replied, but this time with a beamed up voice. A feeling of understanding and recognizing something elated it. ‘You are…’ it tried to find the words to say. The struggle to find the right word to say was immense. ‘You are…’ it tried to think harder, but the word won’t come yet. The Little Creature remembered something that was there before it. What was it? ‘You are…’
‘Oh,’ It replied in amazement, ‘You are very very queer.’
The Little Creature shrank. It called The Others queer and did not like them. “Queer was a wrong word,” The Little Creature was intimidated.
‘Oh no, no,’ It replied all of a sudden, ‘you are a good queer, unlike them, The Others.’
‘Oh,’ somewhat convinced of it, The Little Creature replied.
‘So, well,’ It took a good look at the little creature. ‘What should we call you? You must have a name. Do you remember your name?’
‘I…’ The Little Creature struggled again. The Little Creature remembered. There was something. The Little Creature could hear the talks, the long-gone talks, something that was there before it. The Little Creature tried to remember, ‘I am…’ it was frustrating. What it was that The Little Creature had to remember. ‘The Others, where are they?’ The little Creature asked impatiently.
‘How am I supposed to know? They were right there where you are, and then they just disappeared before you came,’ It replied and began to hum something; something that It always hummed. It did not have lots of care. It just enjoyed itself.
The Little Creature listened to It for a while and learned the pattern. The Little Creature started to hum too after trying a little, but its humming was different. The Little Creature’s humming was loud and exactly opposite to Its humming. Unlike Its creeping and adulating tones The Little Creature’s humming was fierce, a monotone extremely majestic.
‘Queer,’ It said in bewilderment, ‘Where did you learn to do that?’
‘From you,’ The Little Creature giggled.
‘Queer, queer,’ It said, ‘I never do that.’
‘Why cannot I see you?’ The Little Creature asked with the utmost affection.
‘I don’t know,’ It tried hesitated for Its fake proud of omniscience.
‘But you always figure it out,’ The Little Creature said.
‘Oh you ask a lot of questions,’ It said haughtily and tried to look away. As soon as It did so, it could see nothing but feel. It moved away, further and further and further, but It was still around The Little Creature. ‘Oh, did I have to be so big?’ it sulked.
‘But I cannot see you. How big are you?’ asked The Little Creature.
‘Oh, this one I can tell,’ It thought for a while, ‘I am…’ It tried to find the words, but there was none. ‘I am…’ it was frustrating. It always thought that It knew the answer to this one so it never really thought about it. How big was It? ‘I am…’
‘I guess we both do not know anything about ourselves,’ pulling its face down, The Little Creature said. An overwhelming sadness came over it.
‘I do,’ once again It declared with a false proud. But then It couldn’t help it but be moved by The Little Creature’s plight. It could not see The Little Creature sad. It felt a turbulence inside of It. ‘Oh, Oh, Oh,’ It said with great affection, ‘do not be sad Little Creature.’ It thought of how It could cheer up The Little Creature. It thought of showing Its dance. The Others always asked It to dance whenever they felt frustrated in creating whatever they were busy creating. The Others would get happy after pulling its face down and get back to their work. “But The Little Creature was not creating anything, so dancing was not going to make The Little Creature cheery,” It thought.
‘Where are The Others?’ The Little Creature could not hold its tears and started to bawl. Just when The Little creature bawled something around it appeared to both of them. It was the queerest thing. The things looked like The Little Creature but were not it. The Little Creature stopped bawling, and the thing disappeared.
‘What was that?’ The Little Creature asked in awe.
‘The Others, I suppose,’ It said, ‘but quite not like them. Queer, very queer.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know everything,’ It said pulling Its pride together. ‘I always touched them. I knew them. But they are tiny now. I wonder what happened to them.’
‘They made me?’ The Little Creature gaped.
‘Quite so,’ It replied. ‘Can you do it again?’ It asked.
The Little Creature nodded and tried to bawl again, but this time there was no bawling. It was a loud humming, and it became more itself. This time whatever happened was permanent. Both of them looked around in awe. The Others were there, they were always there, but in a very small size now. They looked like something like The Little Creature. But half of their other side was just like It.
‘The Others, they look like you and me,’ It said in grave astonishment.
‘What are they doing?’ asked The Little Creature.
‘They are dancing, I taught them how to,’ It replied, ‘look at you, all this while you had been dancing too.’
The Little Creature looked at itself for the first time, it was dancing. The Little Creature looked Majestic. ‘Do you dance too?’ it asked happily.
‘Always,’ It replied and danced faster than all of them. It danced, The Others shook and started to turn into something like The Little Creature even faster than before.
Seeing it, both of them danced and danced. Making it go faster and faster and faster. There was a joy which they shared.
‘So you are The Others,’ It said as It slackened.
‘I guess I am The Others,’ The Little Creature looked at itself, ‘But I am different.’
‘Oh yes, yes, you are,’ It said, ‘Definitely,’ and then It looked at revolving The Others.
‘I am…’ said The Little Creature, struggling to find the right word. It was in its head. The Little Creature knew what it was.
The Little Creature remembered something, something that was there before it, ‘I am…’ what was it? It’s something very queer The Little Creature thought. What it was that The Others were saying before. Yes, The Others were saying something when it was The Others. ‘I am… Light,’ it remembered. Finally, it remembered.
‘Oh,’ It said, still looking at revolving The Others.
‘You are Darkness,’ said The Little Creature, Light. Light had remembered its name finally.
‘Is it what they, The Others, called me when you were them before?’ It, Darkness, asked.
‘Yes, I remember this much only. They never talked really much,’ replied Light. ‘Where did the Others come from?’
‘They were always inside of me,’ Darkness said with pride. This time it was a pure and elated pride.
‘Where did you come from?’ asked Light.
‘Oh queer, queer, queer,’ It blurted snidely, ‘You ask too many questions.’
‘Do not worry, you will figure it out,’ said Light, ‘you will always be there to figure it out.’

