Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Bleeding borders

Grip your guns, keep your eyes on the horizon,
Do not look at the sunset, the enemy's around.
Wipe the dust on the barrel, for its time now,
We are either going to live or die tonight!
Either ways these sands will be soaked in blood.
Stand aside or hold my arms, make your call,
If the bullet's got my name on it, I shall fall...
And when you get on that train, to go home again,
Take these letters for my girl, wipe the stains -
Before you hand them to her, take some flowers...
If you can - and tell her that I remembered her,
Even when the last day was on, even when I died.
And her smiles were with me, even when I cried.
That the dreams of the kids would have to wait!
Till next time around when my gun wouldn't miss.
And that in the end all I missed was her kiss.
Here they come in hundreds, like arrows in the sky,
Look at Simon in the trench, do not let him cry...
For we are men, men in arms, men who live to die!
Hand me another gun, stay with me, stay low!
And when they ask you to run, just do not go.
All our men are spreading thin, so few of us,
Will we last till dawn? will we last till dusk?
What is it? Why are you bleeding from your head?
Whatever it is, just stay and don't be dead!
Don't close your eyes, we can make it together,
Like we did that September, if you remember...
Don't fall so soon! Hold your gun! Don't let go!
Where are your letters, hand them over to me,
I shall take them across these bleeding borders,
I shall tell your girl that you remembered her...


Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Living around the sun

Tripping over my footsteps,
I become one once again
With destiny and death -
Or dreams of the same.
Light hearted commemorations,
Single headed celebrations,
Pretensions underneath -
The tailed silky coats.
Heavy with conspiracy,
That the planets whisper.
One more time, I leap,
Into the past in dreams.
Its harder than it seems -
Or easier - say whatever!
Hold me tight, let me go,
Torn shoes, neat caps,
We together in laps,
Around the sun - as one,
Living, waiting, living,
Sandalwood or teak,
We wouldn't know.


Sunday, November 12, 2006

The warrior within me

He strikes back hard every time I try to put him down,
The more I think I got him, the stronger he gets on...
Just a pawn, just a piece, just another roll of the dice,
A slip, a fall, a fantasy! Oh! But I can't beat him still.
There's a war inside my head, me and him - again,
And yet again he wins. To spin a story or a song -
To die before too long, or to live on till eternity,
Questions that he asks, questions that have answers
That he alone can tell. The warrior within me...
He hasn't slept a day... not since I've lived.
Sometimes I fail, sometimes I cry - and laugh.
Sometimes I just look back at him in awe.
And he stands tall, speaking but in whispers...
For me to know that I might lose the war,
I might wander off with Alice - once in a while,
And while I am off tumbling down the rabbit hole -
Finding my way home... The warrior carries on.


Thursday, November 2, 2006

Free falls ain't free

Free falls aren't free anymore,
Or lest so it is argued often...
I missed a step so long ago -
In time, in space, in memories,
And yet I didn't end up there,
In the dark labyrinths of hope,
Where childhood stories told -
Of giant monsters and gargoyles.
Answers I have none and questions -
So many! I lost count long ago,
But there is something that...
I wonder, perhaps we hang on -
To a cobweb spun out of love,
Of courage and of timeless dreams.
It would be long before I fall,
Even if I miss some steps again,
Surprises I guess would go on -
To be pleasant, like a breeze,
Or a drizzle for us to dance...
There is but just a reason so,
That to smile and bring smiles,
Or if you really want to fall,
The ticket's after a long queue!


Friday, October 27, 2006

I wait

Sometimes when I don't feel my hands in the dark,
When I can't hear my whispers or my footsteps...
For I haven't spoken all these years nor moved...
I get scared of the thought of my own voices...
As they get louder in my head, the silence around
Gets deeper, as if it would be only embrace for me.
The darkness within engulfing any hope of light -
I am not taken by surprise for it comes slow...
With moments replete with reflections and thoughts...
Realizations, acceptance. I surrender to myself
I cannot see my feet any more, they lie there
Never daring to move. I cannot feel my hands...
I just wait for the moment when I won't feel myself.


Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The miracle of trickling drops

When the mind plays tricks
With the hushed notes
Of reality. When the past
Stares through the dark...
Where the silent noises
Offer no peace anymore.
I call up on a miracle...
That trickling drops
Bring forth. The magic
To fade into the night...
Like a shadow in the rain.


She danced

Stepping forth in silence,
With the music in her mind,
She lifted her skirt so slight,
To see how the anklets looked.
For they were given with love;
Maybe more but then what does
A callous mind in love know!
To swirl with a slow twirl,
To step back and slope against -
Just air!? Or is it a feeling
That carries her around tonight,
She's floating by space and time.
She could hear the drums already,
Oh she tapped her feet with them.
And the strings! A sweet flute...
So she glided across the floor,
Her hair falling behind her,
As if daring to catch up with -
The feelings fusing in the air.
The zyme of desires setting in,
So fast sometimes and so slow -
Like with the upturns of beats,
And the spaces between octaves,
Just when she could hear herself -
Breath. Smile. Blush. Laugh!
Tonight something was so right,
She felt like she's lived it,
She began years ago from zilch,
Tonight with infinity she dances...


Friday, October 13, 2006

Sunshine is just an illusion

Tapping sounds of bare feet,
Rustling against dry leaves -
Of the moments that once were.
Riddles woven in whispers,
Spoken up in reckless tones -
Silence cannot be more desired,
Than on a Sunday afternoon,
When memories play games -
Stranger than you've known.
Thoughts of gone by days,
Wrap around my fingers,
A slight shivering expression.
And my suntanned feet,
Look back at me, surprised,
For I rarely lay them still.
And here I was, reclining,
Both in the chair and in time,
Trying to recover lost hope,
Then as the sun went down,
And as the dusk approached,
A certain realization dawned -
Up on me, out of the breeze,
That sunshine is nothing but,
Just an illusion. An aftermath -
Of a nightful of passing dreams.


Sunday, October 8, 2006

No more fallen angels

The light won't go out on me,
I wish that everyday. It won't.
Flying fears have touched me,
Like a vampire's dark wings,
And still I stand right here,
Like an angel meant to fall,
But one that never will...
I have seen the black nights,
Now with you I have a day,
Sunny afternoons and rains,
I will not give up on that,
Let the storms come on to me,
Let the world rise against,
But the light that I carry -
In my heart shall light on,
I have a flower in my palms,
To hold dear and live with,
The candles of my heart -
And a thousand prayers go out,
To make life what it is,
There is nothing I can lose,
As long as you walk around
My dreams, my life and me...
An angel to fall will not -
Fall again for now its our
Day - To fly and to smile.


Thursday, October 5, 2006

I begin where dreams fade away

Shed some light on your dreams,
Tell me of your wildest fantasies!
You might find it hard to realize -
Those blurred images into reality.
But for me it is just a daily sprint,
From the fringes of my imagination
To the smiles of my dusk silhouette!
I am not a fading image of the past,
I am the rising truth of your future,
The song that you've always loved
To sing under the surreal tones
Of noisy consciousness or more.
Like the consummation of sudden
Hope. I live within your desires
I am not a fleeting glimpse of
Happy times. I am the vigor that
You have aspired every day.
I am not a lapse of your senses,
Nor am I a shrivelling assurance...
I am the temptation of possibility,
I begin where dreams fade away...


Monday, September 25, 2006

The happy revolt

Tapping feet and twisting fates ,
Could meet up in strange places.
When the drifting breezes flow,
Over the shining yellow daffodils,
A smile catches the eyes of time,
And life rushes to catch a glimpse -
Of life being born again in a dream.
Remnants of sweet memories,
Looking out of old photo frames -
Recently cleaned with a cotton cloth
And love. A little jumping thought
On its little fleeted wings of joy,
Calls upon others of its kinds,
Colored in red and green silks.
For now they riot and revolt -
Smiles taking over all the tears.


Saturday, September 23, 2006

Not just confounded

Can I light up the world with a thought?
Colored or grey shaded in fragile curves,
Meandering across the landscape of -
The mirage that envelopes my fingers,
When I move them over your reflection,
Stuttering over the dark flight of steps,
That run through imaginative whispers.
Or were they really spoken sometime?
When your subtle expressions belied,
The things that you said in loud tones.
I for once was not just confounded...
I was lost in the murmurs of sanity.


Tuesday, September 12, 2006

We, the crazy people

We - little blots of ink on paper,
Spreading our hues across
The pages of time and space,
Saying unsaid words again.
We - voices in your head,
Resonating from within you,
Bringing reason to rhyme,
We - the dots of the I's
Wonder put in brief stanzas,
Surprises in little boxes,
We - crazy people all alive.
Set to change the world,
Make it different if we can,
Better, at any given day.
Drooping hems of life,
Sullen with enthusiasm,
We - ready to explode today,
Walk in harmony with chaos,
To live beyond just life,
To laugh beyond giggles,
We are here to float away,
We - crazy ones as they say.


