, , , ,

“Okay, I’ve got to go. Mom’s calling. She has cooked roast chicken for dinner. Smelling good! What did you have?”


“What do you mean by nothing? It’s almost twelve. Will you ever learn to eat on time?!”

“Look who’s talking! I’m broke, love.”

“But.. what about the money Sid had lent you yesterday? How did you finish two thousand rupees so quickly?”

“Um, I forgot to tell you about this. Yesterday night, while returning from work, I saw some beggars sleeping on the footpath, shivering with cold. Their clothes were in tatters. It was so sad. So I bought some blankets with the same money & gave it to them. Poor people. They don’t even have proper clothes to combat the cold…”

What will I do with this boy? I let out an exasperated sigh as he went on rambling about the plight of the beggars. I wasn’t even listening to him.

The pain of the beggars mattered a lot to him, but for me, the thought of him sleeping hungry stung more. Ever since he had shifted to another city for his work, he had become careless about his health & slept on an empty stomach frequently. Yes, maybe I was blinded by my love for him. He was the most beautiful person I had ever known, after all. His kindness, generosity & his beautiful soul was what had attracted my soul to his. No, I could never be as selfless as him and that made him a much better person than me. The reason I loved him silly. But his generosity was exceeding to a quixotic level now, driving me nuts.

“…please say something. I won’t do such things henceforth,” he pleaded in a timid voice.


“Don’t you dare skip your dinner because of me. Swear on me that you’ll eat.”

I’d truly received more than what I had wished for. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Why don’t you say something? Are you angry, love?”

“Don’t you think you are a little too talkative?”

I could sense his charming crooked smile at the other end of the receiver.

“You know I can’t remain angry with you for long. But, I’m just wondering whether we would have any blankets left in our home, if I marry you,” I chuckled.

He laughed.

~ K@



, , , ,

We all have that secret side which is weak, scared, bruised and imprisoned. We all know that, no matter how hard we try to pretend to be normal, we are insane in our own sweet little ways.

We tend to be like roses, all proper and sober, whereas wildflowers are what we actually are.

We have thousand voices whispering in our heads all the time. We fail miserably and nurse our countless open wounds secretly.

We might pretend to be blissful but we are crazy and goofy in our own ways. We are absurd, weird and ridiculous in ways beyond imagination.

Yet, in our countless imperfections and numerous flaws, we are humans who have within them the gift of magic.

The words we blabber, the drawings we scribble, the atrocious things we read, the numbers we crunch, the equations we solve, the broken songs we sing and the crazy ways in which we dance, precisely make us human.

Before you cry yourself to sleep for the fact that you are insane and weird, do realize that you are insanely beautiful in your own special ways.

Realize your gifts, dear broken souls, for even birds with broken wings never give up their greatest desire, the desire to soar high into the vast blue sky.




, , , , ,

“Hello? How are you?” I ask.

“Fine, Dad,” he replies.

“We are fine, too. How are things at home? The network here is really poor. The roof was leaking last night. But I have managed to find a solution for it. Your mother misses you. When will you come?” I ask him.

“One question at a time, Dad. I even forgot what you’d asked earlier. We will come the next time I avail a holiday. This time we are going to Singapore,” he says.

“Okay. Have fun. Let me know in case I can help with anything,” I say to him like I have been saying all along.

“Yeah, yeah. Like you could,” he says and scoffs.

“Did you say anything, son?” I ask. I pretend not to be able to hear his words.

“Nothing, Dad. Goodnight,” he says and disconnects the call.

I hobble back to the room where my wife is adjusting her hearing-aid. She asks if I had a chat with my son. I nod. She asks about his well-being. I tell her that he is fine.

I read her eyes which wait for me to tell her when he’d be coming. I know that she reads in my eyes that it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

And somehow like this, we have shared twenty years together.

The next afternoon, a postman with an envelope appears on my doorstep. I adjust my spectacles as I read the address it is from. It’s from my son.

I tear it open and find money. I don’t even bother to count it.

‘For the leaking roof,’ a note reads.

I smile.