Far across, in between them, revolving The Others were forming their amalgamation on one another, to one another. There was a coexistence. ‘We are together now,’ said Light, ‘We will call it a silhouette.’
‘What do you mean by ‘a silhouette’?’ Asked Darkness.
‘Oh, queer, queer queer…’ said Light.




Just tell me this, ‘why do you have to go?’
All the blues in reds, do we know?
Is there an end to this madness?
Do flowers grow where we fall?

A little bit of reason might suffice,
Just tell me who we are saving from.
Are we really willing to win?
And if we do, isn’t it just a whim?

Why are we raging war for peace?
Why are we killing when we are made to love?
‘Where do you have to go?’
Will we meet again?

If it is love for your nation
Do we love our home enough?
For the motives of just a few
You fight when I know you don’t

Who wants to kill, I know you don’t
You wish the war doesn’t begin
But you still go when they call
Is that how women and men fall?

All the soil and the sky
They see everything passing them by
I don’t think they love us
That’s why they didn’t give us wings or roots.

Or maybe they loved us so much?
And they did not bind us to them thus
So that we could go and explore the universe
Why are we fighting yet?

‘Why do you have to go?’
Do they cry differently when you kill?
Or spill a different blood?
Do thorns grow where they die?

Of Home

As I live under a shadow
Of gas and of fear
The ammunition of sorrow
Lingers on forever here

On sweet snow and pines
Shattered roof of these shrines
Take a look at these valleys
Graves that rise in rallies

A fight that never ends
Stones and sticks on skin like drums
Of freedom forsaken amends
In wails and silenced hums

Some are taken and never returned
Some are gone and just gone
Rest lay here turned and turned
Imprisonment keeps moving on

I am the smoke and I am the ice
Hiding in days and sleepless at nights
It is my valley, dolor in paradise
Cascade of lost and neverending lights

Welcome to Kashmir
A land that never rests
Of home and of fear
Of sold souls’ formidable tests