Friday, September 8, 2006


Touched again with not so subtle intentions,
With my shadows once again tread upon,
I walk with shaking steps into my tomorrow,
I would have shuddered but I am too stiff...
Subdued till my imagination, I still breathe,
Once again they weave fear into my skin.
With blades that were made to tear flesh -
They tear into my soul and I am consumed.
Nothing is left to assumption, nothing at all,
Every bit of my story comes bare to me,
In gruesome details of stained glass shards,
Torn satin dresses and a bleeding life-form...
They are reckless with not just my body,
I am expended. Barely alive, I am mitigated.

- Anubhav

Monday, September 4, 2006

The undying spirit

Rapids and waterfalls in my thoughts,
Splash against my will with great forces.
To shake me was never so easy...
And to make me crumble in a heap.
Small prints and annotations to hope -
Are no more privy to just the destitute,
They are for common men like us too.
And we wrap our naked helplessness -
In the mirages of hope draped across -
The heaving bosoms of undying spirits.


Things denied

What if I just say no? What if I just deny?
What if I learn to walk while you learn to fly?
In a dragon fly's wings I saw the failing truth,
Long ago when I could swim through dreams.
And my teeming spirits climbed the cliffs,
That you had set with your silent eyes alone.
In moon-lit darkness I could see your shades,
Your neat edges silhouetted against darkness,
Went blunt while my blood turned all grey.
I was denied not just my destiny and life...
Rather my right to dream was taken away.

- Anubhav

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The want for an obsequy

Of mickle depth and surrogate associations
There is some thought that I inherit or so
It seems to me. My lapel ends turn out to
Be more grey than I had thought they would.
A little shaded touches would do. What say?
A tinge of cashmere whites or some red?
Like Macbeth I often want to wash it clean...
I would have delegate it to Raphael if only
I was in a different century And my soft
Hand perfection seems to fall short again.
I look around, weary and concerned,
At my reportoire of lofty magic shades -
And in my paraphernalia I find a void.
Just that, and nothing more to count up on.
A blatant song would do for me, for now
Or just a noisy stream of serrated reality.
I would give or take none and all this once,
So take a song and give me my obsequy.


Sunday, August 20, 2006

Blueberry gifts


A ride across the forest and the bridges...
The hand that held me is long gone now,
Silent roadside pebbles, roll on to Beckley -
Virginia will be no more the home that I had.
I ask for my debts to be cleared for once,
Before I can ask for more or try to do so.
To retribute me to my soul, to let go of hope,
To requite another day of mine, return me home....
So many summers passed by for but a winter.
Now the snow lined roads make way for me.
Rush me to my death bed, angels carry me on,
Make haste before the last breath gives away.
Call on the mother - for she would now cry...
Its such a time, such a day, we can't say more...
Hold on to my feet, if I tremble beyond my mind...
Put a little sand on my right hand with no tears.
For gifts let blueberry be my good-bye holdings.
No flowers for me tonight, just let me go light...
At heart and in my mind, I have nothing to hold
A story has been told, and its concluded now




A ride across the forest and the bridges...
The hand that held me is long gone now,
Silent roadside pebbles, roll on to Beckley -
Virginia would be no more the home I had.
Retribute me to my soul, regard it a blunder...
Summer often passes by in the hope for winter
Requite another day of mine, return me home....
A burnt wooden stick ain't same as a splinter...
Rush me to my death bed, angels carry me on,
Make haste before the last breath gives away.
Call on the mother - for she would now cry...
Its such a time, such a day, we can't say more...
Hold on to my feet, if I tremble beyond my mind...
Put a little sand on my right hand with no tears.
For gifts let blueberry be my good-bye holdings.
No flowers for me tonight, just let me go light...
At heart and in my mind, I have nothing to hold
A story has been told, and its concluded now


The tomato

A stale tomato, near the water sink,
An unwashed knife, a broken glass,
A slow moving fan near the window,
And an infinite silence in my house.
It sure was a home once, long ago,
When the knife had a scary shine,
And well washed cutlery was lined
Along the kitchen shelves everyday.
People to rede you on many things -
Paper sachets and steel matchets,
To life, agonies and smiles et al.
Fervid tones and incessant notes,
Some from a guitar; Some yelled!
Frantic feuds over a paper boat -
They happened too around here,
When the tomato was still ripe red.


My illusions

Midnight is a solemn vow
That you take to step
Into my dreams.
And the morning is my
For you are far away.
Out of the reach of my hands,
Every time I stretch out
To hold you.
A coffee cup or just air
Is what I grasp on to.
My midsummer night's dream
Bursts once more
In a soap-water bubble.
With a faint sound
That only fairies can hear.
And they cry.
I find their tears as dew drops
On the roses that I draw.
With water streaked on paper,
Glowing with the lights
From coloured candles.
Burning on like desires,
And melting like me.


Saturday, August 12, 2006

The only momemt

With half open eyes, she looked at me,
Just like it was the only moment that
We had. Just one moment in thousands....
Her hair on my fingers, beckoning me...
To reach out to her dusky skin... Like night
I stood before her. Like dawn she shined...
Her eyes flowing over my inches of reality.
My thoughts ravaging the pleasures...
Anticipation often gets the better share
Of reality. Many moments do pass by...
Eyes locked.... lips touched... untouched
And the calm end with us perspiring...
Told the story of a lifetime... of how we
were one... for just a moment...
The only moment that I had in a lifetime.


To die

Who does not die? Who does?
At the hands of time's immunity.
I stand a witness to the sands,
Till when the black turns grey...
I walk on when asked to stay
Aloft, afloat the mirror of silence,
Reflecting the sins of the poet.
To say that which is true,
Is but a gloomy curse to some.
A chord dischordant in my ears
Echoes on, resonating with you,
And your pain. Silent as ever
The poet passes over again.
No marks left by his feet,
Just some marks of ink and blood.


Thursday, August 3, 2006

Reprehensible truths

Regardless though, I find myself reflecting,
Silent sometimes, conjunctively deflecting.
What my contemplations refer to as my self...
Is often just a thought delving into illusions.
Another pointless whisper that I remember,
From the cold icy month of last December.
When your icy cold fingers touched my face...
Not with love or care but just with semblance...
Another furtive message on its slow way.
Mauled imaginations and clenched fists
Make for a beautifully repulsive couple....
Another day and one more hatred spawns,
Blind steps fondling their way to dawns...
What reality can I portray to myself tonight?
Another false dream or reprehensible truths.


Wednesday, August 2, 2006


Twisted lips can make a day so different,
They can make me leap ahead in time,
Make me speak from inside a photo frame,
My smiles often transcend my name, and -
Me. A flick of the eye across the vision
Charting a course through the day. I, you
Or we can often step a mile by a smile.
To stop or to move is often not a decree,
It is just a choice. Just like it is to cry.
To hold on to the glimpse of sad times,
Is no more a component of my fancy.
I choose to upturn the corners of my lips,
To let the twinkle transcend into my eyes,
I choose to sweep you off your feet,
Every time you look at me, amazed,
Its not the turquoise on my left hand...
Its just the smile that makes you blush.


Monday, July 31, 2006

Mai tanhaa aaya tha

Kuchh gum hua saa lagta hai mujhko,
Jaise kuchh chhoot gaya ho peechhe...
Kya ho gaya hai... kya ho gaya mujhsei
Kya wo mera saaya tha...
Ya mai yu tanhaa hi aaya tha...

Dhoondhta hai kyon kashish fir sei...
Kar raha fir subah ki talaash mai...
Kuchh kho gaya hai... kho gaya mujhsei...
Jisnei mujhei apnaaya tha...
Sapno mei jiske mai rehkar aaya tha...

Ek pal peechhe beeta nahi aise...
Ki jab kal ko maine sochaa nahi...
Khafaa ho gaya hai... khafaa hai mujhsei...
Jo pal maine paaya tha...
Ek pal ko maine zindagi banaaya tha....

Haan wo mera saaya tha....
Kho gaya... mai toh tanhaa hi aaya tha...


Sunday, July 30, 2006

Smile from your heart

Smiling can be a lot of fun, if you just do it from your heart,
Sometimes when you are left behind even with a head start.
Leave yesterday a little step away, move in with me in here
Let's live today, while we tap our feet and laugh our share...

There is magic in the moment every time you smile and say,
"Hello dear life, hello to my smiles, good bye sad yesterday".
Sing yourself a song, smile once gain and just play the guitar,
Through the summers and the winters just be who you are.

Can you still do the dance steps that you did back at school?
Laugh like so carefree when you break every single rule.
Be the kid again, wear your blue shoes and let's run away,
Leave the world far-far behind on a smiling sunny day.

Skip the low looks that you have carried around for so long,
There is just one right - to be happy or everything is wrong,
Sometimes we are left behind but we can still make a start,
Smiling can be a lot of fun, if you just do it from your heart...


