But I have been escaping long enough,
now, I wish to belong.

-

Clouds cloaked the moon
and shrieked with thunder
as he lay dying in the shadow
of that humongous banyan tree.
Don't take him in they said,
this weather is a bad omen.
I sheltered him under my roof,
sliced my heart open, a fruit ripe
and ready to feed his hungry mouth.
I told him I would heal his wounds
even if it meant spilling my own blood
but when I returned with needle & thread, I caught him pouring
death into my untouched cup.
'Surely,' said I, 'you know more brutal ways of murder. Isn't poison
an easy choice of weapon?'
He pulled out an assortment of
daggers forged in fire, a knife of ice
and a long sharpened rock
tucked carefully inside his socks.
'My love,' he said, 'the choice is yours.'
In the early hours of dawn
before darkness meets light,
the banyan tree still shrieks.

-

They said it was
really my own fault
and that I should've
known better than to
open my wounds
in a city of salt.

-

They say there are plenty of fish in the sea,
But you my darling are the WHOLE damn ocean.
With eyes so brown......I drown.

-

इसे खौफ समझने की भुल न करना
जनाब, हम अपनी मर्ज़ी के मालिक है
लफ्ज़ और वक्त उनही पर ज़ाया करते हैं ,
जो हमारी ख़ामोशी के लायक ना हो.

-

ए ज़िंदगी ये कैसी कशमकश है तेरी?
हम भी अपनी जगह सही है,
वो भी अपनी जगह गलत नहीं...

-

No one knows how many lights
lay buried inside its roads
this town rebuilds itself
each time disaster hits.
No one knows how much time
passes to reconstruct each damage
this town has learnt proficiently
not to confide its secrets.
No one knows how it has fallen
deep in the shackles of debt
it has fallen short of words,
this town is under repair.

-

Last night,
I sold my slumber
in the placid market of passion
afterall it's difficult falling asleep
only to watch a stranger
plunder my dreams.
Last night,
I sold my slumber
to a gentleman who locked it
inside his enormous treasury,
and labelled it in a sloppy hand
'Fragile, handle with care'.

-

Hope must not be silent.
She must roar, and bite, run wild
She must let her blood heat up
boil, bubble and froth in anger
coursing through her veins
displaying the calmest and
composed form of outrage.
Hope must not be silent.
She must scream, raise her voice
She must shout, create a scene
turn her tongue into a weapon
and demand impatiently
what is rightfully hers : Justice.
Hope must not be silent.
She must have enough conscience
to respect the victim's personal grief,
and remain strictly devoted
for only one religion : Humanity.
She must stand tirelessly against
the most heinous of crimes
and vanquish hate, for in the end,
Truth will prevail.

-

What if it's not what we think?
What if we were born to
live a reckless chaotic life
devoid of fearing the divine.
What if we could accept
and love our very evident flaws
instead of continuing this pretence,
of people pleasing perfectionism.
What if the meaning of life
was to keep wandering endlessly
and reach the place we really belong
rather than settle for the mundane
in search of fame and fortune.
What if the real goal is
to forgive our own mistakes
and fade into forever
leaving no time for regrets.

-