options

today, when i cecked my mail-box i found one interesting forward. it was about priorities of life and options i had are...
1. work
2. family
3. friends
4. money
5. love life

... and one long SWOT analysis about that. well i'm still to get it all, man!!!! this B-school thing sometimes make me feel i myself is a part of life's sense of humor. things are so arbit, so random... why do we make a simple logical thing in some theories and jargon.

i give you, death a chance to come alone,
Find your victim
our dreams in faded night sky nights.
i'm dying for a while,
catch me.
they say you are death...

its funny,
you are hidding

take me or i take you,
die oh! death
winds are howling,

run away
my nights are lost in lights
and few eyes.


(my moment of eternity... and estacy)

If u forget me

If u forget me/ Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon,
at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,were little boatsthat sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decideto leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flowerclimbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

thoughts....

i asked myself. Why the hell i write? what i get out it?

then i thought of a day when i'm not writing, and the reason for that.... I'm dead. to me the best thing is to think... its as simple as to me as sleeping (sometime with someone). but things are still hazy, why do i write. its not love poems or some great comedy, it just like me another one in billion. probably that loneliness inside, while sitting with demi-gods makes me write.

i love to be alone but not in a crowd... but i'm pretty happy. atleast people dont pretend to be in love with me. its good to be ignored, atleast for me. i get my space, my time....my words and sometimes me.
I write to me.

dedicated to myself.

(today i'm not drunk!!! i'm just out of love)

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost (1874–1963)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

away from love

Revelation of Paradise

I wonder about the fairytales,
The refusal of eyelids
And yet all images bypass this completion,
Nails pierce through
The last piece of rib
To the mad fragmented valley,
And still further,
Where all day it rains.

Conversations of God,
The conspiracies of sin,
The prayerbells down below.
I can hear everything;
That’s no fantasy
From night skies,
I live invisible
In passing hands of time.

i'm not in sleep, i'm in luv

those are not my words, actually a friend of mine recently realized that she is in love. now my question is what is love? do we really need it that much? may be yes may be no....

blind corners of circles,
and few turns in the cross road,
there are flickers and flames
and we pretend to be in love,

lets walk a bit more,
and have a little conversation,
i promise we wont fall in love,

till our are in sleep.

fireballs and broken glass

its almost 3:30am and i dont really have any clue about what i did whole day. eat, sleep and classes...thats it? a i all about this or do i need to look beyond my dimeshions....

seems like i am already drunk (yeah! four down) and 84mm of fire hanging between the lips, i wanna sing, i wanna dance.... i wanna sleep.

sleep, sleep and a bit more sleep
tell me why?
let stay awake and watch,
fireballs making love to molten glasses of intoxication.

sleep, sleep, sleep with your one eye open,
may you need see only the other side of your dream.

...three dots and a poetry of expectaion

last post was on july. What took me so long to write few lines, may i did't wanted or may i was lost in those few lines. whatever may be the reason, I am getting back to myself. honestly speaking during these few months I was learning a process called life.

a bit of love,
some drops of pain,
flashes of inspiration,
friends,
glitters and stars,
and a conversetion with myself.

I hope from today I will try to post atleast once a day and share the randomness of the omnipresent process called life and the urge to move...Dreams.