Friday, July 28, 2006

It begins at the end

Rushing into the roads, I could feel my blood,
As it rushed through all of my pulsating veins.
Adrenaline does get explosive when its mixed
With tears. And fear can get past all emotions,
In just a blink of red flowing eyes. Hush me
If I cry too loud for I am in a mad rush; Out to
Reach tomorrow today. Just yet I cannot give
In. Or give up. For I have to find a way out of
This moment. I need to be somewhere. I am
Needed. I have been seeded, with pain again.
But this is not who I started out to be. Not me.
Someone's waiting out there with red roses
And a bunch of caring thoughts for me. I am
At the wrong place. At the wrong time. I can
Not float away into the ephemeral skies. Not
Tonight. Not this time. Zipping past blood on
My face and hands. I can feel the need to go
Far away. To call it quits. To say I am done.
I remember where I begun. In a bright sun
Lit afternoon, so unlike this stormy night. I
Can fly, in my dreams. Or so it seems, to me.
Someplace within my dreams. Some lines
Within my hands. Call out to me. To be.
To stay for just another moment and then
To find the thought that I have held on to...
Every day that I have lived. That which I
have dreamed. I need to live it now. Here
It begins, where it was supposed to end.
You and I. And a beautiful dream, to fly...

- Anubhav K

Sunday, July 23, 2006


Another little step into the day and they shine like before,
Carry over the weights of yesterday or carry me no more,
Tapping sounds is how they speak - "Come after me"...
One telling the other, "Follow me", "Let's go", "Lead me".

One reflects the other, the shine never fades out for them,
Whether coupled with the trousers or a low lying satin hem.
The naughty boy wore shoes when I was just a little boy...
And years later, they carry me today from laughter to joy.

A little knock at the steps, they wouldn't mind the stairs too,
Once I put the brush to them, they would shine like ever new.
A day's work, a day's dirt, they never stick to yesterdays...
Never gone, ever there! Ever ready for the unknown ways!

The lace not slack, all tied to tips, to go and find more reasons,
They point ahead, don't look back and never mind the seasons.
A little rain or cold it be; They move on in the summer heat,
The shiny shoes, with surer steps, go on and on into the beat.

- Anubhav K

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Undo me while I can be undone...

I am being disguised as a cover up lie,
Like red bands and frills on the way...
You never really know if you can fly
Till you hold your breath and fly away...

Once more in a fleeting glimpse it goes
Past my Chevrolet, like an x-mas tree...
Hidden in memories in the silent lows.
What would I not give, to be just me?

You could find me unfolded in a corner
Unwrapped from within, swirling around.
Like I had my way and the right answer...
I could sing so loud and make no sound.

Write me another word of love tomorrow
Have been a cover up lie for so long...
Undo me while I can be undone from sorrow.
I really want this to be a happy song..

- Anubhav K

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Of feline mirth and carbonated drinks

Where can we begin to end our thoughts?
Where you and I are just a syllable away?
To catch a glimpse of life in feline mirth...
Is as rare as a smile that's meant to stay.

Reticent emotions speak a lot to quiet souls -
In dark dodgy corners of fears and desires.
Some of them break away from me at dusk
To come back as crystals of salty sapphires.

Miracles do happen over carbonated drinks
If only you would close your eyes to know
That often wide open eyes miss the bliss
That hangs around like mist near your brow.

Loud rumbling drums and ushered emotions
Sometimes just do not speak in the undertones
That a lonely sparrow has awaited to hear, to know -
That spaces do exist beyond erogenous zones.

-Anubhav K

Friday, June 30, 2006

The hues of dreams

While the glass of wine trickles at its edge,
Violet dreams are often born in silk attires
When words bridge over worlds at night,
And the old lady to her silent room retires.

When black and white thoughts break even
Into the scarlet coloured wants of men.
Roses often fall short of things to be said,
While questions of what turn into when.

The meters of a song fading from afar
Blend into the whispers of my hands.
And speak to your fingers in the dark.
When time's not a metaphor with sands.

The better halves of people sleep at home
Those of desires are diminished by the hour.
What could have transpired after dusk?
But the lack of a candle and a lilac flower...

Crimson dreams sometimes die at dawn
While ink blotted blank papers are lined up
On the table in the want of magic words
And hues of dreams are lost in a dry tea cup...


Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Of steel sheets and children

Steel sheets cannot smile like little children
Nor can they dance around with blue shoes
Laces untied in a carefree manner...
To fall and to get up in a laughing chaos
Is a privilege that only red ribbons flaunt.
Meandering thoughts reflected in curious
Wide eyes. Questions followed by questions
Seeking answers evermore. Never more
Than less. A thought; A thoughtful recess.
If only concrete could contemplate with
The same honesty as the little heads
Wearing maroon monkey caps in winters.
In the built up alleys of wooden splinters
There won't be a smog hanging in the air.
That smells of thoughtlessness and despair.
Another wall built higher than the reach
Of a little hand. Another dream of sand
Obscured by the want of a better world.
Of men, match-sticks and paper boats
There would no more be stories told.
Tin soldiers once fell on grass lawns
Beneath whispers in hushed tones.
They did not know the colour of blood
Till the better world dawned up on
Their squeaky little dreams. They
Were told of fear and blood. Steel
Sheets would keep them safe now on,
But they cannot whisper to tin soldiers
And dance in blue shoes. Can they?


Monday, June 26, 2006

Another ungranted indulgence

You can be just a beautiful dream,
If I let you realize into my reality
You might just melt in the spaces
Between my fingers. No traces
To be found when I look around.
You can be the sunrise or dusk
But if I try to fly like an albatross
To reach out to your hands.
You might just vanish beyond
My closed eyes like yesterday.
How can I touch yesterday? Tell me,
If I can hold a dream in my hands.
Or if my time like dry passing sands
Can be kissed on its lips in the dark?
How can I fiddle with images that
don't even exist? You tell me if
light travels faster than sound...
Why is it that I hear these voices
but I don't see a thing at all ?
Can I fall from the lowest spot
That I've known? I still feel that
I am falling through the gaps
In your fist. Clenched hands
And teary eyes do tell a story
To my dreams. How can I
flee from my past? How long
Will I last? Through the song...
Waves of emotions hit the
shores of reality. To hit through
Half closed eyes and make me
Realize that breaking free
Is an indulgence that lost
Lovers can no longer afford.

- Anubhav

Thursday, June 22, 2006

To forget or to remember

To fly? To float? Maybe! But
To forget is not my desire.
There now lie my rough notes
Where I once forgot destiny
In the undercoats of thoughts
To be lost for once and all.
To remember would thus be
A privilege that I should seek.
Or so it would seem from far
A whisper captive in a jar
Is not a beautiful sight to
Dream of. But to forget it
Turns out is a bliss. To leave
That which I cannot believe.
And let the dried up wounds
Remain covered up with silks
While memories fade away
Into oblivion. A stroke of
Destiny to silence desires.


Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Grey skies

The shades of grey light up the skies for me
Every afternoon when I look out at the bright
Sun. Am I really done? Or have I just begun?
A part me cries out aloud "Come all undone"...
Some part of me is allayed, some aggravated,
Wondering if this is what has been awaited.
Over time, under the bridges, holding the red
rose in my hands. It has been white daisies
Too at times. Summer sunsets hidden in your
Eyes. Winter dusks closed beyond mine.
What did we find? Grey shaded sunshine?
Coloured seasons pass me by in my mind
And I am overshadowed by the grey skies...


Friday, June 9, 2006

The colour of your thoughts

What's been the red colour of the day for your mind? What's been the green? Strange questions to ask. Stranger even to answer. And yet they could spark off such thoughts that you could probably not imagine out of sheer sanity! How meticulous do we get at times? That we almost forget the beauty of being abstract. The flurried high of the blurred vision. Your wrists pulsating in tandem with your forehead. Your heart palpitating. Sprinkles of perspiration in the folds of your surface - Don't they make you feel giddy? The drugged slur of uncertainty echoing through the brain is something that precision cannot surpass in any quanta of perspective! There is magic in the unknown. In the undefined is the answers that hold the secret to all that we seek. To begin with red and green. To end at the absolute truth. The unraveling of the mysteries that one would behold. Subtle if it could be, loud as it always is - Reality is far more abstract than we would ever dream, want or expect it to be.

Ask yourself when you go to sleep. What has been the red colour of the day for your mind and what has been the green? Dreams would follow. Different dreams.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The walk back home

"How does it feel to have the rains wash down your wounds?"
"It has been a bright long day after so many dark long days."
"Is there any water left in your bottles?" "Any food remains?"
"Did you ever think we would live through these harsh ways?"

The soldiers blabbered on in their voices loud and clear,
It has been days since they had spoken with such a smile,
Victory enthuses and infuses such energies in dying men...
Wounded, hungry men, dragging on that extra mile...

"I would have dropped down my guns and died long long ago"
"It could have been much worse had I lost my other leg too"
"But here we are through battles - worn, torn and yet alive"
"My friend, victory and rains come together for a very few..."

They had won it for their smiles, for their homes and more,
To take back what is lost is a feeling that words can't explain.
The walk to the gardens in their homes won't be so long
As the walk through the battles. Even through the rain...

- Anubhav

Monday, May 29, 2006

Agonies of delight

Agonies of delight, fantasies of my flight,
Would you take me? Would you step aside?
Ravaging my thoughts, silent in the noise...
What flavours would you add to my pain tonight?

Rivers of my tears since I was only six,
Flowing down my face, down to your hands.
Your fingers taught me how to write long ago
Now they feel like piercing pricks of pain.

