Are you really hurt,
Because I hurt you,
Or it's because I am hurt,
And this is a good time,
For you to be hurt too?

Tell me if it really hurts,
Once you are done crying,
The tears have dried in your eyes.
The blood has become warm
And your body feels resigned.

Would it still hurt,
When there is no one to scream at,
No one else to hold on to,
Nothing more to crib out,
No one else to listen to you.

It looks like you are building,
A recipe for melancholy
At 1 AM in the night,
A sad book, an old song,
A box of issues is kept ready too.

Tell me really,
Have you been hurt,
Or you have been wanting,
To feel hurt,
And then go about telling people,
That I hurt you?

-

I am the nib
Of a ball point pen
You put too much pressure on
When you didn't know a single answer
In your seventh grade examination.
The nib broke on the answer sheet,
And you discarded the pen.

I am the sweet,
They sold for the quarter of a rupee,
And you stood in line for,
Until the fancy shop opened,
Selling twenty five rupee ice creams,
Of a hundred different flavors.
Today, you don't even remember me.

I am the story book,
Your mother read to you,
Every night, before you went to bed.
Until your dad brought,
The fancy audio book,
From the big city.
You left me in the bookshelf corner.

I am writing back to you,
With the broken nib,
Inviting you to come back and visit
The old sweet shop,
Take me with you to the fancy cafe,
And read me, as you sip your coffee.

I am your childhood,
Calling back to you.

-

It is thirty degrees outside and I wake up with a shiver in my body.
I might have fallen asleep while working,
I think.
But what is it that makes me feel so chilly?
In this hot winter afternoon.

I am back again with my best friends.
People are laughing. We are on our way to get some good food.
Speedbreaker. We didn't see it.
The car comes to a halt suddenly.
We are all startled.
What if it was, something worse?

Funny how a moment of misery,
Can take over hours of jolly-good times.

Its our first cold winter morning date.
Your scent, it's intoxicating.
There is something important you say you want to tell me.
I am all ears.
What you say, I don't remember.
There is silence, as I wake up in my head.
This time, feeling warm, despite eight degrees outside.

I am happy, in my head.
There is so much to look out, afterall.
But then, there is this sudden twitch.
In the back of my body.
Corner of my eye.


It tells me,
I am going to wake up soon.
We will hit a bumper soon.
I will again, not remember.
This.
What it means to be happy.
This.

-

कुछ लिखा है आज, तुम्हारी याद में,
कोई शाम मिले, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।
एक अरसे से दिल को रोक रखा है,
कभी जाम मिलें, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।

कुछ बातों को याद करके मन में रखा है,
कभी बात चले, तो तुम्हे बताऊं,
कुछ सपने देख रहा हूं, आंखें खोल कर,
किसी रात मिलो, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।

कुछ खुशियों को बांटना तुम्हारे साथ है,
जब दुख छट जाए, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।
कुछ यादें है, जिन्हें भूल रहा हूं,
फिर याद दिलाओ, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।

क्यूं आज लिख रहा हूं, फिर तुम्हारे लिए,
बस एक बार पूछो, तो तुम्हे बताऊं।
तुम ना भी पूछो, और ना ही समझो,
फिर भी मैं सब कुछ, बस तुम्हे बताऊं।

-

Tirelessly,
I scroll through my phone screen,
It's a good thing afterall,
That phones don't give,
Paper cuts.

We haven't been together in a while,
So I couldn't find you,
Until,
Some 13,682 pictures later,
In my gallery.

There you are,
Smiling back at me,
Finally, our eyes meet.
I close my eyes,
It's time to fall asleep.

//How to sleep on difficult nights

-

I am turning in my bed,
Writing poems about you.
You are up, wide awake.
Thinking about ciggarates,
And some questions about love.
We don't talk.

The clock strikes two.
I am falling in love,
Would you fall for me too?

//Full piece in the caption

-

Because poetry is not a dead art-
But one difficult to master,
Which is why this generation-
Of clickbaits and microtales,
Finds it too committal.
And the intellectuals who read novels,
And non-fiction,
Dismiss it as insignificant.

//FULL PIECE IN CAPTION

-

I tell you, I have knowingly been hiding,
My poems from you.
They aren't good enough,
I think. And I am not sure,
If constructive criticism is really your forte,
In my head, I sneer,
At the subtelety of my remark.

//Full Piece In Caption

-

Happy people, see the orange in sunsets,
People like us see black and white.
Happy people laugh out loud,
People like us, often breathe sighs.

Happy people, they like going out.
People like us, we stay inside.
Happy people like counting stars,
People like us, prefer clear skies.

Happy people, count their blessings,
People like us, find faults in life.
Happy people, stand for themselves.
People like us, fall a little behind.

Happy people, they sleep peacefully,
People like us, stay up all night.
Happy people, are written about.
People like us, are the ones to write.

-

Stuck at home I am thinking,
Is love really found in places?
I mean,
If you ask me today,
there is really five places I would rather be
If not home.

//Full Piece In Caption

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