Monday, October 20, 2008

Finding home

9:30 AM, Frankfurt Airport, Terminal 1. Gate A 65
It is cold here in Germany. Cold as you imagine the word to be. I have a rather sore throat and am already missing home terribly. I am not sure if it is the illness, the distance or the place but I do not feel good. Not as of now. Lonely is one thing that I hate to feel and that is exactly what I am feeling. A tickling feeling, butterflies in the stomach, a pulsating head or an aching heart – you name it and I have it!

Tracking back a day in time, I was with my girl, my friends and in a place that I am attached to. A rather clichéd remark comes to mind (but as I told someone a few days ago, sometimes at the right moment a cliché is the apt thing to say or do) – Sometimes we don’t realize how important some things are to us until they are not around. When the touch-feel-see proximities are violated and the time-space quantum separates you out...

Slowly but steadily, the earnest reality of the moment sinks in and you look around to see people you do not know, to hear languages that you do not understand (apart from the occasional danke and guten morgen)... You start enumerating more than your brain is supposed to process – The philosophical context of the phrase "feel at home", the surreal feeling of almost not existing, how shiny the floor is, the rivets in some of the walls remind you of the "German war machine" that you read about so long ago, the silver foils covering the air ventilation ducts, the fact that more people around you are wearing brown shoes than black shoes - The fragments of moments from the past coalescing with your present in excruciating bonds...

10:09 AM, Frankfurt Airport, Terminal 1. Gate A 65
After being hustled out for check-in all the passengers were sent back to where we were sitting! Efficient usage of space or pointlessness – I am not sure. So here I am, around 20 feet away from where I was 20 minutes ago. Closer to the glass windows which are letting in some sun, I am feeling slightly warm and better. The endless enumeration of the world though, still continues. The sun or perhaps the boredom has triggered a bit more of chit-chat around here and this place seems to have received a fresh inoculation of life!

I can see at least 7 aircraft outside the window, some parked and others being pulled around by tow trucks. And here comes another one landing down. The asphalt, concrete and rubber uniting with an unpleasant screech... The airport vehicles moving up to the newly arrived craft... The smaller vehicles that are carrying officials moving at faster paces, the buses giving way to the vans – Organized chaos!

A silent crane in the distance seems to be staring back at everyone looking at it, reminiscent of its might perhaps. An old broken building lying at its feet, the old consumed to make way for the new... The laws of nature and mankind, instantly evident, almost revealed...

There are more people coming in and this place would now seem to be qualified to be called crowded – or not? Why not? Well simply because even with so many people there seems to be some kind of a wall or may I say some great barrier in an unknown dimension separating them out.

And well the mythical high in the life energy levels seem to have subsided sooner than I had imagined them to. It is almost as silent as it was in my college third year ‘Electronics’ classes. Which I witnessed perhaps just once or twice but it was disturbing to sit in such a silent class!

Nostalgia is just one of the several things wrecking my brains as of now. Wrecking maybe too harsh a word so let’s stick with ‘passing through’... The organized chaos outside of the window continues like clockwork...

The announcements have been made and the journey must continue. On to Seattle for now...

Monday, October 6, 2008

Quotes by Me

"There is a thin line between irrational and pointless"

"If you wait for the fresh green pea whose surface area is a whole number then you will just end up waiting to join Euclid in the afterlife"

"Eventuality is boring. Be weird - Save the world!"

"I thought that I was trespassing the bandwidths and was landing up in someone else's modulated section"

"Ah! Jobs always stink. They are there to pay for the perfumes"


Saturday, October 4, 2008

Puppets - You & I

Sometimes when I hold out my hand,
I grab some air, some dreams,
Some lost speeding wagon from,
The train of thoughts I yield,
And breathtaken speaks to me,
He who has no heart to share,
And he who has shared all of his...
Spared victims of vice, love,
Convicted fairies stand, close,
Holding on to the threads,
That they suspend in ether,
Puppets move, puppets fly,
They flinch and puppets die,
Smeared faces, teary eyes for us,
As they sing the funeral songs,
For the puppet fairies and I,
Hold on to something and hope,
Its not a thread, just air.


Friday, September 19, 2008

Khoj laana tum khushi ko

khoj laana tum khushi ko apne uss jahaan sei,
hain jahaan par pariyon ke shahro ke jharoke,
aur laana pal mei tum daal kar khushbu bhi,
fir chalenge geeto par hum sawaar hoke...
nanhe raaju ke haatho mei khelta khilaona,
aur tu tina, tu kyu aise baithi hai chup hoke,
chal aa jaa ab hum sunaa dei apni ye kahani,
aur dil ki baatei bol dei bindaas sei hoke...
kya darna hai in logo ki mote chashmo sei ab,
akhbaro ke peeche chupte naraaz ye kyun hoke,
aao poochhei insei hum ki insei upar kya hai,
kyu hai inke aaju baaju rehte itne dhoke...
arre aao lekar khushi ko apne uss jahaan sei,
hain jahaan par pariyon ke shahro ke jharoke...