I was just seven year old that day in June
You could not care about my screams...
You would get me candy with love some days
Now I am all wasted at just thirteen...

There was a day at the river, that afternoon,
When you made me sit on your lap.
Now its so scary every time you ask me
I just feel a cold shiver down my spine.

Sometimes I wonder if there's life in me
In some dark corner that's yet not touched.
I try to find those ugly parts of me
That would remain virgin till I am loved.

I keep them safe like my treasures everyday
My pieces that you've not pillaged yet
That you don't find worthy of your touch
The only vernal parts of my wilted self.

There is a pain in my smiles when I see you
A hatred that I have known for years.
There are no flights of my fantasies
My agonies of delight, no wings to fly...

- Anubhav

This work has been featured at

This thought hit me this morning... The feelings of a young girl who has been abused by her own father... I don't know why or how but I stepped in her shoes for a while... And I felt her pain...

Thursday, May 25, 2006

How silence speaks...

How would silence speak to me in dark stormy nights?
Would it disguise itself and come hiding to me
Tip toed, in the little pause between the thunder strikes?
Or would it be too scared and remain quiet like itself?
I wonder if it would tap me over my shoulder gently
To whisper its cognitive thoughts into my ears
Or if it would knock me over by its sheer presence
Like it usually does; Silence is so subversive sometimes.
It has its effervescent presence all over my life
Rolled up as water in little huge corners of my eyes.
You would feel that its docile voices would vanish
Within the voids of the tempest's hesitations.
But it lingers on through the fading dawn
And walks with me into another silent day.


Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I am a whisper of apologies

I am the blue wind in the grey white sky at dusk,
Like the lust that is lost before love sets in...
Just like the fading taste lingering on
I won't be known once the coffee's done.
Once it was bright in my sun lit afternoon
Now I am a cold and dimming evening sun.
I am the kiss that evanesced in young desires
Or whose dream to melt on tender lips
Met reality midway to die on a forehead.
And the breeze that blows the white petals
Of the lovesome daisies into your face.
I am the whisper that tells you apologies
That the flowers were never meant for you.


Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Time flies by in paranoid whispers

Who found the blue eyed boy in you that early day in June?
Who told you to strum your guitar a little slower than before?
When you walked in with little steps and ran off to your room,
Smiles lined my face when your little hands knocked the door...

The undertones of silence wouldn't make for a song
If it were not for you and your grey eyed thoughts.
Through the looking glass, down the rabbit hole,
There were places that we went on Sunday afternoons.

Little fingers gently crossed in my coarse hands
Deep eyes looking at the world with so many questions.
Sometimes I reclaim my imagination and remember
How I had things to tell you and you would teach me life...

I had a little son once who is grown up into a man
The young man in me has grown old since then.
How the young rushing blood slows down to stillness?
And silent fading memories replace blurred euphoria.

When times fly by in paranoid whispers, nothing remains
Of you and me but faint memories to dream and smile.
Like an eagle in the sky, time's been watching over me
Dropping in a little tear drop every once in a while.


Saturday, May 13, 2006

Of faith, writing and voluptuous women

When words would cease to form the swirls at the hems of the skirts of voluptuous women dancing in the richly blossomed gardens of the wealthy men. When there would be no more clefts left in my uncanny ways both with the pen and with the stratagem of aligning the race of humans alongside for a cause. I would then rise from the deep dreams that I now indulge in, not for pleasure and not in the least in the pursuit of desires but by the forces of need such as is felt in times of deep peril. I would rise, yes! And I would walk into oblivion through the thick fogs of the blue inks that lead the way to the heavens and hells of the virgin mind of yet another writer within the bounds of myself. To exploit the untouched realms of the new world and march another armed race through the corners of its peaceful green lands. To echo its quiet mundane rivulet scattered countrysides with the quivers and roars of the cannons of human anger, ambition, greed and more.

Rebecca could be the name of a woman that would cross the street and end up dying with flowers scattered all over her blood stained dress. That would make for a stunning poetic scene. That would make for a painful reality. Someone's life can so deeply be altered by such an event. Skip a scene. Rewind. Skip two rather. A girl buying flowers for her lover at a flower shop. Dreaming of a candle light dinner. Her fingers gently fidgeting along the flower shop's window sill. Her eyes fixated on a certain collection of daisies. Fresh and white. They had met over a business lunch. It was a rich ambience. A garden full of flowers. So unlike these at this flower shop. Young women and men dancing around to an orchestra. The skirts flowing around the garden much like poetry. And here she was in love. Her mind forming a poetry of its own, selecting words like flowers and choosing flowers from the window sill of a flower shop...

We all know that down the story she would be dead and there would be no candle light dinners. Such is the agony of the pen that must drag on against the irony of knowing and yet pretending not to know. Like a blindfolded man peeking through gaping holes in a game of hide and seek. The pen slips on the fluid surface of deceit. That is how another virgin mind is ravaged. Its screams echoing in the words of the writer. The breaks of the punctuation reflecting his own shameful glances at his ravaged virginity....

Faith often is a transcendental truth. It needs neither logic nor power to assist its struggle to the epitome of greater glory. I say greater for want of an argument more than anything else. Words often are driven by nothing more than faith. That it would all conclude into something meaningful at the end of it. There would be a moral to the story, a conclusion to the discussion, a proof to the theory or a conjecture would at least follow the hypothesis if not an experimental truth. The pen struggles against not just friction but much more including negating thoughts, preconceived notions, prejudices and the forces from the cosmos (yes that too!) amongst other things. Faith is what holds the flow so to speak. And the voluptuous women dance on in scantily clad attires in the richly blossomed gardens of the rich men with the words flowing along the hems of the swirls of their skirts. Poetry is thus formed by faith. Nothing but faith. And love too...

Sunday, April 30, 2006

Life after death

Little child let me walk by you
Let me grow old while you grow
Hold my hands when I die
Be by my side every time I cry...

You were my father once...
When I was a child long time ago
You do not know ...
Of the times that I spent with you

Little boy.. let me walk by you..

I have seen the dark sides of death
And I have seen life pass me by
When sky is no more blue
When there is no more sky...

I have seen red seas in your eyes
When you were my father...
And I died.. Your little child.
I have been alive once again

Little boy... let me walk by you

Let me walk by you.. once more...
Before I die in your arms again...
Life after death is not the same
But here I am with you again...


Monday, April 17, 2006

The children with no shoes

The red flowers on the road side
Used to walk with me to school
The little boys with blue shoes
Chuckled all the way with me

It was a twenty minute walk
But I always took some more
Looking at the roadside houses
Of clay and the children around

They could not go to school
For they had no blue shoes
That's what mommy used to say
No shoes meant no school

Now I drive my way to work
I still see the clay houses
And the children with no shoes
With an unwanted look in their eyes.

They never grew up it seems
I did to find the truth
It was not the shoes but us
Who gave them nothing but empty stares...

- Anubhav

Thursday, April 13, 2006

There were places to go

I find little things in my head like a scar
Of the thoughts that you left behind.
Little pecks of love in the evenings
Made me feel like a little boy that summer.

Shapes of your fingers on my hands
Carved out a spot to rest in the afternoons.
When you slept in my car and I drove
Far away on the highway with nowhere to go.

The grey shades of the roads to lead us
To some place that we would call home.
You were ready to go to any place with me
As long as we were going together.

I can feel that empty seat in my car today
Where you used to sit and smile at me.
We always had some place to go
Hand in hand, humming our songs.

I remember the little things that changed
When I asked you to trust me once more.
One more year and I would be better off
To be able to take care of you forever.

But I did not have those fast cars
That your new friends drove around.
And I couldn't go to those places
Wearing rich clothes and no worries.

I would have done it for you once more
All I needed was a little time to come through.
But I did not have those shades of blue
In my eyes any more - That's what you said.

And we could not go to all those places
Just being what we thought we could be.
This time you had different place to go
Leaving behind the shadows in my head.

- Anubhav

Monday, April 10, 2006

Finding that thought...

So deep in my heart that I lose it once more
There is a feeling hiding its subtle notes.
Wresting with the want to know the unknown
It sinks beyond the reach of my small hands.

I remember I once found a feeling that I lost
In such a way. It was sitting alone in a corner
Of my heart. Hiding its frail face with a veil
Of obscurity and the fear to be discovered.

A little nudge would push it deeper
Into the caverns of the dark alleys of my mind.
A little force would make it vanish
Into thin air, like it never really existed.

So I crawled slowly up to it and whispered
In its tiny ears, that it was mine and I
Belonged to it. We were brothers and sisters
Dancing with awkward steps in my thoughts.

I found it in the unknown and now I have lost it
Once more. Yearning for the jingle of its steps
I look around with a flickering lamp of desires
To find my dancing thought partner again.


Sunday, April 9, 2006

The bottle cap

Lying on the floor upside down
Its staring at me with a gaping look.
There is a story that it whispers
About the toll that time took.

Looking around I find shards
Of broken glass stained in blood.
The vision of happy little faces in the park
With dirty hands dipped in mud, flashes.

Drops of red in shocked surprise
Dripped forth in the daylight.
The upside down bottle cap
Reminds of that summer day.

