Sunday, August 26, 2012


Sometimes, our significance lies in being insignificant. Our greatness lies in feeling small and vulnerable. In those times, our purest inner voice is self-doubt. And we are at peace knowing that we are at war with the world and with ourselves. We walk gently with violence in our hearts.

I am neither trying to fit in nor trying to stand out. I just am. Not moving forward. Not going back. Just staying. Sometimes, the best way to feel the wind is to stand in its path and be ready to get blown away. I feel my hair flying in the wind. I listen to the sound that the winds make when they touch my clothes. The music of friction. Both succeed, in their own ways.

Life, like a wind, comes and goes. Never stays. Not even for a moment. The wind has its price. It gives me strength and dries my tears. It reaches my heart and blows away my fears. I stand my ground and close my eyes. I imagine a white field bathed in sun rays carrying the hopes of all my dreams. Just by standing there, I get closer to them. The sands in my pockets are blessed with a divine power. I whisper my secrets to the sand and see the color of air change as the air carries the sand to faraway places. But, before leaving, the sand whispers to me,’ You have come so far that the only way is forward.’

I am looking for a color that the world has never seen. I am looking for an emotion that no one has ever felt. I am writing a song which no one has heard before. The only risk in this world is not taking a risk. The world is a dangerous place. But, only for those who want to play it safe. Even when the world loses all its mirror and shine, I know you will remember my face.

I am the wind. And the wind is me. I am the story. I am the plot. I am a long line. And I am also a dot. I am the puzzle. I am the clue. I am the sky. And I am the blue. I am the equation. I am the variable. I am the scientist. I am the theorem. I am the smile. I am the lips. I am the feeling. I am the skin. I am the loss. I am the win. The wind is coming. And, now I will begin.

P.S - Title taken from the song 'Eye of the Tiger' by Survivor.

Saturday, August 18, 2012


I know the flowers can be photographed anywhere. But, this one in particular was taken at a place called San Sebastian in Spain. Almost on the Spain-France border, this is one of the most beautiful places I have had the chance to visit. (Year 2009)

Beyond the sea of sky,
Within your eyes so deep.
I whispered one word.
Now, its yours to keep.

                                     Beyond the hills so high,
                                     A promise patiently awaits
                                     Sees your shining smile, and
                                     A river of happiness creates.

A dry bed of colorful leaves
Lie on the road to touch your feet.
Hearing your steps, soft and silent,
Breathe again on the smell so sweet.

                                     Dry sands at the bottom of the river
                                     Rise above to welcome the sun.
                                     Floating on rays, they shine once again.
                                     Million moments of bliss melt into one.

P.S - Title 'ONCE' taken from the film on the same name (IMBD LINK
         My idea of a brilliant film. Having its heart at its place.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I can fix that. And I will.

Because, the day is only a night away.
The rule is simple. To understand the meaning of my words, you will have to first understand my silence. Its from the silence, that my voice comes. It’s the silent pauses that gives meaning to the syllables. Silence is the instrument. The words are the music. Heart-breaking at times. Heart-pleasing at others. Is silence despair, where words are hope?

You see, Hope is like a flower. But, it is presented to us in disguise. The flower smells of despair. The flower dries. The smell dries too. But, it never dies. It waits for someone to show the faith again. You have to hold on to the dried petals long enough. Smell it again and again. Even when you can’t smell a thing. Despair, will give a way for hope to come. The colors will come back. The flower will be dewy and fresh again. In these times, holding on to my despair is my only hope. It may take some time. Lots of it. But, it is the only way out. Or, as I say, it is the only way in.

I haven’t blinked for a while. I am trying to prolong the moment. The Present. Detaching it from the shadow of its past. Saving it before it surrenders itself to the future. Blinking would mean the death of a moment. But, it also means start of another. But, when you fear your own future, you take refuge in the present. Despite knowing the futility of it. Tendency of a human mind. Trying to do the impossible. Looking for a miracle. Because, Miracles only happen to those who believe in them.

When you can’t lie and you can’t say the truth,
Let the word of silence be your guiding ray.
But, trust for once, that you will have your say.
Truth, for sure, will have its moment in the day.

Friday, August 3, 2012


Shining through..., Valley of Flowers, Uttarakhand, India
 So, this is what it feels like. When you forget the favorite line of your favorite song. When you close your eyes for an instant and realize that you have been asleep for so long. When you fall off the earth trying to catch a rainbow. When you misread a whisper. When you peel your own skin to save any scrap of soul still breathing.

The day, as dark as a moonless night.
Sun shining. A ball of blinding light.
Stuck in between, a confused conscience.
Trying its best, to wrong every right.

What I do is imagine myself in complete darkness. The light fizzles and confuses. It distorts the imagination. Hides the true colors. Reveals all the doubts. The dark placates the need to hide anything. Reveals the unseen. Evens the odds. Bridges the gap between too soon and too late. It lets the courage and fear reside in the same eyes. No one lives and no one dies.

The roads were broken at several places.
Many a souls lost their spirits here.
Another pair of foolish boot starts afresh.
Filled with courage, but mostly in fear.

The clouds have returned. These are not rain drops anymore. There are moments from the past gliding and swaying before my eyes. All shining and glowing. A few with delight. Others with tears. Precious all the same. Not one of them meet the earth. They all shine my path. Till the darkness will make them redundant.

The rays fell on me and bounced back.
And, I resembled a shining ghost.
The dead were smiling at me,
But, I was barely alive, at the most.

And, this is what it feels like. When you just want to lean for some time on a wall and it crumbles with the weight of your shoulders. The bricks, save for those at the bottom, lies scattered all around your feet. And you smile because you couldn’t even plan your ruin properly. You discover a piece of wall among them and read something what you had written ages ago. It takes an extraordinary courage to live an ordinary life. And, then you sit on your half ruin, put on your headphones, and play your favorite song and whistle as your favorite line breathes into your soul. And you believe, everything will be fine. Even if the feeling lasts as long as the song.

Like a pride of a horror painting,
Nailed alone on a brick wall.
For the last time, he stood straight.
And this time, he will not fall.