Tu saraab hai ya dhoka

bada bechain nazro mei khamoshi ka sabab rehta,
na usse bolte hain hum na wo humsei hai kuchh kehta,
kabhi kulfat nahi hoti aqeedat ka toh pairaahan,
jo aansu tham ke rehta tha wo kaise hai abhi behta...
sitamgar tu badaa kaafir bana jaata hai kyun aise,
ki ab aahat bhi hoti hai, toh sannata nahi rehta,
mushtahir hai bada teri ada-on ka bayan-e-gam,
tera khayal-o-zikr bhi sukoon ka hai nahi rehta...
tu aakhir cheez hai toh kya, koi saraab ya dhoka!
khwaabo mei toh aata hai, par nazro mei nahi rehta.


Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The other side of the mirror

A drop of dew against my face,
That shows through the mirror,
I wipe it clean, subtly, slowly,
With the tips of my fingers.
Lingering a moment too long -
Against my wrinkling forehead,
Or least, what looks like mine!
Smeared with stories & days,
Nights full of dreams, lush -
Thoughts and fervid forms,
Engaged in the thoroughfares,
Of the mundane, the nascent -
Silences and forming sounds,
That shape into long held
Memories; Spoken, forgotten.
You becoming you for once,
I being I as only I can be!
Striking similarities - none,
And yet so many to find...
In the world that stares back,
Into my eyes from the eyes -
On the other side of the mirror.

-Anubhav K

I aspire

A little piece of sunshine,
Or a shady dusk at hand...
I aspire to become me,
While you find reasons
To walk your dreams.
Take a stroll with me,
Run, hide, run, dance,
Take a bit of that chance,
To redeem your hopes,
Cherish your destiny,
Step aside while you do...
For I must walk past,
To the sunrise due east,
The one that I inspire.

-Anubhav K

Saturday, September 6, 2008

I have always wanted to be

Sprightly and ever so brightly,
I leap into the reflection of me -
That holds my hands as free,
As I have always wanted to be!

Streaming forth my thought tunnels,
Is a beam of light, immense,
It its expanse and calidity,
Bouncing on its musical spree.

To find itself across the page,
Just beyond the lucid full-stops,
That make me pause and see,
My blurred form seeking clarity...

Staring off to the other side,
Of the coloured window panes,
I notice the pale, old oak tree,
Its arms extended in a decree -

Calling my name with the breeze,
Asking me to hold retrospect -
Close to my hope, next to my plea,
And to ask myself before I flee...

Away to the world that I occupy,
From sunrise to dusk and beyond,
And I hold my hands as free,
As I have always wanted to be, me.


Thursday, May 29, 2008

Life breaking through

Pencil on paper. (HB and 2B on standard A4 drawing paper)
Depicting the daylight of life as one of my friends puts this scene as. Becoming the greater marvel that we know from the sum total of its parts... Life exclaims and amazes... Life breaks through...

The wooden lady

Pencil on paper (HB & 2B on standard A4 drawing sheet).
Depicting the inability of the woman to express her emotions despite the millions of mysteries in her locked up eyes.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Happy blogging

So today I managed to hit the "200 posts" lamp-post by the side of the blogging road. Well in the sheer absence of any readers or atleast ones that I know of, I pat myself on the back and say "Way to go!"...

I would take this opportunity to thank the illusion of readers that the Internet creates and that continuously nudges me to write, edit, write, edit and so on to improve on the quality of 'work' that I produce... Over the years I believe it has led to many such incessant rants - Like the one here

Nonetheless, I believe this milestone will probably inch me towards producing more text per day, more photographs per month and some more illustrations. I will keenly follow the interests of my illusionary readers and perhaps try to feed their endless curiosity and want for literary as well as visual arts to satiate the thirst that they build up over weeks, months or years...

So happy blogging it is and hope that it will continue to be so...

The play with light

The sun peeping through the clouds hidden behind the silhouette of a tree... That was some moment. One worthy of closing shutter's attention. This is one of the photos from my recent escapades and attempts with the camera as an expression medium. You can look at some others at

Wednesday, April 30, 2008


She's amazement - I am just the one in awe,
Silly smiles, hands held, eyes towards the sky -
Dreams leading to dreams, hopes held high.
There's more to life, I see, there's more to me,
I realize, when I look into her eyes, silently...
Not blue but just a deeper shade of black,
The one that you would rather be lost in,
But she helps me find my way back to her,
Holding my hands while I say my prayers,
To whatever powers that made us be!
For I know that I couldn't walk the walk,
Or talk the talk with cheeky notes & smiles -
If it wasn't for the wonder that she is...
The good that she inspires, makes me, me!