Mystic Riders

I wanted to become a wish maker … like one of those mystic men from my childhood. I had no hope of saving my life, I admit it; I am the greatest fear for my own self….The coolie in a sun-bleached shirt, showed me the platform where the train will arrive and then asked, “Need some hand? It only stands here a minute.”“I will manage on my own.” Luggage was not the problem; I was carrying few cloths and my camera in a rucksack. The train grounds to a halt and buffers clanked. Suddenly the whole platform became alive, as if it was sleeping till now. Suitcases began magically appearing on the platform. I stepped inquiringly inside the train, although I am used to partings and reunions I felt someone I knew was standing on platform. Aloofly the dusty carriages set off in some unknown direction.So there it was, seat number 27, upper berth. With all those last night farewell parties, the only thing I wanted to do was grab my place and sleep….“Watch out, mister, there’s something breakable here…” So I was still there … no river, no trees, not even a scribbled line of poetry…. The whole compartment seems to be in complete chaos, it seemed end of the world was at hand. Passengers of all ages, making friendly comments: “how about a cup of tea?” “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Some with “maybe, you could find place to put them?” And few “why, of course!!!” and “why haven’t you ever thought of this before?”Excellent!!! The whole place seems to be like an aquarium full multi-colored magical strokes of humanity. Yes, one thing was sure, there was everything except water… and certainly enough sand for a shifting sand dune. By noon the wind would be scorching hot and there would not be a patch of shade anywhere. In weather and surroundings like these, it’s simply essential for me to be able to sit by water and see some greenery.“There’s a half-desert.” The two little girls traveling next to me were having an argument about whether there’s a real desert on the way. “A what?” Poor little girls were pretty confused with my curiosity and ignorance answered me “a real desert with mirages, sand-dunes, camels and real spiders.” Well!! I realized the motto of the geography textbooks taught in schools ‘confuse a person if you can’t convince’. The older one jumped from her window seat “see that?” Miles and miles of sands, “its quite common in these part of the country,” I replied in a nonchalant tone. “No, you are wrong… take a better look.” An ordinary looking bush with leaves was poking through the surface. That little girl determined to help me with my geography continued, “There’s something growing in it.”“Come here now…” their mother called them impatiently. That little girl looked at me “that’s the only thing that can stop shifting sand, I think you will finds few more on way.” Ok!! Good-bye and thank you. Now, I have this window all for myself. I stared with great respect at those remarkable desert bushes whose miserable looking branches were growing…. Growing to tell stories that intertwine us along those millions of sand grains shifting from place to place. There are stories, too many, to reveal secrets… stories about things seen differently. With jostling of the improbabilities inside me I can see repetitions and beginning of remaking of my life…

What Next....?

What next? People keep on asking me, everyone have a comment or some advice to give. I wonder.When we set targets or goals, don’t we limit ourselves? Probably I am right or may be wrong, but my voices behind the gray walls won’t accept the limitations… I will scream. At nineteen I lost The Paradise and honestly speaking I am regaining it every moment till today. I would prefer to be pickled in some old jar rather being intellectually and emotionally molested by a someone whose only intoxication is climbing a never ending ladder and fantasize to sleep up there with some ‘childhood sweetheart’.Have we ever wondered to think about those lost moments of laughter, days of being carefree… the days of childhood? I understand we grow up and things change, but at the cost of our own self? That green endless ladder might be justified truth and we might need to sleep with someone having a distorted mask over his or her face, just to reach there.Someone once told me that cats have nine life and we human only one….

Paradise lost and regained.
Back aroundIn the full circle,
Over the back benches of heath,
I thought, I had a vision,
But, a ‘thank you’ to myself,
I am still an atheist.
It feels cold,
But, that’s not significant
When black holes explodes,
And twisted hands let me fall
Over the uniformed black,
All I can just fancy;
A dramatic realization.
The wild ideas
The seeds of tiny irregularities,
Falling over the flap of mattress
As if it’s all instructed,
I scarcely know how we got through the day,
Everything absurdly limited.
Don’t pretend to look at the picture
It’s a betrayal.