- Anubhav

Wednesday, April 5, 2006

The red arrow

They had smiled and kissed while holding hands
Watching more of each other than the movie.
With their eyes drifting over each other
Anticipation got better of all emotions.

His ruffled hair and her slightly form were waiting
For what they thought would follow
Sooner or later. They would want it soon!
To rush or to stay was not a question.

The gun shots from the movie faded away
Into the noise of the blood rushing
In their heads. Her red dress reflecting
The passion contained in his dark eyes.

The little popcorn box had fallen sideways
As if it was not surprised by the neglect.
For there was something deeper running
In that space than a movie and popcorn.

He remembered when he had met her
At the subway one week ago. His slurred
Voice had caused her to stir.
Coffee followed and led on to dinner.

John felt that there was something that would last
At last. Nudged on by her hints
Undeterred by her emphasis on being just friends
He flowed on with the pecks on his lips.

His rough hands communicated a want
And hers reciprocated in a silent desire.
The white shine of Jenny’s ribbons
Beckoned him over more than once.

Just then that other man tapped her shoulder
Calling her by a name not known to John.
And she snapped and turned around with
Tears streaking her face like rivulets on fire.

Her blank eyes stared back at him,
Desires were now replaced with guilt.
Maybe there was something deeper in that space
Than his raging young emotions on display.

She got up and paused, then walked across
The row of seats to where that other man was.
Her wet eyes stared back at John when her lips
Were locked with that other man.

She walked out silently and the movie played on
With loud voices in his head and on the screen.
He got up looking at the warm empty seat and started
Walking to the red arrow sign which said “Exit”.


Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Jeet tera hai ilaaz - Victory is your cure

This one is in Hindi. Will try to post a translation as well soon in case anyone wants that.

Reh gaya ho gar koi muddato mei bhool kar,
Ya tere dil ki awaaz ab kabhi aati nahi,
So raha hai gar tera har khyaal-e-aarzu,
Aur tere paiyro mei chalne ki dhadhak aati nahi,

Toh bataana dil ko ye ki haar hai bas haar mei,
Tu nahi chalta toh manzil bhi idhar aati nahi,
Aur jagaana har kadam mei jeet ke us ehsaas ko,
Jis mei thaknei aur shikan ki boo kabhi aati nahi,

Kya wo keemat khoon ki, himmat-e-marzi mei hai,
Gar nahi toh laut jaa, ab dar idhar baaki nahi,
Haar toh ek marz hai aur jeet tera hai ilaaz,
Par wo zinda-dil ki jeetein muft mei aati nahi.


English Translation
If you've been forgotten for a long time,
Or if the voices of your heart are no more heard,
If your desires and dreams are asleep,
And your feet don't have the fire to move on...

Let it be known that the only defeat is in defeat (itself),
If you do not move, your destinations won't (come to you),
And let the feeling of victory rise in your steps,
Wherein there are no frowns or exhaustion...

Is the will of your desires up to pay the price?
If not, turn around! For there's no space for fear ahead,
Defeat is a mere disease, and victory is your cure,
But the life of freedom has a price to pay...


Monday, March 27, 2006

The Equality of Inequality

Brick walls, glass-houses and mirrors in the corridor,
Shades of blue and black reflections crawl on the mosaic floor.
Shadowed forms move across with faces painted with fear,
The glint in their eyes is not a shine but a tiny drop of tear.

Agony untold, retold, unsaid and reiterated, in their whispers,
They talk of equality that should be, that could have been.
Aloud they dream and silently express their clauses and inferences,
Of how the corridors should have been different than they are.

There is a magic that fear instills and that life responds to -
In a minor entertained fashion, as if it had a clue.
An answer maybe to the reasons, a question for the cause,
And the shadows move on with restlessness without a sense of pause.

Mirrors! Why mirrors? To see us reflect our own pains,
To watch our shame flow by in retrospect as we edge on,
To a greater good? To a finer sin? An unwanted introspection begins,
And murmurs line the corridors, with the shadows halted,
About the hungry children dying in the underbellies of the place.

Unkempt forms crawl up from behind the crowded lanes,
And shout aloud in frantic calls - the images in their brains.
There is a change that they demand, a change to change within,
They want the world – a better place? Is it a fatal sin?

And voices from the upper berths, the crust of all men,
Break across the fathomed crowd, a striking harsh truth,
There can be no better place that they could have it be,
And the mirrors on the wall shall remain, and reflect,
The shame that has been brought on the race of men,
There shall be no equality that would be known to them,
The hungry children shall keep dying and shadows must move on.


Thursday, March 23, 2006

Life - An abysm

I closed my eyes around a dream once,
Held it close to my heart, embraced it as my own,
And wherever I went, the dream was with me,
Like the only truth, the only reason that I could see.
I held its arms and walked it around my life,
As if by chance, I felt, I had struck luck,
Life as I see now, had it all coming.

Planned from the scratch without an element of chance,
The subtle movements - parts of a fatal cosmic dance,
Pin pointed at a man in a fair game of destiny,
Where nothing was ever fair and was never meant to be,
Unending narrow curved roads, disorienting the man,
Leading him to an end that he never began for.

Life is an abysm, an aberration from the truth -
That should have been and has vanished within -
The unknown depths of mystery that life is.
Sometimes mutating into an attraction,
Calling me close in its arms, caressing my lips,
And then as if it were a plan, a conspiracy of sorts,
It grabs me by my collar and discloses itself,
In a raw gross reality, pushing me into the darkness.


Saturday, March 18, 2006

What did you lose?

Its like sometimes when you can't sit down in a place,
You walk around; Fidgeting fingers; Lines on your face -
- Telling a story that you don't want to hear; You want quiet -
- Moments to wrap you in sleep; Bring peace to your eyes.
They have been flowing on with thoughts; Emotions; Cravings,
Dried pools that once used to be a sea; Like spent up savings -
- There is no more that you can give; No more you can take.
The sweat on your hands questions you; You say "I forsake"...
You want magic? Miracles? "No, I just want my sleep".
Questions; Questions; Answers; Silence is what you keep -
- Close to your heart; Closer to your thoughts; Distant from you.
You find a lie in every retreat; A lie; Its false; Is that true?
Corners in your head, with little groups of thoughts emerge -
- Murmuring sounds of disapproval; Silent when you get close.
Words gather up in scattered forms; A poetry? A prose?
You move your feet in random ways, staring at the wall,
Waiting for moments to collate into something beautiful.
It does not happen; Has it happened yet? Till now?
There is no form that they seem to take; Except shadows -
- Little; Big; small; Huge; Darkness is what darkness shows.
You the turn the chair, trying to face another wall,
As if that would have answers; You take a stroll...
Walk a few feet; Turn around; Walk; Turn; Stop; Sit.
You found peace? Something? A little bit?
None? Is there something lost that you want to find?
A memorandum of happiness? Stamped and signed?
Blank eyes look back at you from behind the cold air -
- That you breath in and out; Seconds; Minutes; Hours.
Passing by like a street side shop from within a car...
Is it getting close? Close enough? Is it so far?
What did you lose really? Just sleep or something more...

- Anubhav

Friday, March 17, 2006

The war with my reflection

A looking glass; A mirror on the wall; My reflections;
Scars on my face; A memory of yesterday remains -
- With me, when I walk down the lanes in my mind...
Curtained thoughts; Curtailed; Tip-toe from behind,
I brush my hair; More hand than comb; Ruffled hair,
Water dripping down the faucet; Trickling despair..
Fundamentals; Principles; Ethics; Morals shaken up,
Yesterday; Today; Tomorrow; Time blends into me...
And I into time; ticking every minute; Walking to you -
- Is it you that I am walking to? Am I walking yet?
Am I running away? From you? For you? I forget -
- The reasons why I run? The reasons why I stop?
The water trickles on with your reflection in every drop,
My eyes fidgeting with my mind; The mirror; The scars...
I turn around and look back over my shoulders,
Stealing glimpses at my own reflection; It talks to me -
- Sometimes it does; In whispers most of the time,
Hushed tones; Loud silence; Angry; Serene; Sublime!
Metaphors and their affiliations floating through -
- The mirror; Attaching to me, and to my image...
I try to scratch the mirror to remove the scar...
Futile attempts; Unknown trysts; A lasting war...
I clench my fists; I want to have no past; Just today -
- That's all I want for me; I stare at the mirror -
I stare back at myself; Pleading guilty one more time.
Kneeling down in my thoughts, I ask for forgiveness,
I ask for more; And more; And more; Nothing less;
I stand on the floor; Wrestling with my yesterday,
I hit as hard as I can - Smashing the glass to pieces...