Monday, April 28, 2008

Point me to heaven

I stumble and then I ask for the way,
For someone to sway and answer -
To take a moment's pause but for me!
A while and no more is all I yearn for,
Turn for, in my ethereal hinted sleep,
And I hope for someone to tilt -
Their wise head, tip-toe to the edge -
Of the tar road and point their fingers,
Not to the sky but to somewhere near,
And whisper in my eager left ear…
Take that way; Straight to heaven!


Saturday, April 26, 2008


Flights of fantasy lead me to an abyss beneath my thoughts,
Layered under my skin, skimpily clothing my vulnerabilities!
Breathless I be or become! Gasping for air when I jump…
Into the hypochondria of awareness, I lie awake and lost.
Looking at the sun outside the window space in the wall -
That I had so earnestly built around myself; My abode!
I feel the warmth glowing inside me, beyond the darkness -
That had so freely smeared itself on my trifle extents!
I see three birds flying gracefully across the calm clear sky,
Turning heads as they drift past each other, silent sarcasm -
The need to win; The greater need to have the others lose!
They float over two flowers as they fade away into the blue,
The flowers basking in the warmth, glowing in a subtle way,
Togetherness, alone in the vast void expanse of silence,
In a brittle moment held together by a little more than hope…
A hundred yards away from the silhouette of a lonely tree,
Overlooking the vivid fading world around its potent self,
And I looking at it, the smiling flowers and the flying birds,
The fading birds, the content flowers and the aging tree…
Then a little pause and I look at my own distant self,
The convergent reality of the moment slowly sinking in.


Thursday, March 27, 2008

The morning sunset

From beyond the subtle notes of surreal truth,
A certain dawn beckons itself to manifest…
In the octaves of my imagination or otherwise -
To find itself an abode to dwell and flourish.
Or perhaps to perish in curtained pretence,
With the silks flowing on decaying bodies…
Finding note after note to rest their lies on.
A music springs forth thereof, to be heard,
In the hollow halls of proven hypochondria…
The ilk that forms a cocoon to hide reality,
With renegade scars as the only hints to undo,
That which perhaps cannot be undone now -
That which perhaps must be challenged!
With a question unto the scars once more,
That must tunnel through to reality or such,
With a resolve made with clenched fists,
To no more believe in the morning sunset!

- Anubhav

Thursday, February 28, 2008

The boy who was my brother

I have known him for a long time. And with time i have grown to like him more and more. John is my brother. And I have been his window to the world. Together we share a lifetime of love, friendship and more.

When John was young he would often walk up to me and ask me to go to the river. Run on the banks and play in the sand. He was so fascinated with the flow of the river. His eyes had a sparkle of excitement on those sands. He wanted to flow like a river.

He dreamed like a poet; of the river and the yellow flowers and the many other things he held close to his heart. About the many "No"'s that life turned his way and about the several "Yes"'s which passed by as well. You could feel it all flowing through the veins in his bloodstream. His thoughts racing all over the place, his face flushing with hope. His fidgeting fingers unwrapping the mysteries of a little daffodil; one petal at a time. His chair rocking in the sun. His vision fixed on the fence and the dried up flower pots that lay near it. His mind trying to look for something in the parched earth, something so very precious. Something that time had taken its toll upon. Something which was no more.

He would pick up a small paper and fold it into a flower like shape. Then he would smile! And looking at it again, he would pass over into another world. And tears would mark his vision. Later he would put that paper flower on the window sill and look at it for hours. He would talk to me about the river which was no more the same, about the pathways that were no more the same and about our lives which were no more the same.

He would get up from that chair and start walking around, and then he would turn to me. Looking into my eyes he would speak of the years gone by and of the things that were lost in the transient world around us. Passing us by like people on a busy street. He was John and those were his muses...

Sometimes i think of the many things that John said and of the many other things that he didn't say. I turn over the pages of his notes and maybe I become him for while. I start thinking like him. Thinking about the chances that we take in life, the experiments that we do with reality that make us see the raw face of life. The truth that I see, that John saw, makes me shiver and shrug. I just sit and think, maybe just like he would. About how we decieve ourselves into loving things that we once abhorred. About how we dream of pleasant sunrises and bubbly brooks from our high rise office apartments and how we think of love while reading coffee table illustrations.