Memories of Lost Night

Miles away from civilization in complete hibernation, she looked at me “ you haven’t changed a bit and I think this is the last cup of coffee we can get here”.
“I wish I could say the same things for you Tania ” and I wanted to say many more things to her, “ dad is calling you… come fast” the sudden unexpected pitch of words almost shattered the silence in the horizon. She looked towards the little girl probably three or four years old and then towards me “ see you at dinner table”. I felt a complete void inside my head, it seemed my head is going to explode, “sure” all I could say and looked at that little girl. I don’t know why but I was feeling jealous.
Silence again, it’s been almost six years we have met. Now I am thirty-one having a family to look after, probably I have everything people look for at this age. I hurriedly finished my coffee and lit another cigarette. I looked at the flickering flame between my lips, third one in last half an hour.
“You should cut down on your smoke or else I will make sure you don’t get your pocket money next month” Tania snatched the cigarette from my lips and threw it outside the classroom window. That was the first time we fought and that was almost eleven years back, probably things haven’t still changed. I threw off my cigarette, I think at this age I should seriously think about quitting cigarette. Probably I can do it now and tell her about it, tomorrow it’s her birthday and it will really make her happy. I opened my bag to get the cigarette packs, rather than throwing those two dozen packs that I always carry with me I can give them to people stuck out here at this odd place.
With those odd dozen packs my old diary flipped out of the bag and lost memories that are hard to erase. I turned the pages; it’s been blank for few days. I flipped few more pages in a futile effort to find something and all I got was an old card, six yeas old invitation card, for the marriage of my friend Tania. Of course, I knew about this, but then it seemed like an unknown and uncertain event. but now holding the card in my hands, it suddenly dawned on me that the girl I my self wanted to marry was now married to someone else.
i and Tania had been friends since our college days. being in the same circle of friends, going to the same parties, and hanging out at the same joints. Still we were poles apart, i was into rock and she was into country music. While I was a introvert kind which I am still, she had a huge social circle and was always the centre of attraction. However as they say opposite attracts this seemingly incompatibility, only brought us closer. And still not sure, but I think I fell in love with her.
As I put down the card, a rush of memories flooded my head. How, when we were studying together for university exams, she had said “do you want to tell me something?”. i should have told her then and there. the day when we were sitting on the terrace looking at the moonlight night and she had asked, ‘you are thinking about something?’, i should have told what i was thinking. the day i went away to US, i had my chances. The day she she asked me “why don’t you marry me?” but i didn’t say a word.
I don’t know why but I reached her place almost a month before her marriage, taking responsibilities, doing things like helping her with shopping, After all my best friend was getting married, and i was happy for her. But deep within I wanted things in different way. Probably it was a week after I was there, I was feeling restless. I sat beside the window looking at the stars in that clear night sky; both of us had our favorite stars out there and together we used to share our joy and sorrow with them.
Suddenly Tania entered the room “ I thought you are sleeping, what are you doing out there near the window?” I looked at her, I wanted to tell her everything but something stopped me “ I was just looking at our stars, how come you are out here?” “Nothing” all she could say, then “ don’t you think want to tell me something?” I could feel those moist eyes of hers. Without looking at her “ just feeling lonely” I said, she sat beside me “ don’t worry I am there for you”. Now almost ignoring her I said “ don’t you know you are getting married?” “Damm it, then why don’t you marry me?” she looked straight into my eyes and ran out of the room.
Next day I packed my bag and left her place, when asked about the reason of my sudden departure I told her that my girl friend is not well and she needs me beside her.
That was almost six years ago and I was still a bachelor. I looked towards the sky. “ Feeling lonely again?” Tania tapped me from behind. “Who told you that?” I asked her, she smiled “remember the old days, I still share my joys and sorrows with you through those stars… everyday single day”. As she left the place I looked at her moist eyes once and then towards the stars.
Late night when I tried to find her an old lady told me that she left with a little girl and a man. Feeling a bit disgusted and betrayed I told her “ today it’s her birthday, I thought of wishing her”. Looking a bit sad the old lady murmured, “ Miss. Tania was so nice…” I answered her back “ I think its Mrs. Tania”, old lady jumped back “ no, no… she never got married, poor thing still waits for god knows. I hope she will some day come to senses”.
I looked up towards the sky, I couldn’t find the stars. The sky was covered with clouds, I felt as if I am tied to this gloomy place for forever.

Re-birth....

frist a big welcome to myself....and thanx to that guy who hacked my blog http://winterdepths.blogspot.com

rit now i have nothing new happening in life so wait for few days for the resurrection...till then a copy paste of an old post

Am I There?

Am I there or is it my shadow?
Huddled inside the obscene depths,
Last time saw them
Their eyes were empty,
Floating in the mist of void
Staring back from the glass window,
And at night one see twisted shadows
That crawls over the brick walls.
There were many at that lonely palace,
Where one little hills met thousands of plains.
The wind cried low over the winter sky,
I have not heard any…The ceased noises of some sudden flame,
And our silence keeps on piling upOver the solitude of brick walls,
I shut the door in fear of that barren landI pretend of dreams…
I am not there,
I am happy behind the depths of brick walls.


Twenty-five years of self- analysis and brooding over the annual statistics, that regulates every inch round and around us. And always ending up at lowest lines of the society, probably sending relationships to the other side of the moon. Fortunately there is always someone to walk with…. I screamed silently. Probably I was growing to become half-moon or probably into a falcate stiletto to cut all those inheritance whenever their authority challenged me. I was growing into a feathered many-headed monster. Twenty-four years back everyone was waiting for a future inside my mother’s womb, and one night I arrived. Sometimes I feel, that my arrival was a forced one. A future that no one expected.... So here I am with mariners in the middle of nowhere and some natives of ‘Lotus Land’ my story moves….