The sea

Is judging us.

Its calm beauty


Its flow


Our pasts


Our sadness 


The sea 

Is judging 

Our petty issues

Our lovers quarrels 

And our broken hearts

The sea has been broken


It carries the dead 

In its arms

It has been redirected

Lead to barrenness 

It carries the reminders

Of every breath that

Dipped in unthankfully


That the sea 

Is judging us. 

It has grief beyond

A hundred lifetimes 

Of our pain and anguish

The sea judges us

Because it says



Undying in your faith


I Little titles of existence 


I have exhausted my capacity of loving.  I have loved you with a million little pieces of my soul.  Giving you a million little pieces of myself.  I am done. 


Now.  Its about the million little pieces of me that you threw away on the way to moving on.  Where do I search for them?   Where do I find myself? Pick me up and bind myself. 


And if I do find a piece or two lying around the old haunts,  how do I extract myself from them? I don’t have the energy. I don’t have the will.  I wander aimlessly in search for myself, not wanting to be myself. 


Why don’t I grow a million little pieces again?  Form myself whole, again. 

How?  How do you ask a flower to Bloom after it has wilted?  It dies. And seeds. There are seeds.  I have seeds.  Where do I plant them? My body feels barren. 


Where did all the potential for my future go?  Down the drain with a million little pieces. Barren mind full of sadness, only more sadness it begets. 

I am not fertile.  I am sad.  Sadness grows on me birthing a million little pieces of sadness. 


It takes a million little breaths and slight pauses to calm myself down. To breathe fully and hope to regain enough energy to build upon the barren land a fertile Base where I can flourish once again. 


I had.  Million little pieces full of me and my hope. Lost. 


I do.  Million little pieces of hard work on Unconditional and undying. Lost.

The love

Fucking love

Soul food

Bitch heart

Great start 

Time collided 

Stars burst 

Window broke

Time slowed

Tears rolled

Sinners spoke

Lovers tiff

Hearts broke

Twenty times 

Shut up

Cried away

Build homes

Sadness stayed

Fucking love

Soul crushed

Tempers rose

Standing dying

Biting lips

Keep change

Crushed teeth

Hells risk

Hoped beyond

Nothing came

Someone said

Hurry up

Don’t start

Finish up

Empty handed 

Who knew

Love beheaded

Fucking love

Spoke again 

Fucking love 

Walked again 

The human race 

There is tar and dust

And smoke and hate

In the lungs of our fate

There is little to do

And more to say

 See for yourself. 

There is pain and suffering 

And grime and fright

In the blood of our faith

Come closer and closer

A little bit of emptiness 

And quite some distaste

The rank odour and 

Plenty stale. 

Come closer come closer

And closer

See for yourself. 

The spectacle of wonder

The beauty of human race. 

And my friend said.. 

​Seems like everybody is progressing, and I’m stuck on the same page.

And that’s how I was feeling.  Like I was circling down the same damn sewer in the same bad water every day. There was no change.  Nothing to look forward to.  Nothing to look back upon.  There was a feeling of sameness to everything.  I say was because  I got better.  It was a disease and I didn’t know it at that time but eventually, I did.  What I thought was a horrible existence meant to punish me for some cosmical sin,  was in fact a manifestation of depression in its rawest form. The similarity between day and night, between one person and another and between moments of apparent sadness and happiness.  Everything is the same coloured with the same hues of the bad sewer water. There is a feeling of helplessness that arises out of this sameness.  The pungent odour of one’s own life doesn’t  seem recognisable to us anymore.  That is why helplessness.  We feel things but we  don’t know why we’re so unfeeling and generally sad.  This feeling is best described as being stuck on the same page for as long as possible.

It is a tremendous feeling of great proportions which makes you feel hollow. Unable to feel.  Unable to know.   There is a void of what could have been and what is.  This void seems forever unfilled and ever growing. It is when I was at this stage that I realised something was wrong. 

And my friend recognised that feeling so correctly.  She felt it.  We all feel it.  Some times.  Some others feel it all the time most of the time and this is to tell you that that feeling is walking on thin ice.  It is a dangerous indicator of things far worse.  It’s just the tip of an iceberg.  A tip so deep you’ll  waste ages in a  circling drain trying to fathom some sense out of the vague vast feeling this is.. 

In the end, my friend said something which sparked off a lot of emotion in me.  I am feeling now.  Every word anyone says is a new story to me.  Every day a different page.  I never want to go back to circling the drain ever again. Not ever. 

meri aankhon ki nami

For all the dissatisfaction we face

meri aankhon ki nami

baras jayegi kahin

agar zindagi ka kinaara na mila

awaara tairti reh jaungi

ye khayal gavaara na hua

meri aankhon ki nami

baras jayegi kahin

firte hue ishq ka sahaara na mila

tanhaa hi doob jaungi

ye khayal gavaara na hua

meri ankhon ki nami baras jayegi kahin

ye gham ka lamha paraya na hua

ashkon ke aadi ho jaun

ye khayal gavaara na hua

meri aankhon ki nami

baras jayegi kahin

zindagi ka andaaz tabdeel na hua

in sard nigaahon ka zulm yun thehre

ye khayaal gavaara na hua


the moisture in my eyes

will rain

if I don’t find the shore of my life

I’ll be left rootless in life

this thought isn’t acceptable to me

the moisture in my eyes

will rain

roaming, if I don’t find love

I’ll drown alone

this thought isn’t acceptable to me

the moisture in my eyes

will rain

if this moment of sadness doesn’t leave

I’ll be addicted to tears

this thought isn’t acceptable to me

the moisture in my eyes

will rain

if life doesn’t change it’s attitude

the harshness of these wintery eyes stays

this thought isn’t acceptable to me




Firing shots.

If anybody ever doubted their importance in the vast scheme of things
I would just want to run up to them and ask them about everybody they hurt
No, not the ones they made happy
People want to be happy.
They let you make them happy because they pull along better on the happiness front with the extra effort you put in. The ones you hurt. Oh the ones you hurt. They never wanted any of what you gave them. They probably were waiting for you to put in your share of effort to make them happy, happier. Not take some away. Take a lot away. Those were the people in whose life you mattered . The ones who let you make them feel like trash because of your importance in their scheme of things. It is very essential to remember them. Never ever forget them. No.
I don’t deny that making someone happier isn’t important. Making a sad person happy is even more important. It takes an immense amount of energy to do that. There is hard work and perseverance required. It is commendable that you did it. It reflects on how much they matter to you. Deep down there, they’re helping you make them happy. It’s great but I believe that making a happy person sad is the most important . Despite themselves, their desire to not accept your bullshit and with the knowledge of what you are doing to them, those people took it or whatever form of resistance they offered was too weak and the ones who were truly oppressed , they despised you with their heart and probably eventually got rid of you. In all of it all, you were there, at the centre firing shots.
It tells you how much difference you’ve made . You have taken a person and given them pain and anguish and scars and everything everyone detests
It tells you that if it hurt, it mattered and if it mattered , you mattered.
Thus, in lonely times when you have been hurt by someone you gave the power to hurt you, remember, you were there too, on the other side.
So if this remembrance makes you loathe yourself, you might want do something about it.
More commonly, if it makes you realize of the power you end up holding whether you like it or not, then also you might want to do something about it.