Ironic as it may be but we seem to have forgotten all those dreams that we once held so close to ourselves. Everyday we see people walking along the road, some smiling and some looking worried. Everyday we recieve phone calls from friends with varied stories. Some happy and others sad, and we talk on, and we go on. Living our lives as if this is what it is. Our capability to be unfaithful even to our ownselves captivates me and stuns me. Everyday we seem to be getting farther from our innocent dreams and everyday we tell ourselves that we are getting towards better things in life.

It's everyday that we push our true selves down the dark alleys of yesterdays. It's everyday that we make ourselves see the world through ostentation and deceit.
It is not everyday that we feel the cool breeze with the smell of freshly mowed grass pass through our hair. It is not everyday that we feel the touch of true faith and young dreams of our past. It is not everyday that we feel the purity of a soul that we held so dear to our hearts long time back. It is not everyday that we meet someone like John Duff.

He was a simple man. An average man. Someone who believed in the simplicity of his dreams. Someone who followed the truth of his soul all through his life. Someone who smiled when the flowers in his backyard bloomed and who cried when one of them withered. Someone whose heart flowed with the river...
Someone who could love and laugh so honestly. Someone who could hold your hand and walk all through your life with you, from this end to that. Someone who could conjure up paper flowers and feel so passionately about them. I met him, that was destiny. Something that changed so many things. My feelings, my views... maybe my life!

To me he wasn't really like a brother born to the same parents as me. To me he was a friend, someone who became a brother through the time of that life which we shared. Today is the 27th of June, the day that John died, an year ago. Life without John, is strange and lonely, but there are so many things to remember. He lives on somehow and many times i find myself talking to him, smiling with him... living with him. The diaries on the table, the photographs at my desk, they all add up to bring John back to me.

I live in here alone and so John just comes by to be with me in my lonely days, to stay with me through the dusk of my life. It is so much like John to do it, being when you are needed and vanishing when you are not. He has always bewildered me. Always made me wonder. The other day i found a thick set of diaries and letters inside John's old trunk. So many things, I never could have known or figured out the whole of it. The grey picture of John life. The missing colors. The thick edges confined by the torn paper. It was so hazy and so blurred. It was so vivid and alive.
So many letters. I never knew someone could write so many to John. Not that he wasn't interesting. Just that he never let people wander so close to him. I never knew John could write so many to someone. Paper flowing with ounces of emotions. So many words and yet so few. For a man who was so full of words. For a man who was so silent to the world.

There were strange notes. Long letters. Several pieces of poetry. It was something so fresh. To get to know John again. To get to read through his thoughts. They filled in the gaps, cleared the doubts and made John come around clearer than ever. It seems that it is only now that i really know my brother. It seems it is now that i can talk about him... that now i know him truly as John that really was and not as John that seemed to be!

One of the notes is a simple piece paper, small, around the size of a regular envelope. Scribbled in John's hand are a few lines, that set the story going in my mind, all over again-
"When the dusk has come and the darkness seen, When the day has lived to what it has been, Just walk over by my side, and keep them there, My flowers, my daffodils, my lifeless affair... "

His flowers. His friends. His life. All mingled into a piece of paper. Staring at me so blankly. Asking me questions. Making me weak at the knees. I knew I had to read everything. Remember everything. Relive everything. Just for once, but I had to do it. Pick up the pieces lost around the corners that we turned so sharply. Fixing up the inconsistencies that time and silence had left in the picture. Make it complete. Make John come back and sit on the window sill and talk to me...

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Poets who blog

Check out for interesting poets who blog. There is a lot of nice and interesting work that I found linked from there. It is a really good blog to bookmark if poetry is your forte.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Calm distress (from my book)

Quiet paths; somber tones; long forgotten dreams of you,
Silent voids; unfelt songs; Thoughts melting into the blue,
Ever said? Never heard! Lost into my craving dreams...
Loneliness; A dark retreat; Blend into some callous themes.
Fervor numbed! Love undone! Days lost in endless nights;
Buried spirits; fallen men; Violent and blood thirsty fights;
A dearth of smiles; Emotions scarce; the final end of nothingness,
Lost and found; Alive again; the dream of more, the life of less...
Rimless cauldrons of boiling hate rising into our lives,
The young man loved; Lost; The old man - now he strives...
Cold calidity of passions long lost into his graves,
Calm distress - All he needs; Squanders all he saves...


The shallow river of my mind (from my book)

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...
It is sometimes just a shallow river -
- In my mind, silently murmuring words.
Speaking to me and I to the world,
Retrospect’s of long lost days - today,
The river and time silently passing away...
What questions does it ask in starry nights?
What answers do I have? Do I have any answers?
The depth of my emotions flowing shallow -
In the shallow river in my mind...