Sunday, March 12, 2006

Shapes on the wall

Grey colours from the walls creep into my thoughts...
Like blended emotions, restless for attention...
Shapes forming unseen faces on the silent wall...
Loud noises reverberating through my head...
Echoes from the past - Voices of tomorrow...
I find a house, a place, a road to follow -
- On the wall; I find friends smiling silently...
Some faces looking like two; Some just one,
Some sitting silently; Some want to run -
- Away; Far far away into the dawns of yesterday...
I see some toys - gloves, a bat and a ball to play...
Scribbled letters in chalk by the little kids...
I remember when I used to do the same...
Little pencils in my hand - it was a game -
- Life was; Screaming, shouting, laughing...
Sleeping in the winter, waking to spring...
Hugs from my mother, love from family...
I see the little face that once used to be me...
Looking at me with disdain, disgust and fear...
I see her too with smiles, her hair flowing by...
I remember that look when she said good bye...
Tears streaking down her face, streams of life -
- Or of the lifeless times to come? Silence...
Yes... I find silence on the wall too...
Staring back at me with loud quiet stares...
Some chipped paint forming a flight of stairs...
Like the one at school, where we used to sit...
Talking of the world, maths, girls, everything...
Smirking when the English teacher asked me to sing...
The end of day and we rushed out of the class...
I see the road that I took for home... Serenity...
Yes... I see serenity too on the wall...
Tricking the mess of life, challenging it...
And I notice some more forms... I try to decrypt...
Blurred... It is too blurred to understand...
It looks like a... Face... No.. no.. Its a hand...
I am trying to focus, to see the shape clear...
Smash!! You open the door... The paint falls...
I was looking at that corner.... Was finding life...


Saturday, March 11, 2006

At the back of my hands

I keep looking at the back of my hands...
Mesmerized at my thoughts... of you...
Seems like only yesterday - you and me,
Sitting together, passing smiles at life,
You held my hand and kissed it...
I still feel the warmth and long for it...
Your smiling and me making a song for it...
Those days sped by so fast...
Just a blurred vision remains...
I feel words blending into my ears...
Final thoughts - your parting tears...
The sun went by - Its a cloudy sky...
Now I just hear murmurs in the air,
My thoughts talking to my feelings.


I am waiting

It was a merry go round once -
- Life was; Seclusions and isolations;
One following the other, led by life,
Each following an unknown tryst -
- With destiny; Surprises and set backs...
Nights after days - dawns waiting for dusk...
"Must be done"; "What must be done ?"
Questions for my answers and silence -
- For my smiles, tears, passion and more...
The quietness came before the storm...
And after it; You came before I did...
And you left when I came; Still quiet.
Yes it was a merry go round once...
Scrambled emotions in retrospect -
- Going in paths encircling life...
And now its just a point; A single point...
Where I stand and wait for life.



I want to be red, want to be green,
I want to hide and still be seen...
I want to colour my life in black an white...
I just want to fade away tonight...
I am feeling, like a day once more...
Like a feeling of yesterday...
I want to fly, want to reach out for the sky...
I would have gone far away, but for you...
I can't be without... I am feeling blue...
Yes, feeling all blue... today again... yes again...
I cannot feel your hand... can feel the pain...
Just the morning went overboard...
And the evening was lonely too...
Now I am feeling blue... All blue....
My tears are taken back,
Words said are silent now...
I can feel the heat in my mind...
Like life creeping on from behind....
It was in the air when I was at the gate...
Its still hanging on and its pretty late...
I knew it was to good to be true...
And now I am blue... Am feeling blue...
I left the keys at home, and was late for work...
And the people there, I felt them smirk...
Then I dropped the papers on the floor,
When noon came by I was still not sure...
I tripped at the door, spilled the coffee too...
I am feeling blue... All blue...
The traffic lights seemed to mock at me...
The noisy horns and the frenzied spree...
Life running around in mini skirts...
And royal blue tucked in shirts...
When I reached for the mail....
There was nothing new...
Was still feeling blue...
I was missing you ... Feeling blue....

- Anubhav

Friday, March 3, 2006

I hope when I am hurt

Why does it hurt? Why do I feel the pain?
Why do I walk with shaking steps today?
Why do I fall everytime I rise in the dark?
Why does it come and pass away... ?
Goodness does... life does... you do sometimes...
I feel hurt everytime... Worse than before,
I cannot get used it even now...
After hundred times it hurts even more...
I cannot replicate myself, cannot cry...
I cannot laugh, cannot say good bye...
I need you everyday... Like my angel,
To hold you when everything else goes by,
Fingers entangled - we look at the sky,
Talking, whispering, counting stars...
My dream of you, your dream of me...
Our dreams together like love undone,
You have come so far for me...
I have been running for so long for you...
"I missed you" - you say - "I missed you too"
And yet it hurts even today, like fresh...
When you go and do something like that...
When I feel you've given up on me...
When I feel the world means so much more...
It hurts when I feel you walk over me...
I want those days back... of you and me...
Looking at the stars, splashing in the sea...
Hands in hands, eyes interlocked...
Having time and life pass us by...
We smiling and holding on... forever


Sunday, February 26, 2006

Living my illusions

Like the winds blowing over,
To my side of the table...
The breeze cooler on the other side,
Or just my illusions of a kind...

Could I understand your words ?
When you whisper to me...
I would not know; Don't want to,
I just love my illusions of this kind...

Rough notes scribbled in my mind...
blurred letters written and forgotten,
Sometimes I carry images of the past,
But mostly I live my illusions of the kind...

The frost on the glass; Unclear...
Holding life distant and you dear!
I try to look into the clear liquid sometimes...
Usually I prefer my illusions of the kind...

When I hear your words, I am silent,
When I touch you, I am complete...
Sometimes I let reality take over...
On most days I believe my illusions of my kinds...


Friday, February 17, 2006

The shoe and the tin can

The little kid holding her hand, walking alongside,
His two little steps matching her single leaps,
The smile playing on his lips, the sparkle of his eyes,
Reflecting the safe peace of his mind, with his mother,
Running around her in circles and then catching up,
She looking at him - smiling, he looking back with a giggle...

After a while, the tired little legs need help,
And she lifts him in her arms, safe arms of the mother...
He snuggles up and falls asleep, calm, at peace,
The world is hidden from him, he just feels the breeze -
- Caressing his hair while he is in his safe haven,
Being loved, loving, living the sunrise of his life...

His eyes closed with dreams passing him by,
Like the streets of the city, criss-crossed by traffic!
Dreams of the playground, dreams of the garden,
Dreams of the flowers and the butterflies and the toys!!
Sound sleep, the ocean of the world sweeping all over...
Glow worms shining and stars twinkling at him.

Then... he woke up in shock... scared... alone,
On his bed, no arms holding him, no safe peace!!
No breeze in his air, his eyes fixated to the corner...
Looking at his shoe from his childhood, one of the pair,
And the beer can from last night; Living in retrospect...


The slum of my city

In the highrise skyline of my city,
I often see a frail sign of smoke -
Rising from a thatch roofed house...
Containing the smell of hunger and need,
A silent prayer; A distant courage;
Comforting words in the masks of lies,
I see it rise, as if from a burning corpse -
- of humanity; The price of life in a big city...
... the cost of the laughter of children,
I see life crawling in the underbelly of pretention,
An ugly face of undying hunger shadows the houses -
- jumbled boxes of human life in the slum of my city...


Soaring High

Floating on ether, holding your hands, I fly in -
- the blue shades of reflecting skies in your eyes,
Letting time slip by through the spaces in my hands,
I float into the passing sands like a forgotten moment,
And I stay there, suspended between you and your love,
Waiting; Biding my time; To move closer to the latter,
I listen to your hair silently falling down your back...
Hear the sounds that your eye-lids make while blinking,
I can listen to the echoes of your whispers in my mind,
While I rise up in a callous mood, soaring high...

- Anubhav

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

I stand in stillness

I try to walk, but my feet won't move - not even an inch,
They are transfixed to the one spot that I stand in...
Petrified, I whisper to my own self, I beg my legs to move,
To take me back to my home, to let me crash and sleep...
I look up to the stars, its getting dark all around...
They blink at me - the stars - as if smiling at my pain,
Some more join in, and together they laugh,
Constellations from the cosmos, looking down at a man...
A man - alone - looking back at the skies,

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Fade Away

Dreams fade away into the foggy night of life,
Some silent and others with their own words to say,
They crawl into the dark, to never return to you,
Filaments of emotions entangled together, into a dream...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Taste for red

The need for lush feelings to surround me,
To be held close, to feel the smell; Breath it...
To feel love melting on my taste buds,
The need to summarize lust in a moment...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

I slipped and fell - Excerpt

I looked into the deep of her eyes set ablaze -
With emotions and love; Silent and yet so loud...
I felt the ethereal pull of her glimpse,
Like being pushed on by feather touches,
I could not hold back, I rushed on ahead,
I shot like a bullet, I slipped and fell...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book "Across the wall of my mind"

When I flew high

I stand like a rock, on the beaches of pain,
Life hitting me with its waves all day...
My hands tied behind me, I cannot save my face...
I see the smiling birds flying away -
- from me, leaving me standing on the shore,
The sunrise hurts my eyes, sudden light -
- after the darkness, surprise after shock...
I can hear the laughter of yesterday echo,
Resounding with music of the young days...
When I could run faster than time...
When I could leave the pain behind...
When I could dream with open eyes in the mornings,
When in the evenings I could play my guitar,
You left me alone... you left me far...
I can hear the winds of yesterday scaring me,
My hairs stand on their ends... feeling the loss -
- of the time when I could conjure magic,
When I could drown paper boats and jump with joy,
When I could feel my dreams up in the sky...
I remember the day when I could fly...