The roof in my house is just fine. Little did my son realise that I needed no envelope. All I needed was his presence.




, , , ,

While flirting with the taste of time

We forget to add spices of faith and hope,

Caramelised stones of memories

Lie bland & allis lost in stirred tea cup of dreams,

Reality becomes the dish best served when chilled

On the glass of life not well-cocktailed with love.

PAST being the light starter is usually avoided

PRESENT is a heavy sumptuous meal too much to digest

FUTURE is a dessert often too sweet to handle by the wisdom teeth,

Half- baked ideas set at 180 degrees in the pre-head oven of mind

Buttered with thoughts of gains,

Later, expectations & needs join in sautéed with greed

And egos scrambled…

Foes planting their eyes in others business rush in when smell something fishy

Poking the tooth- picks into others jaws

Instead of picking up flaws of their own!!




, , , ,

There hung a rope, tough, 

Fingers sung of pain as he held, 

Hanging off about to fall in the pit 

If he ever tried to let go. 

And he was driven to hold on 

As long as he was alive, 

Even if he wasn’t as strong 

As he thought he was. 

But, his beliefs were washed away 

With the beads of sweat 

That fell off his forehead 

Into the crypt. 

Days passed, years fled, 

And he hung with a death dread. 

One day, he knew, 

It was the end, good or bad. 

He let go, but not to be dead, 

The wire had elongated so that,

His feet were planted on the earth. 

He then knew that holding on, 

Was a good thing;

But also that letting go,

In the right time mattered too…




, , , ,

Her craved groans would cast a chill

down her spine and unleash her will,

yet as I kissed her peachy fruit,

she peaked like the heavens broke loose,

for what worth bears a queen if she rides

And gleams like anything but a queen.

Sloppy she rode ‘til her sacred mystique did ooze

the wine unsavoury, which fell like a blessing

to the destined lips.

Ah, love, give me a silent summer kiss.

Her aroma is paralysing

for the senses, so I walk away to

the new born sun with a taste of her lips

still on my tongue, her scent in my clothes.

For all a heart wants is a sacred cloaked touch

but the coveted memory of her touch eclipses

whatever follows her trail,

beyond the stretch of fantasia.

She awakes a lust to revisit what

almost untwines her knots masked

by a warm breath, but I would rather clutch

the untouched corners of her heart

which prison a lust so vicious,

I retrace the steps away from her bed and her

to deny the whims of the morning whilst

the moments stir and worship the lust

which may last and tease

for another beautiful forever,

for she lusts for the thrusts

and the ecstatic flare without a seed,

to remember the night,

for she’s smiling in her sleep.



Hello Everyone, I hope that you enjoyed the second and the final installment of this poem given here above…

And if you still haven’t yet read the first part yet, here’s the link👇:

One Wild Night🌃❤😉 (Part-I)

ONE WILD NIGHT!!🌃❤😉 (Part-I)


, , , ,

As thy skies unpeel the morning lights on her, I see

her stripped elegance masked by the morning dew

which so elegantly cups her golden-silvery innocence,

but I’ve seen the few moments of her intense wild

which unveil the goddess that lurks amongst

the evil waters she drowned me in,

the bosoms of heaven she boasted off whilst

I spent eternities caressing her peachy peach,

cloven by the roots of Belteshazzar.

I summon her love as she screams

to visit the almost unfelt moist stings

whilst she impossibly dreams

of the pleasures undefined,

I look for words to take her to bliss

but no touch so passionate would do,

neither a thrust so vigorous

but a silent summer kiss

on her neck and so she closed her eyes

and she moaned savagely.

Ah, love, you just peaked.

She would smoke and she would bite

and so the graves would stir,

for to arouse the forgotten

and the insatiable dead,

she need not moan….. 

(To be continued…😉)




, , , , ,

I Like You.

Right here, is the bare truth.

And I am done.

I am done acting like it’s okay when it’s not.
I am done talking to you, aching for you to understand me and you pretending like it’s just a normal conversation. I am done trying to pretend like it’s okay to let this go, even without trying.

Because you know what? 