- Anubhav

Cognitive silence (from my book)

Silence; Impeccable; Cognitive;
Reflecting sounds from within,
Sacred thoughts inside your head,
edging you to a greater sin,
Merging words; Muffled noise;
Grey shades of summer nights,
Fickle ways; A mellow song,
drift into the fading lights,
Can I speak? Will I be heard?
Is my whisper loud enough?
A clouded phrase and nothing said,
It smoothes into the rough...
Shrouded hopes; Hazy roads;
Steps follow the steps ahead,
Tired; Restless; Lost in the void,
Alive long after I am dead...


Darkness (from my book)

End of days; No last respite; Fragments of nothingness;
What life conjures? Strange forms in shadows to recess,
Holding on to the hands of darkness I walk into the light,
But the shadows move all over and the wrong becomes the right,
With frightened eyes, I look around to find my long lost grace,
It burns on top the altar, and shines in shades of grays,
The warriors run with armors, and swords are thrown across,
And whispers ask to whispers, who’s gain and who’s this loss,
Amidst the flames of darkness, I see the shadows roam,
I hide within my thoughts and I run to find my home,
I crash with every step I take, I move back to where I was,
And someone tells me not to move till all the darkness thaws,
I see a huge gray armored horse, with knights of shadows trot,
I see more death and destruction, when I feel I've seen a lot,
They move around and I sit and wait for the long forgotten dawn,
And then I feel some blood on me, I die and I am born...

- Anubhav

In the light of darkness (from my book)

In the light of darkness I walk across the streets,
Muffled sounds of silence as loud as bass drum beats,
Steps behind my steps, when I walk away from me,
Fingers pointing sky-wards ask what the world would be...
Summer winds brushing through my hair, speaking in my ear,
Clouds moving in the skies; sky is never getting clear,
Dust rising from the ground, look what have I just found,
With every backward step, I find nothingness around...
Making bonds with yesterday when today is flying by,
I have found no reasons yet; so do not ask me why?
I cannot see what comes, I see what has just gone,
I move back one more step to feel all the more withdrawn...
What's your final word to me? What's my unknown destiny?
Tell me what is it I did, to end up where I end to be?
Should I step one more step back? Should I find you once again?
Would you hold my hand once more? Would you dance with me again?


I stand in stillness (from my book)

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,
Calling for help, screaming aloud,
And silence echoing back at him...
I try again, to move my legs but I cannot move,
My eyes start closing and the darkness takes over,
I dream of the past, when I could run...
Run around the place, beat life at the race,
Smile at the dusk and go back to my home,
And today I stand in stillness, in silence, paralyzed...


Clouded vision (from my book)

There is silent way in which you move into my eyes,
I do not know if its you or if it is my heart that lies,
You move into my vision and you cloud up my thoughts,
I feel the world all silent even among the gun shots,
I feel so vulnerable when you move up in front of me,
I do not know whether to believe the love I see,
It is different, it is so silent and yet it is a storm,
Like a night full of darkness and a shadow taking form,
Unknown to the mind, the heart and eyes are lost,
Like a lonely warrior who is fighting in the frost,
I don't know if the blow upon my heart will make me dead,
I only know that through eyes, its me, the one who bled,
Silent darkness and you with the shadows all around,
I stand here entrapped, my heart and eyes all bound,
With you in my vision I do not know what else to see,
For with I do exist and without you I shall not be...


Green water (from my book)

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...
Whispering names to each other echoing with the rustling leaves,
Finding future in our reflections in the water,
And watching you walk off to your home while I receded away,
The dark nights reflecting the moon in the water,
The bright hues of your eyes calling my name,
And today I am watching reflections of yesterday in the green waters...


Murder on the deck (from my book)

"What questions?” asked the sailor, "Ho!"
"What questions?" asked the captain too,
"No man has stood up on that deck and questioned,
But a mighty few",
"You have a gun!” the captain checked,
"A fine steel blade", the sailor said,
The first mate ran all drenched in blood -
- With shades of cold and bloody red,
"What matter?" crooned the sailor then;
Wide eyed, the captain stood in shock,
"What matter lad?" the captain asked, all pale;
For he was an ad-hoc,
The captain that had sailed with them,
That captain was no more, to say,
For in the stores, below the deck,
That captain's cold blue body lay,
The man; squint eyed, stood there and saw,
The bloody lad go white and fall,
"I shot the captain twice today",
He said aloud and slammed the wall,
The captain that was now to be,
He trembled more than e'r before,
The sailor jumped and stared at him,
And all but crumbled on the floor,
"Aye, it’s me. I killed the man",
He said again in clear loud tones,
The men, they stood all petrified,
A shiver reaching down their bones,
"Murder!" squealed the sailor loud,
"Murder!" gasped the captain too,
The captain shot him in the head,
The sailor shot him with the crew,
The man, he fell down on his knees –
- And looked around the noisy crew,
He lived and questioned on that deck,
he was one of the mighty few...


