End of the day

Where from I begin to tell?

My heart for you, my heart, oh well!

Four months and gone, such heavy charm

I dream I lay by your arms.

Just hold me tight when my lips shake

Fall down and crumble, fall down and break.

Oh my man, my muse, my fate,

I wish I hadn’t been so late,

To woo your sorrows and begone

All the monsters you should’ve won.

Your eyes, your lips, your perfect face

Have pushed so many hearts to race.

They say that it isn’t pure,

How can be they so sure?

When hoards of tears we’ve endured.

Who is to say, if I may

Be a man and love a man the same,

To feel his skin, to feel his heart

So fragile as a hurt kid’s art.

Well, they won’t know how it feels

In your arms when my body reels.

Love is love and hate is hate

And being adored in one kind state

Which doesn’t come from all the lust

It takes heartbreaks to feel the trust.

And I found that in your life

Where came to end my endless strife.

So let them burn if they must so

We’ll just wave and let them go.

And if you fear, ever for once

Just know that a man is dunce

And so am I, and so are they,

But you’ll always find me at the end of the day.



I saw you in my dream today,

Laughing at me like a summer sun

These trees that rustle now call your name

But leads know you’re on the run.

I sat beside you by the lake,

And looked across the velvet sky,

There’s nothing out there in empty shells

The stars, they burn your auburn eyes.

My lover was there with me to see;

It’s sad to see I lost you though.

Would you have stayed if for once?

You tried to know what now I know.

This rain, these trees and all this place

Sounds damp like a drenched sal,

I hope you knew there’s more to it

I try to bury, ‘we had it all.’

Now you’d not know I miss you still

And take you to my hazy dreams,

Where world is mine and you’re a doll

I keep safe deep in my seams.


I could’ve been better with time

But closed doors and open eyes seldom have a visitor

And so do the open doors and closed eyes

I would’ve, if I could’ve been better with time.

Fragile touch of crawling sickness

Nausea in my cells has long been forgotten

As I map my skin, I dismember a lego

Disseminating my breaths in my lungs

Last place for my horrid affliction

And so my mind waits for the benediction

Which never comes even after the storming rain

All the perfumes die in the land of nod,

I could’ve been better with time

But broken mind and unbreakable heart keep,

Coming back to the final caveat

I couldn’t follow for the dubious guts.

I swear I would’ve, if I could’ve been

‘Better with time’, just a connotation

For me, a horrible line of catapults to cross

Ready to tear down my body and soul

I’ll not wait for the time

I’ll not wait on the world,

I’ll let myself dismember a lego

And sleep in the ashes once the world’s done with me.

A Place To Be

She asked, ‘where do you want to be?

‘In the place soothing your aching arms?

The place that calms your nerves?

Do you call it a home?’

‘I found my grace there,’ he said,

‘In two oceans I dived everyday,

And every night I sailed among the stars.

In the lap of the glory I slept.

There’s a place where I forgot my wars.’

‘What does it look like?’ she asked again,

‘Are there flowers? Is there rain?

Do the butterflies flutter all noon?

And eve’ falls with crickets on streams?’

‘Yes, yes,’ he replied as he dived deep inside,

‘I smelled the flowers under the shade,

And felt rain running across the soft terrain,

And I’ve seen the wings that blew all noon

And the bugs lighting up at ocean when sun went vain.’

‘What a mystical world that must be,’

She said, ‘where your heart now goes,

‘Where it rains and snows and grass grows

‘Where you must be if not here.’

‘I must be, if I could,’ he said and coughed,

The black had reached to his lungs and the heart,

Then the breath ceased like a snapped twig

And his head went back to the start.

To the start where he had met him the first,

The eyes, the ocean, the unquenchable thirst.

And in nights they would lit up like stars,

And his thighs were where he found the lost solace.

He was his home,

The one who had a world within

A world that called for eons and eons.

And everytime he died in the loop,

The frail mind led him beyond death

A place from where he borrowed his sounds

And kept searching for the soul he lost somewhere.


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.


The moon on the top of our heads

The warmth of your after-beds

The blank blankets and loveless lights

All may shiver in the snows of these nights

When I’ll take the after-mornings of your gone

And the sun of our hearts will break at the dawn

Tears will be around the garden in the dew

In a million of heaven’s, ours are a few

Will the echo of this falling star

Be one of all those fallen stars

Will the bruise on my breath be yesterday’s scar

So long as we’d gone far

Will there be a perpetual name

Stronger than mine, of grounding game

With all the tears that I’d write this one

Might disappear and we’ll have none.

Inquisitively, do you see beyond my eyes?

Of mountains and books and faces and tries

May I dive and clean your mirrors up

While world does wander tying trouble up

Put then the strength in my hands

I’ll put the power in your heart

And hope will take the dreams

To one more heart apart

Till my name be forgiven

And your heart be in spring

For all that it’s given.

A Tale of Morning

Mornings are said to be brought by that old man

Who had no faith, no hate and no hands

They say he had a tail

And the bigger teeth

And his shadow walked below

Ground the underneath

And he tolled the night

Long and neverending

He waited to pull it up

With fangs and tails and legs

And strength never spending

They say it was a long era

And millions of nights had died

And the stars were shaking

Out o’ his mighty fright

And years then rolled

And creatures not now slept

In the misty atmosphere of the shivering Earth

All Pariahs gladly wept

Mountains roared and clouds did thunder

Trees screamed in Valhalla under

And then came a golden thread

A thing of beauty unseen before

The corns were corns and fire red

Everyone was screaming in joy

The snake that came from frozen mountains

A crocodile across from farland river

A tree from the valley of nocturne fever

And the owl ocean-side

All had appeals, all had rejections

And then came hovering the second thread

The panic rose high and some of them condemned

And now the fire was yellow

And the snow was melting low

Then the third thread, then the fourth, then more

Chaos touched the peak and everyone cried

Some at beauty, some at horror

With watery eyes they looked now farer

Old man’s fangs glistened

And tail twisted, legs stepped back

Then came the burning sun

And cold was forced to be mellow

Everyone stopped and some went to sleep

At the edge of the morning some did profusely weep

And then the fangs fell

Like diamonds slithering through mist

And tail turned to a hundred petals and to melting wind

The skin then shed to dust

And came a spirit that touched a few creatures

Then the morning rose and smiled

And from those who screamed in horror and those who screamed in joy

They say we all have come from them

A Nursery

In the graveyard of stars

A shell that shrills and streaks

Hurls to the side on the large

Zens for eons, for months, for weeks

Go to the puddle the reflection of fires

Younger the dust and new wind

Forging a place for a million choirs

Xenon the silence in the new grind

Everything expands exponentially

What would wage without wonders

Dragging daunting days daily

Vivaciously varied vast vendors

Call the life and life sparks maiden

Under the graveyard, a nursery in mayhem.