Two Months

Oh Delhi, you old yet raw abode
Your veins are flooded
Your bones are cluttered.
The way you boil is impatient,
And your slithering chill sedates
Yet culminates the hearts.
You rise and you run the miles.
You do not sleep or yawn.
The wind you harbour is not air
It is life playing and bruising
It is hopes assembled and raged.
How I hate your guts
The way you churn our souls
There is a dishonesty in your honesty
And dishonesty that reeks of honest pain.
You can turn a rock into gold
And make titanium crumble
That is your might, your force.
Love has a million meanings to you
And yet love for you is pure.
You can take more than you give
And what you give is forever more
Than what we take in believe
And you ever did the candid
Show that outdid forevermore.
Change of seasons and weather
That muses the muse and troubles the breath
They say you reek of inhumane shell
Yet I find a humanity lying in your fissures
Strange, frightening and intimidating humanity
In the furnace of your revolutions
So fierce that it tans the souls
Makes some wings rust and some soar.
You withdraw whatever, whenever you want
And you give like a humble old woman
Aren’t you fascinating?
Never growing old, never the same
Such cage of sad pleasure
Such land of rising dreams
For heartbreak enliven wants
Weaving their meanings in your lap.

Dear Hachi

Dear Hachi,
It has been a year now that you were there and it has been more than 9 months since you left me. I have tried to move on from your memories but every time my heart comes and breaks down at them. If you were a person, my love would have been validated and my pain might have been felt by my fellow beings. But alas! People say that they understand, but they do not know my pain. They do not understand how I have cried for you, again and again, they do not understand the solace you brought to my heart, they do not understand how I lost a part of me when I lost you. How could they? A relationship between a man and an animal has always been defined by the perspective of the animals because you are the ones who don’t have a voice yet love the most. My pain becomes invalid because it is something they have never pondered upon, because we humans are selfish and we move on so easily. Then why is it that I cannot move on from you?
It is summer again, the same time when you would push your body against mine because you could not sleep otherwise. I never shared my bed with anyone yet you would sleep on it with me like it was yours, indeed it was yours. I never felt comfortable in that bed ever since. I Remember, you would never sleep with your mommy or play with her because you wanted me more than you wanted her, or so it seemed to be. You would not leave me alone for a moment; whenever I would go out of the home, you would start to panic and cry. And for that reason, I never stayed anywhere for more than a day. It is that time again when you made me fall in love with you when you made me believe that love transcends everything.
Dear Hachi, the reason that I am writing today is because I want to cry. I do not think I will ever be loved by a human being as much as you loved me. Once again today, someone let me down, someone let me know that I was hoping in vain. Just when I think I am there, I am never there. I think about you most of the times, I see you in every dog’s face. I know you will never be here again, you will never read this, you will never come again. But how much I hope to be proven wrong, just a wishful thinking. I wish I could hold you again and cry, cry because I am not perfect and I don’t think anyone else will love me but you. I hope you come back again, I hope we could share a bed again, I hope I could give you a life that you deserved.
My heart has come to a halt without you, I hope it is not over yet. I hope I could give all the love to someone that I couldn’t give you. I hope I could show someone what you showed me. Dear Hachi, I love you and I will till my dying breath.

A Broken Man

I am down with drugs
February feels bright
Picking my bones dried dirt
My skin’s smeared in blight
My room is a mess
My heart is dirty white
An inch from foam around
The kid has now died
My love, my love is substituted
With the needles, the powder
I hear my life falling apart
This once its louder
I hear things and see them
Spirals of smoke I afloat
Aligned to the floor I fly
Drifting in my lonesome boat

I am down like silt
Naked in a broken lust
Shallow, so shallow is view
My penis is a replica of dust
My want loaths alone here
With a somber fun wasted
My soul is of salty sweat
I know, I have tasted
I am a brine of vile
Mounted in this silent room
With high flowing inside
Substance of meander doom
Days I spend, nights and in between
I fly in an unseen sky
Come find me lying in filth
Waiting for the world to die

Oh if I wish to see the world
Give me a sight of infinity
A view spectacle of sky
With eternal unbound mobility
And when the comets rolling come
Or sun goes finally old, obese
When the moon will be but a star
Must I awe at the rave of these
A calligraphy of universe
Bamboozling, mysterious, poetic verse
Waves may ripple my soul a day
Of Andromeda’s carnality with MilkyWay
From lone plantes and cast out stars
To see ocean vapour go out of reach
Let me live a life in head
To Marvel my people’s universal breach
Oh, I am a man with an outrun dream
How distant yet true does it seem.