Frozen yesterday (from my book)

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,
Unknown forces of the cosmos manifested -
- In the river of yesterday, the river of life...
Today it lies still, speaking no words,
In the quiet of the night, reflecting silence,
No whispers are now heard, no effervescence...
Glimmering like glass in the sun,
Golden hues all around it and yet no life...
There is certain stillness in this frozen river.


Doubts of the soul (from my book)

Summer slit into the mind, effervescent with heat,
Like a bubbling marsh, smelling of dead carcasses,
Mundane but surreal, petrified and paralyzed,
Must time ask permission, to halt and move on...?
Like a surrogate parent, attached and yet so far,
Blasphemous in perspectives, to an unknown end,
Filing in disorder, a replication of some chaos,
It stacks up and disorganizes all known order,
To the final judgment day, boiled in a cauldron-
- of hatred, hypochondria and doubts of the soul...


It's been taken (from my book)

Fragments; of Me and of the thoughts crawling in my head,
A part of my self retreating, realizing that I am dead,
Loose threads of imaginations funnel down my mind,
I look for a dream and there is nothing I can find...
I fumble for words; tumble down the stairs I had climbed,
Remnants of smiles scattered over with me entwined,
It’s a shard from the past; A decree that I ignored,
A loud sound I never heard; disorder restored...
Something's been taken away... its no more mine as it once was...
I can't figure out the damage or make out the loss,
But I can feel the emptiness creep within me,
It was fragile, sublime; taken; no more to be...


Renegade of hope (from my book)

Relegation of dreams; High hopes to fear of death!
Summers full of darkness; Winters with cold breath;
Errors; misdemeanors; repercussions; I depreciate!
Smiles - Forgotten; Lost; To pain I now relate...
I am a prisoner of thoughts; An error-prone device!
Supple; Tender; Damaged; From dusk to sunrise...
Redressal for delights; Pathos in silk attire...
No regard for my blessings; The curses - I do admire!
I am the end of dreams; The final, dreaded thought,
The wound; Disease and darkness; Left undone to rot...
I smell the void; I live the void; In void I do exist;
I put on wars with laughter; Grief - I don't resist.
I walk; I stop; I dream, forget; With pain I do elope!
I am lost in my own darkness like a renegade of hope...


The soldier at dusk (from my book)

Alone, with his eyes fixed to the horizon,
Dreaming of home, of the lush green lawns...
Of his wife knitting soft wool in the winter sun,
And the giggling voices his kids playing around her,
Alone, with his heart floating far away...
He sits squatted with his gun on his shoulders,
And remembers the weight of his boy -
He must have grown now, heavier, older...
His hands feeling the rough butt of the gun,
The feeling of the sand on his hands,
And the sun gleaming into his eyes,
He questions himself and his dreams question us...
His still shadow in the dusk, reassuring us,
Of a safe sleep while he stays awake...
Remembering life, watching it quietly pass him by,
He stands on guard with his sons growing old in the letters...


Another painful recess (from my book)

What am I? The summer heat? The winter cold?
Effervescence of sadness quietly re-told ?
A bubbling marsh of death; pain; destruction;
A fallen angel; Risked again for resurrection...
I touch gold; Turn it to dust; clay; ash;
Why am I so rough? Unreasonable and rash...
I walk into a room full of light; So alive!
It turns dark; For darkness I now strive...
I aspire; perspire; ambitions of nothingness;
Revered thoughts of hurt; another painful recess...


While your darkness shone (from my book)

Final thoughts, light; dark; sunrises after sunsets;
When it begins; when it ends; Smiles and unfelt frets;
I said - went quiet; I felt; forgot; Did you say or did I dream ?
You danced with me when it was dark; Reality; It would seem....
Heartfelt thoughts; Apologies; Obligations of a heart so alone...
Forgotten dreams; Apprehensions; To hatred I am prone...
I stepped; I fell; Got up; Fell again; Livid, fermented thoughts;
I stand in noise; silence of the mind; while reality rots...
Aggravated; Understood; Appreciated; Forgotten; Grim;
I see love rise from ashes; hatred filling up to the brim....
The last stand of my truth; Me; You; Us; Together; Alone....
It went dark after the sunrise... While your dreams in the darkness shone....


Taste for red (from my book)

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...
I have the want to hold life so close -
That I can feel it whisper insanity,
I have the want to feel the rough grains -
On the surface of the wall of my dreams,
I want the sweet sounds to slide in my ears,
I have a want for the beautiful - for life,
I have a want for love as a sinful surprise,
I have a greed - a taste for the red...