We’ve been so trapped in all these social mazes. Pathways that restrict you to talk about EXACTLY what’s going on inside you. These sly bastards of protocols just making you tweak the words, not look at someone you like too much, not let them know how much you feel, when you just want to do all of the above. And that too, a lot.

We’ve forgotten how utterly freeing honesty can be. When you just walk up to someone who vibes with your heart to tell them that, “Hey, I may not know you, but I want to. Because somehow my soul feels a little more welcome around you, a little more alive.

But we won’t. We don’t.

We’ll hide. 

We’ll play chase. 

We’ll go “You have to want me first for me to want you.” Or. “If you invest this much in me, I’ll invest equally.” 

We stomp upon our hearts, we lie awake thinking why we feel this way, why we feel so much.

God, we are so afraid.
We are so afraid to get hurt. We are so afraid of pain. 

And that’s exactly why we push away from anything that kicks us off our comfort. 

We want to fall in love but we don’t want to give it all. 

We want to kiss till 4 a.m. but don’t want to bare our hearts. 

We want to look into each other’s eyes but not embrace the demons and fears lurking in their depths.
Ah, but what if I want to just come to you and tell you that I love you? 

That I don’t give two fucks about these idiotic rules. 

That on a planet with feeling beings, trying not to feel is just so wasted. 

That I’d like to give us a chance. A fair chance.

And I don’t mean half-hearted promises. I mean the kind of words that are followed by actions to cement them into time and space.
So would you?

Would you allow me in, 



It is the fifth day since I last slept, and I cannot construct one coherent sentence out of my cerebral capacity.My mom had called me yesterday. I was still frisking the air for words when she hung up. The phone had rung thrice. I remember.

My room smells of gore and puke. Lover sits before me – immobile – his eyes upturned, half-open, like a door left ajar, unsure if he wants to let go of his thinning hold on this pretty world.

I remember it was last Monday that lover told me about a girl who had caught his fancy. He said he wanted an escape. I had spent days crying and begging for him to stay. But he left.

That girl lies dead, next to him, in my room.

Lover sits here before me, a splinter jutting from his mangled neck. It had gloriously spurted arterial blood when I shoved a broken bottle down his throat.

Lover had always had a thing for empty bottles.

I pick up my phone and text: “Hey mom! It’s a lovely day here. I’ll go out and have some wine today. Love.”

Lover is staring at me. His gaze, I tell you!— He always gave me butterflies in the stomach with that gaze of his.

I smile.

“I love you,” I whisper, gently slitting his wrists, “forever. ”

I kiss his gnarled lip. I think I can sleep now.



Being single is hard; not because you need someone to lean on, someone to love, someone who would love you, but because how much people around you try to make you realise that you better find someone soon or you’ll end up alone.

When you’re single, there’ll be so many times that you’ll hear phrases like, “Give it a shot!”, “He really likes you, at least give him a chance!”, “You know, if you never try, you’ll never know”.

And after a while, you start to get annoyed because they don’t understand. They don’t understand that you are happy this way, that you don’t want to ‘give it a shot’ only to find some happiness that, of course, will be short lived.

And this is because often when you start getting into relationships just for the sake of being in one, you start failing at them. What results is a series of mishaps, a long string of failed relationships, and in the end, the false realisation that there is something wrong with you; that you drive people away; that you’ll never be good enough for anyone to stay.

And someday, you’ll find someone who treats you better than the people you’ve been with before, and you’ll settle for him/her, convinced that you’ve finally found the right one for yourself.

It’s a rather confusing procedure, isn’t it?

Stop, I say.

Stop chasing love. Stop settling for what you get based on comparisons. You deserve so much more than what you’ve settled for. You’re worth so much more.

Start loving yourself, and love yourself so much that you don’t need anybody else’s love. Stop needing someone to love you and tell you how wonderful you are. You’re amazing enough, stop needing someone to validate your existence.

Love will find you in its own sweet time. And when it finally does, you’ll know what you’ve saved yourself for, all this time.

And I promise it will be totally worth it.

Till then, just have the hope of finding the love that you truly deserve, and that will be enough to make you happy throughout all the days.