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”