क़ैद करलो इन ख़्यालों को
लफ़्ज़ों के जाल में
न जाने किसकी उड़ान की
वजह बन जायें

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प्यार पे काम
करते करते
न प्यार रहा
न काम हुआ

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people stayed.
So why did I think
I needed to go everywhere
when anywhere might be
just as good.

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Friday evenings be the sole reason to get up on Monday mornings.

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Like a repeating non-terminating decimal

Like a clock with weak cells

Like an omelette on a pan with worn off Teflon coating

Like a second-year engineering student

Like a greasy stain on a white shirt Tide and Surf can’t erase

Like a guest with no acquaintances at a wedding with crappy food

Like a happy person wanting to dance when everyone else starts sharing sob stories after getting too drunk

I feel stuck

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An ant in a water droplet,
surface tension like glue

Tongue fights hard and surrenders,
popcorn I can’t chew

Sweaty palms and fidgety feet,
an applicant for an interview

Drinking too bad tea-bag tea,
employee denied so much as a brew

Looking at cars speeding on the other side,
steering like jail bars; nothing new

Only in half the love confessed,
love turning from red to blue

No dearth of ideas or rhyming words,
but a meaningful end — got no clue

I feel stuck

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Maggie’s Farm:
A short story

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घर छोड़ कर तुम गए
और बेघर हम हो गए ।

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‘Bura na maano, Holi hai’
is a lot like
‘l don’t mean to offend you but...’

If your wish needs to carry a disclaimer, it probably is what you insist it is not.

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Love in the Time of Bloodless Nights:
A short story

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