Dreams and rains (from my book)

Little boys running around with paper boats in hands,
Rain drops falling all over; dreams of distant lands...
A little boy with red laced shoes, runs over to splash his mate,
The little girl with ribbons blue, swings over across the gate...
The merry moods; the laughing sounds; gray and cloudy skies;
The running kids; the little jokes and stupid funny lies....
The quarrels over the green boats; the shouts and dirty shirts,
The talks of pirate ships; Islands; Huge yellow flying birds...
The sunsets at the parks; Football; Little wounds to show at home;
The never ending talks at dinner; The dreams to go to Rome...
The squeaky sounds; The whispers heard; Little lively smiles;
The sights of love and laughter; Go on for miles and miles...


Silent waters (from my book)

Summer sunsets; noises fading into the night,
Silent quarters on the deck; a flickering ship light,
The sailors looking at the sea; silent waters retrospect...
The shadows of the moving boat; shadows of the mind reflect,
Thoughts of their distant homes; the children in the yard,
Dreams forgotten yesterday; Remembrance struggling hard,
The steps they took; set sail away, to an unknown place,
The sea reflecting in the waves; a shimmering smiling face...


Let me speak (from my book)

If I had to be quiet, silence would not be the same,
There would be no questions asked; No thoughts about your name,
There would be no wonders in laughter; we would be all alone...
There would be no stories of young days - Of how we all have grown,
We would hold our hands and there would be no words said -
I would be lively in sight; In your mind I would be dead,
What would become of my whispers that echo in your mind,
The crazy shouting days; A dream that's left behind -
We don't want to lose on life so don't ask me to be quiet...
Don't hold my thoughts in chains - give them the wings of flight!!


Sojourn of my thoughts (from my book)

My mind did sail in the stream -
Flowing with the wind, ushered by the waters,
Empty decks on the ship with silent empty quarters,
Left the ports long ago - floating in the unknown,
Surrounded by loud clouds yet walking all alone...
The haze building up at dusk, night crawling close,
Illusions of my dreams - I see what life thus shows -
My heart with words unsaid, tears in my eyes,
The silent notes slip by - reflect in the skies,
Twinkling with the stars, staring through the haze...
My dreams captured by her spell - Abashed - Ablaze...


A few dead men (from my book)

Behold the sounds of footsteps, creeping on you from behind,
A shallow growl of darkness – a mark of death – unsigned…
Shadows taking forms, crawling men with guns on their backs,
Shocking lights; Pungent smells; Eyes staring from the shacks…
Some near dead and dying men - screeching deep notes of pain,
And the Major at command shouts to take the bridge again,
We walk at night and hide at dawn, merry men of yesterday…
These eyes reflect fear and death, the dreams they held have gone away…
Gunshots; Running footsteps; Wounded men gasping for air…
Bleeding wounds, clouded eyes – is the vision that we share,
And the major shouts again, we run to take the bridge once more,
We struggle, fall and crawl again, like fishes dying on the shore,
The sounds of death go on and on; the end shall come – we know not when…
They shoot, we shoot – they die, we die; A win; A loss; a few dead men…


The road (from my book)

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...
Underneath my feet, before my sight, it goes before I go,
It paces when I show haste - slows down when I go slow...
It knows where I commence and shows where I conclude,
The road is my character, the road is my prelude !!
Gray shades with reflections of our shadows in the sun,
Footsteps tapping on the earth; Life is on the run...
It begins before where we start, and ends beyond our end,
The road I traveled yesterday - The road I now transcend.


The final sunset (from my book)

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...
A flickering lamp outside the door and a fire within my heart,
Resonate with the other - each playing its unsaid part...
The red sky glooms with gray clouds hanging all around...
While I sit on the chair thinking of what I lost and found.
Silence again, within my mind, outside in the dark skies,
A distant bird chirp, unheard - an echo of my surprise...
A dawn; A sunrise, Another day comes around with a smile,
And it fades away at the sunset - My last fumbling mile...


Butterflies (from my book)

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...
And lazy afternoons on the roses red,
At dusk they sleep on a moonflower bed !!
Soft like silk, smooth like the breeze...
Wings like velvet without a crease...
Imagination manifested in shades of blues,
Green, red, yellow and lilac hues...
A reflection of the stars in the skies...
What wonder they are? Butterflies !!!


Being with the moon (from my book)

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,
Spreading light when its needed by us all,
Never caring for the night and the fall,
From being seen to the oblivions of death,
And I feel life waiting for my last breath,
To get a chance to fly off to the skies,
And see the moon beyond the sunrise,
Just to be like a star in the day,
Unknown, unseen, hidden away,
Then wait for the sun to be gone,
And shine with the moon till the dawn...


