07 December, 2017


These, my dreams and dramas
my slowly evolving orbit
suspended on the skin of time
circling a star, priming for light
as the dead moon breathes sunlight
and the sea licks the shores of imperfection.

Grant me these mistakes,
these hidden scars,
these pools of irises projecting
forgotten stories on guarded eyelids.

Indulge me this love
this paradox of submission
forming icicles of unspoken words
churning deep waters
spewing out garbage and treasures
into these scars bending my fingers
with the unending lines from my palms.

This is my slowing evolving orbit
suspended on the fragile skin of time.

08 December, 2016

27 May, 2015

Caterpillar Experience

This is about the Narmada Parikrama. This is also about the several other journeys, people and another short parikrama. It has been two months since I returned from the two month long parikrama. When I think about it, I am at a loss of words to explain it. How can you explain this sights and senses and feelings that you are swept with during such a massive experience? But I will attempt because it has changed my life and has given me wings and was like drops of water on parched lips. The thirst has not been quenched, but it has left a taste of water. It is a more difficult place to be tortured by just drops after being toasted in the heat. I stood at his room door, unsure if I should step inside, he being a sanyasi and I being a young girl. But he called me inside. Another doubt of my safety crossed my mind, but I entered. He gave me his not working number lock in exchange of the one I gave him. I bent down to touch his feet. He blessed me and said something which has never left me. He said, 'meri saari tapasya ka phal tumhe mil jaye'. I was dumb founded. He was an old man in the 70s and had left his home and desires to seek god. He lived and worked hard in the hard world of the sanyasi. And here he was, giving away the fruits of his tapasya to a girl he had seen for a day. He went on to say, 'itni kam umar main, Geeta main itni roochee maine nahin,dekhi. Tumhara kaam jaari rakkho.'

07 July, 2014

it's time...

Maybe it is time to turn to the old paper and ink
Maybe it is time to redefine the necessities 
And separate the luxuries
Time to walk the skyscrapers
The bridges, the skywalks
To sit in sweat soaked taxi seats
Time to get drenched under the umbrella
Time to end an era

And go back to the roots 
that have bled for me

07 August, 2013

Castle of peace

It’s an easy slip,
one thought,
one irrational act,
one memory
or one word from the wrong file of fact,
and the castle of peace,
of silence, of manna,
threatens to collapse.

An apparition you see,
of debris near your feet,
the bricks and mortar of
the castle you built,
for a silenced mind,
and an lightened soul.

And with irrational act,
one memory,
the castle of manna,
threatens to collapse.

06 January, 2013

To the Bright Moon

The moon is brightest today. One of those days when I want to capture it somewhere. Yet, I do not.
I simply gaze at it.

It has been a bitter-sweet day. One of those days when I realise I am different than others. A few years back, I would fight this difference to become one with others. I would want to be anonymous. But not anymore.

Where are the conversations?

The last few minutes before Shuti left her home, usually decided her day ahead. IF she was late, there was no forgiving herself. She would go through the entire day with an internal whip slaying her soul. If she was just on time, she told herself tomorrow she will be early. If she was before time, she would kill herself with the pressure to perform consistently tomorrow and the rest of the week.

But she had started her day pretty early today. She had woken up with 2 hours in hand before her estimated time to leave home. But then, she just sat on her rocking chair and kept staring outside the window, soaking in the silence. It was as if she was in a trance. The questions regarding the purpose of life, regarding the weight of knowledge, of growth, of growing seemed to be on hold at these moments. Just sitting and breathing were a good enough reason to live. Sometimes she felt she could just sit like this. For hours. For days. Forever.

She got up after a while. Suddenly her purpose shifted gears and focused on reaching work. A forecast of what was awaiting at work suddenly played in her mind. A sinking feeling. A subtle stoop in her spine Yet, she was in a rush. Rushing to get her lunch, rushing to lock the doors, the windows. Rushing t o switch off all the switches. Carry her purse, check her wallet, check the keys, check the i-card. And then wait at the door for just a few seconds, thinking if she forgot anything.

28 November, 2012

Thank You

It is an overwhelming feeling. To be able to see my writing in these pages here. To experience that others read and find something that touches their lives. And so I want to express my gratitude. With thanksgiving around the corner, it is an apt time to thank.

I thank the universe for continually inspiring me. For throwing me in situations that make me think. For all the soul-churning experiences that have made me, me. That make me want to write. To explore my limits through these limitless possibilities of words and punctuation.

I thank you, dear reader. For the occasions that you land on this page. With all the sadness these writings hold, you sometimes read, you sometimes comment. And leave me encouraging words.

I thank all people in my life that make me experience life as I do. Writing is a solitary activity. What I write comes just from within. After days of churning my insides with the thoughts and ideas. There are days when I do not want to speak at all. The internal world so full of possibilities that a quiet room with nothing in it proves to be balming. Perhaps hoping that my mind might imitate what I see. And that takes a toll on people around me. So, I thank them all. My parents, my closest friends, my colleagues, my strangers who face the brunt of these internal storms that engulf me from time to time. So ,thank you. For bearing with me. Still loving and caring for me. Because these storms form the basis of what I do write.

I thank all experiences that have come my way. All the tears that I shed which have formed the basis for me to want to write. Some writers have a relation with happiness. They want to share smiles. Some with love. My writing has a relation with pain. I am at my creative best when I am pained. I guess I am too selfish with happy moments. I am too busy enjoying. To laugh. To experience happiness. Too busy to want to write it down. So, I thank these experiences. The pain and the laughter. For without laughter, the world would not be worth living at all.

All this would seem meaningless without the world of google and blogger. This sharing would not be possible at all. To be able to present my thoughts in this blog is a privilege I do not ever forget. Thank you, blogger.

10 November, 2012

Now that you are here

There have been days,
moments spent in anticipation
to know this feeling
of seeing you see me
of a growing
sense of self conjuring up
as you look at me.

And now that i have you.
at an arm's distance,
with wondrous eyes searching mine
i do not know what to do.

There are days,
moments spent in abandon,
when romance is just being with you,
knowing you are present,
when in spite of myself,
and my idea of my feminine freedom,
i feel i belong here,
with you, to you.

Then there are days,
when you still look at me,
with those searching,
probing eyes,
and when you see me more than i ever thought myself to be,
when you take my hand,
willing time to slow down,
when you fill my spaces
when there was no yesterday,
no tomorrow,
and the spiritual space of now,
exists right now
only with you.

There are still other times
when i doubt you exist,
when i think that the fairy tales and folk tales 
are to be blamed.
But i slowly drift through time 
towards you.
And you are here
at an arm's distance,
and do i know what to do?

*I was listening to 'Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo..". I heard many variations by various artists. And while I was overwhelmed with the singing, the lyrics stuck in my head. And I thought - what will I write if I wanted to write a romantic piece?
This was one of the trials.