Jungle Playground

The place where I hid when mother got angry,
The place where I lived my dreams alone,
I walked barefoot on the ground, feeling the grass -
- slide under my feet, and the birds flying around,
Silent words of the people from my dreams,
Echoes from the trees, whispering stories to me,
Calling me - each towards its own tale of life,
Some low pitched, some ruffled words in the breeze,
Me; running around, tying my shoes, chasing the bees...
Rush of laughter hurled towards me from the void,
Watching the sun go down on the green trees...
Hanging on the iron post, whistling to myself...
Living life in my jungle playground.


Monday, February 13, 2006

Flickering Dreams

Flickering fragments of dreams spread through the void...
Coloured shades of emotions, faking a smile...
Rather unsaid than spoken, silent than loud,
Pieces of a jigsaw that never add up to a complete image,
Relentless nudging thoughts, cornered and left alone...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Friday, February 10, 2006

Green Water

Hidden visions of your back yard, green reflections in my eyes,
I walk in my shadows to discover the depth in my tears,
Remembering when we dipped our feet in the water,
And sat there, holding hands, watching the sunsets in winters...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

A shallow river in my mind

The depth of my emotions -
- has not been easy to comprehend,
What I say? What I feel? What I pretend?
Sometimes when it looks so deep...
With unbounded emotions in retreat...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Frozen yesterday

Once flowing, showing sure signs of life,
Meandering across the landscape of time...
Touching places, people and emotions...
Making whispering and shouting sounds,
Walking on, sprinting and gushing with laughter....

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Sunday, February 5, 2006

Silent and surprised...

Feelings that once flowed like water, like a dream in my eyes,
Like strokes of paint on canvas, unbounded and free...
Merging blood from my veins and emotions from my mind,
Glimpses of sunrise, and, of dusk - blending in my thoughts...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Blood In The Rain

This one is from 2003 as well

I can see the clouds gather up a dark force
And I can see the sun go down once more
I remember the storm and dark night before
When I was walking alone on the sea shore ....

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

I once dreamed

Another one from 2003

I once dreamed of an angel, she was flowing through the sky,
It was a flash of beauty, a distant, charming lie,
The dream was not to be, not for me, not at all...
My vision got so blurred, my heart has had its fall...
The child that dreamed, the man that lived, their lives had parted ways,
Some golden words, some shattered hopes; fading through the days
The light that was, the dawn to come, the sun was never seen,
The boy, the man, the travels lost, the way has never been,
So dark, with haze, with hopes ablaze, the old man sees the sea,
The child had grown, the man had lived, and here i have to be...


The Chocolate Cake

Rushed over at from around the corner; With a glimpse of a life-time...
A cup of coffee; Sunglasses; A subtle smile - so sublime,
Walking across the road; In red and white - I saw life passing me by,
Dazed !! I was dumbfounded, with no earth below my sky !!...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Expectations - Excerpt from my novella

Ever since he knew it, from childhood through his teens and even as a man of 25 he never could meet the expectations of father. He would be the best in his class but it was never good enough. He would do excellent at work but it was never good enough!! What John later realized, and what he wrote down in his dairy, both amazed and made sense to me -

"When I walked, I was supposed to run,
When I ran, I was supposed to fly...
Every want was a surprise; A shock,
Every want an impossible lie...

I fell, stood up; Fell again and rose...
Never let a faltering step too close,
I did; overdid; I succeeded as well,
Still had no clue what want he shows...

I would have prospered but I failed,
I could have run but I stumbled...
Expected to do more than expected,
At every next syllable I fumbled..."


When did I begin?

Just sitting and wondering about life and its ways ... what would I be ? ... What could I have been ? ... Questions ... Just questions ... No answers ... I shout out into the dark night of my mind and silence is all that echoes back. Wonder what I am ? Yes I wonder that ... I wonder in retrospect... I wonder in foresight... I wonder in silence and I wonder out aloud....

Still ... silence... just a quantum of emptiness ... that's all ... nothing more ? Is there nothing more ? I ask again ... and the skies .. dark ... shades of irregular clouds ... perhaps nimbus ... stare at me as if mocking my expectations of an answer.

I sit down on the grass and I look back in time... 1 day ago ... a week ago ... a month ago ... an year? ... a decade ? ... Was I the same then ? Was I different ? Would I have spoken out then ? Would I be silent today ?

I sucked at football. I am better at it now. I was so happy. I suck at it now... How did it happen ? And more importantly when ? When did I lose that bespectacled silent boy murmuring mathematics and computer programming problems in sleep ? When did I find this boisterous self ... so deep within the curls of vacuum that sometimes there is no air to breathe ? There is no mathematics ... no peace ... no silence ... so much of chaos ... and more of it creeping in every day...

Where did I begin ? I ask myself so often... that I have lost the charm of the challenge of answering that ... I do not know is all I have said ... every day till now... Now - I want an answer ... Where did I actually begin ? Was it roughly 23 years ago when I was born ? Or around 9 years ago when I moved into our new house ? Or was it 7 years ago when the "First big mistake" happened ? Or 5 years ago when I moved to Calcutta ? Or sometime in the blurred intermediates of these landmarks ? Have I begun yet...

To be very honest ... I do not know ... I have no clue ... If I am yet to begin living or if I have already lived my share of life ! Some say that I am done... some say I am yet to begin... I feel ... maybe its somewhere in between... I know not and yet I know ... what I have lost and what I have gained... gained more ? or lost more ?

I know how it is to feel like giving your everything to a cause... to a dream.. a thought... a person ... a whim !! ... And I know how it is to lose it all... And then I also know how it is to stand there and watch life moving across and feeling nothing at all about it...

Tuesday, January 24, 2006


The talent of a man is not all for himself,
But for his world and his days on earth,
And so a man walks and lives and does things,
Like a showman, like a performer, walking a tight rope,
Hanging on, not just for himself,
But for all those around, looking at him with hope...

Friday, January 20, 2006

Like it is meant to be

This is an old one ... found it in my old collection... Thought I would share it...

Somethings are just meant to be that way
Like missing pieces of broken glass
Like shadows beneath the glow of lights
Like hard rock with the extra bass...

We don't explain why the sun has to shine
Confessions can always end up in a line
Love needs no gold to say its there
For when it is love its always fair...

We don't have to call out their names
To make them turn and smile again
I don't have to turn around to see
If she knows already its no one but me

It is just the way it has always been
These things remain, unread, unseen
The way they are - they always be
It was that once it happened to me...

And i felt over things that be in our lives
Like tables, chairs and cooking knives
Like love for those where love we have
And love again for those we don't...
The things that are meant to be that way
Like clockwork, each moment, every day

- Anubhav

Making a wall

Another very old one... wrote it a couple of years ago

Have been thinking so long of building a wall
Been getting the bricks when hanging the call
And with no one to love i'll move in alone
With gardens of rocks and feelings of stone

And be alone, for thats how it is meant to be
Cuz whenever i love, there is nothing i see
I dont how, i dont why, it has to be, i have to cry
And be alone and wait, till its time to say good bye
I just have no reason to live out and stay,
For its been all so long to cry all the way,

So am moving within my own wall to sing,
The old rhyme about the little gold ring,
To forget the tears that made me to fall
Am building a hope, am making the wall,
The wall is a lie, to make me believe,
That love is around, beyond i perceive...

But life is a lie or it would not be
The story it is, of no love and me
And making the wall would end up as wrong
And there would be no tears to end up this song...


Old Times Are Gone

Another one from 2003...

One day I looked back at what I had held on to,
Those days we spent, and the walks along the road,
And saw that it was all sand flowing away with time,
And I saw that life isn't like the old kid's rhyme,

And good things don't stay on forever,
That bad times do last for long,
Those days at college had to go,
And every next thing we do, goes wrong,

The spirit never dies but people do,
Those high fives and hugs and you,
Become parts of our albums and tv shows,
And she becomes a shadow of the rose,

Freak zones and rock music in the corridor,
And falling and rising up on the floor,
Like emotions we stuck together there,
Now we hardly have any thing to share,

You don't talk much to me... life sped,
Those days of stupid jokes are long dead,
I remember you kicking me with shoes,
When I told you were a used up fuse,

And now when I can talk for hours,
About russian ships and little flowers,
We don't have time to say hello,
We don't have places no more to go,

We'll walk on with life and forget our days,
The people we were, our love and ways,
But one day, I know I'll miss being in that rough weather,
And regret that we didn't spend our lives together...


Fading Colors

This one is from an older collection ... I wrote this sometime in early 2005

Why does the sky feel so dark tonight,
Why do the colors fade away from the light...

Why do you talk so silently, like a thousand miles away,
Your whispers don't feel like they did that summer day,
Why do you step away with my steps moving to you,
Why do you look at me like you never used to do...

All my desires dream to feel the lovely lane,
I want to take your hand into my hands again,

But still the sky feels so dark tonight,
And all colors fade away from the light...


Writing for life

I have been trying to talk to myself all these days and I found that my way of talking out my feelings is by putting them forth among the fragility of words and see them blend into ink and paper.