Flickering dreams (from my book)

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,
Dreams of the past, of today and of the days to come,
Shining in their own paths, lighting up a day or two,
And then being pushed back to their spots,
Mixing and yet unblended, curves and rigid shapes...
Flickering for attentions, dreams in silent stillness!


Blood in the rain (from my book)

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...
I still see the tears roll up her eyes
I still feel the chill up my spine this day
I wanted to hold her up in my arms
I stood back with the tears in the way...
I could see the rain fall down on her love
I could see the blood flowing into the sands
I could feel the loss of something so close
I stood in the rain like in the barren lands...
Someone was killed and someone did die
The night engulfed the light once again
And she stood there with her hair flowing by
And I moved on, ahead, in the dripping rain...


The chocolate cake (from my book)

Rushed over at from around the corner; With a glimpse of a lifetime...
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!!
Like a swift breeze of winter, with the fragrance of wild roses,
Like a dream within a dream, that life to me discloses...
I walked as if transfixed, hypnotized by silent beauty,
Its unbelievable; True; Until you see what I did see!
She turned around the corner - I ran with all my speed,
Emotions my brain transcend; New strength; Yes! Indeed...
And another satiating glimpse with room for more to crave!
I spent more emotions than I could ever save!!!
She stepped into the baker's shop, I followed her in tow,
I was just like Mary's lamb, to go where she would go!!
I saw her and the chocolate cake and the ring on her right hand,
I stood there - silent; Speechless; I stood where I still stand...


Silent and surprised (from my book)

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...
My hands moving on the wall, feeling the rough notes,
Left behind by time and by the crayons of the kids...
I feel a stir in my head, something so strong and pure,
Like silence mixed with the tones of a flute...
Creeping from all around and surrounding me in a dark light,
Flooding my inner thoughts with crooning voices of the past,
Astonished by my own desires to find peace in the void...
I look at the skies once more, silent and surprised.


Fade away (from my book)

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,
They don't come true; You do; You are the truth,
The mirage calls you; I understand; Turn around to life,
There is a world calling you with open arms,
That's their dream, which they dream when awake,
Walk into the lives that live by your name,
And let the dreams fade away, while you make dreams come true...

- Anubhav

I slipped and fell (from my book)

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...
On the blue and slippery tiles of love,
Landed on my face; Shocked; Surprised; Victorious!
I looked up, with a sheepish smile...
My eyes reflecting a humble tone of need,
Her hands reciprocating the grant of the same...
I stood up; Stood by her; Walked on with her,
Slept on the beaches, woke up on the mountains,
Perspired in the snow, drenched in the rains!
I still remember when I shot like a bullet,
I still love the moment when I slipped and fell...


Soldiers go home (from my book)

Walking home in their dreams and waking up to gun shots,
Merry songs on their lips, marching in the afternoon,
Silent thoughts creeping into their minds at dusk,
Falling asleep with the thoughts of going home in the dark...
Soldiers far away, soldiers of our lands...
Masked in smiles, their hearts longing to see their loves...
Uniformed to the hilt, guns in their hands, walking men,
Facing bullets off the mark for all of us, dying men...
Hidden behind letters, their silent faces call,
"Soldiers, go home" "Go home to your love"...


A rocky mountain (from my book)

Like the rocks born out of the depth of the earth,
The merits of tolerance; A barren silent mirth...
Pillaged by nature - surprised by sunrise !!
All alone by myself I rise towards the skies...
Adrift in an ocean of self-drowning seas...
Whispering in murmurs to the clouds in the breeze,
Standing tall and yet no life - my surreal lies,
I stand silent in welcome and silent in good byes...
Rigor known and yet unknown, unshakeable me !
Torn apart by nature in a violent, angry spree...
When I rose from the earths, I knew not end of days,
And now I feel it ending in myriad, painful ways...


Discontinued my book at

Due to the minimal success of the publication I have discontinued the book at I will be posting the poems from that book here, I hope that they would make for a good read.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The flowers and the blanket

Come September and he steps aside,
From his hasty slumber or its pretense,
For now he has more to worry,
Than the flurry of needs - incumbent,
On him; Not for salvation! Not him,
A whim perhaps but he worries now,
With a withered brow for food,
Least for his appetite or even trite -
Trifle stale bread for his even pale,
Fading mirror of a brother that stands,
Beneath his frivolous shadowed form...
And winter steps in with a playful breeze,
With ease he can no more saunter,
Or falter for now he seeks a blanket...
His form with the yellow flowers -
Towers with tense eyes. He looks -
At the skies, hoping to sell the bunch,
Of daffodils that would get him close,
To the hope of the warmth required,
The ire of fate looking down at him...
His timid form standing beneath,
The lemon tree, fists held tight...
Holding back the dusk yet again,
For he cannot go back with the flowers...

- Anubhav