Trying to bind my feelings to words has always been a strange experience. Partly liberating and partly saddening. Liberating because it allows the feelings to ooze out into the physical world and saddening because it allows those feelings to manifest themselves so strongly that it trespasses into everything. An experience so very overwhelming that it dries you out sometimes. But the liberation makes all of it worthwhile!

So I set forth on my journey to gather the feelings from all the islands of emotions spread along the ocean of life. And I try to put down what I see and feel into words. Setting the infinite into the finite. Failing and losing the wind at times. Having the mast taut and sailing forth in sunny days at other times. The journey of words taking you through the journey of life.

It surprises to see how everything percolates down to black and white. From national democracy issues to personal touches and feelings, everything transforming into strange shapes. Ink merging into paper like lifeblood. Rain water making its mark on barren land and causing life to sprout forth. Green life from lifeless earth. Black shapes on white paper. Emotions flowing like rivulets across a black and white landscape. Lives sprawling in black on the plain whiteness of the void.

The magic of words is so very simple and yet it strikes pure awe every time I think of it. How strange little shapes lend themselves to be put into stranger forms. Shadowy life-forms crawling against the white paper. And at the end of it all the strangeness starts making sense. The essence of life captured and stored within the limits of a sheet of paper.

I sit down, thinking of it at times. Thinking how the life on paper reflects our lives in this world. Little colonies of black life-forms. Some relating together, bound and stuck to each other, making some sense and further loosely relating to many others to make greater sense! Making complete sense in totality.

So does our life. Loving people. Living with them. Relating and making sense in the smaller equations of life and making sense of it all in the bigger picture.

Captivating in its essence, unexplored in its raw reality.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Being with the moon

Sometimes I just sit and dream in the afternoon,
What is it like to be beyond vision like the moon?
Hidden away in a closet of daylight,
Waiting for the moment when it's night,
And come forth in the dark and shine,
Giving hope to the ones lost in time...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Bastards of Paradise - A short Story

The sun gleaming on his face, and little drops of perspiration forming on his forehead made him open his eyes. It was a bright day. He crawled out of his make-do cot. It was a pile of cardboard, paper and garbage. They called it a slum. It was his home. With so many others quite like him.

Another long day awaited him. The quest for feeding an impoverished body. The quest for satisfying a darting mind. His thoughts stretched from this end of the world to that, when he picked up his torn plastic bag. Not that his world was as big as ours. Not that he thought of New York and Paris. His New York was somewhere near Juhu. His Paris near Marine Drive. His bag had no mystery in it, just stale bread.

He was born in a beautiful land. With the seashores and the mountains. With the beauty of high rise buildings! With the silence of forests and high lands. He was born to people unknown. He knew not from where he came.

It was nothing strange for him. It was just normal. Just like his friends who lived and moved on with life. Maybe people with parents were abnormal. They were in the free laps of paradise. They were the bastards of paradise. They walked bare foot on the bodies of Mother Earth for that is the only mother they really know of! They collected garbage, sold garbage for money and ate garbage for food. Everyday when the sunshine hits his cot, he hits the road. With the little plastic bags by his side he sets up to gather his daily bread!

It was just another day for him. Along the road, with the cars and buses brazenly moving across the roads. With the men and women bolting all over the place. To work, to home and to family. He curiously watched all of it and walked along the pavement. Eyes set on piles of garbage. On 'good' days he managed to gather enough garbage to get him 10 to 15 rupees. He could eat on those days. On the rest of the days he had his 'daily bread'.

His gray shirt reflected the gray shades of the world around him. His torn trousers, the grace of some old lady from Hyderabad, hung over his bare feet. His big eyes contrasted his feeble frame. He looked like some wretched kid. He was a wretched kid!

The feeble feet, the burning earth, the walk across the streets,
The fumbling steps, the eyes all set, a dream of satin sheets...

There was a huge pile of garbage by the residential block around the corner. The high rises looked like monsters towering the landscape. Looking down at the lesser mortals walking on the roads. Not looking at the lesser mortals collecting garbage. The pile of plastic bags, litter, papers and what not? He looked around for something valuable. A fortune. Like a broken watch. "Wow! That would be so great. A watch.". He found some plastic boxes. Lots of paper sheets. A few worthless pens. No watch.

He sat down by the road. The sun was shining hard. It was a hot day. His shirt, contrasted with the colorful plastic bags lying around. Just like he contrasted with the colorful world around him. His eyes fell upon a torn up plastic bag of potato chips. A crushed can of Coke. The foods of the people of a world unknown!

There was much to be done. He still hadn't gathered enough of garbage. His stomach was on fire. Hunger initiating the flow of vicious acids into him. A red car zoomed across his vision. "Who needs to move that fast?". He did! Or else it would be another hungry day. He couldn't do with that. He needed some food. He took out the last piece of the stale bread and ate it. Was it bad? Nauseating?. No, it was manna! It didn't help his hunger though. He drank some water from a roadside tap. The heat was too much. The water eased him a bit.

He continued his walk to the next block of apartments. And the next...

A day in the life of a garbage collector can usually be very monotonous at best, but who cares about monotony? There is hunger to be satisfied. There is garbage to be collected. Not much of a space to think of trivial things as monotony!

There was another boy collecting some litter paper at one of the blocks. No point sharing a block's garbage. He moved on in another direction.

Another long day. Some garbage. Maybe 9-10 rupees. No watch. No fortune!

He was tired and sad. He carried his load to the buyer. His garbage was weighed. Everything at a go. Precious plastic boxes, separated out. No other valuables were to be found in his loot! He was handed a 10 rupees note. "Get lost boy." "But, What about the plastic boxes?" "Don't you want the money?" "Good night sir!"

He slumbered back to his house. The sun had set. The lights of the city shone all over. He could hear the see and listen to the voices in his head. "Get lost boy". "Go Away"... The hunger was unbearable. He dreamed of sitting by the sea and eating some food!

There was a roadside food vendor on his way back home. Good food. Rs. 15 only! "Costly food". "Maybe he will give some to me for Rs. 10 if I plead". "Maybe he is in good mood today and give me more". Ah! Dreams... How can they fly?”

The boy whom he saw earlier that day. The other garbage collector. He saw him, eating away the lovely food. He had found a broken watch on that block!

He turned his eyes back to food vendor and looked at the 10 rupees note. He would give it a try. He stepped down the pavement to cross the street. His eyes were fixed on the food vendor shop. His hunger was too much now. He could not walk. He stumbled on the road.

He sighted a speeding truck. It hit him, and passed on. No one noticed. He writhed in pain. Too much of blood flowing from his head. He wanted to cry out aloud. He could not speak. He could breathe no more.

Another rag picker...

No More Tears

Yet another old one ... this one was written around 2003 as well

Let's hold our hands and say good bye
To all thats been our reasons to cry
And let's forget the things to come
Some days from now the earth will die...
Let's not think of tomorrow again
For now we are, beneath the sky...

We love the things we have since dawn
We know little stories to smile upon
We have our joys to last for lives
Its time the times to cry be gone

Let's kiss again and say good bye
To sad stories of the weeping sky
Let's forget that we have to part
For all shall part with time gone by
And let's call life, the time we have
And when we part we say we die

We love this day, the days ahead
With roses of white, pink and red
We share the love we have so loved
We know we love till we are dead

Let's have no tears till when we die
Let's live and love and never cry
Just live and wait till our time is up
Then smile with love and say good bye...


A wall to a wall

When a wall has to hear, what a wall has to say
When the heart needs a soul, to keep the dusk at bay
And you know that for once, you will end up alone
And the days would just go, like a show that was shown
You will smile at the stars, when you look up at the sky
And you'll wait for the sun, till the day that you'll die

And you go and you laugh and you cry with the wall
And you smile all across when your heart begins to fall
And it stops once for you, like the madness on the way
And a wall comes up to hear what a wall has to say...

But a soul never comes for the heart, it stays alone
Counting on the days for the show that was once shown
And you know what it is, since the day that you were born
That the days of the sun and the rainbows are all gone
And the clouds look at you like a lonely wall to wall
And you cry once at last, when your heart has had the fall

And the birds and clouds, keep hanging all the day
And keep listening like a wall, what a wall has to say...
For the day has to go and the feelings say good bye...
So don't laugh and don't smile, there is no need to cry...


Monday, January 16, 2006


Moving, fluttering, flying, coloring up the air,
An air of happiness - a life without a care...
A shot of joy and arbitrary moves all across the place,
In their ambiguous steps, there is a sense of grace...
A stop at the daisies for the morning tea !
A rush over the lilies in a merry spree...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Saturday, January 14, 2006

The Final Sunset

Glowing ambers in my heart, a deep emotion reflect,
- The silence that I hold on to, the sound that I deflect...
Bright afternoons; Naps and tea; Dreams of a golden dawn,
A few hours past, at sunset, each dream of mine is gone...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”

Wednesday, January 4, 2006

The Road

A never-ending course of life - Of travels, miles and days...
Blue skies above my head - my way - a shade of grays...
Bends, curves, diversions - The choices that I have made,
The road is where I lived - The road is where I played...

This poem is a part of the collection in my book “Across the wall of my mind”