Sunday, August 3, 2008

Loneliness strikes when the person you are missing is not missing you the most.

Friday, July 25, 2008

...And they were all yellow

Kolkata blues

Lifeless leaf lies in relief
I don't need confirmations, but I wish I could have one.
I wish I could read minds. Then without a word, or even a sound I would have known the happenings behind the human mind.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Why do I write?

‘Writing is the geometry of the soul’, Plato said.
I write because I love to write and I consider words to be pegs to hang ideas on. It is a pleasure to create a world which I imagine and share it with others. The ability of each reader to perceive situations differently and create a new imagination of their own is the most exciting part of writing. It is the simplest, yet the most powerful means of communication. Writing to me is the platform of knowledge and creativity, waiting to be shared through every turning page, keeping its own style and personality.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

The Truth remains....

Skies often seem to overwhelm us, with their darkness, with their vastness, with their capacity to surround us from all directions. But they cannot. For it is a certainty, that they will make way for the sun, which will illuminate all that is intrinsically gold. The waiting is long, the messages discomforting, the looks disconcerting. Persons, who should have kept silent, will speak. Those that should have shouted, may be curiously silent. But the real persons will be closer, richer, more resilient and ultimately triumphant and lustrous like never before.

Monday, May 26, 2008

The Orchid

The pristine peach orchid
Enamoured me by its poise,
It possessed a natural beauty
That everybody eyed.

With subtlety it mesmerised,
After years of gentle care,
It reflected the truth of hard work
And toil that built its frame.

The capturers of beauty
Who wanted to freeze time,
Eagerly awaited her bloom
To immortalize her life.

But the surrounding multitudes,
Had little time to 'waste',
To see the magnamous moment
That could enlighten the disdained.

The orchid bloomed in glory
Which could attract a million gaze,
At a window corner of a dark room
When the world was 'running' away.

Her beauty remained unnoticed,
As time captured our frame
And metamorphosized us humans
To become more inhumane,
Once again.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

I don't want to be confused
I want to know...everything.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Most

Talk to people who matter most,
Listen to music which appeals the most,
Love the people who hate the most,
Trust people who love the most,
Help people who need it the most,
Pray for people without choosing the most.

Friday, May 16, 2008


It is stormy here...
In my city
In my heart.

The Road

There is a road with no endings,
At one side there are problems and luxuries,
And on the other hardships and bliss.
On one side there is respect and knowledge,
On the other there is distress and disgust.
On one side there is enjoyment and purpose,
On the other there is pain, intense pain.
Sometimes there are no sides,
I am lost, distressed, pained...
Because on one side lies my roots
And on the other my future terrain.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Today I realised how sensitive I have become that even when I am writing this at this moment, I have to change the type selection to Trebuchet first otherwise I feel my thoughts get restricted. Today also revealed the uselessness of duality. I have to learn being strong in a single thing first before I proceed to be the master of all. I experienced how inexperienced I am. Mandar Rane's jury was very thought provoking today. I realised the level of incompetence I am dwelling in. Its time to change. This time it is truly about getting 'morphed'!

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Turning back time...

I wish I had the power to turn back time
And undo all the things wrongly done.
I don't understand myself most of the times,
Because my heart throbs for something,
That my mind says to overcome.
Going with the flow is no longer fun
Its time to take a decision and do things I want.
I just want to be comfortably numb,
But even this emtion shall be buried by time.

1 day before ad jury,
going with the flow, did it for fun

Monday, April 28, 2008


I am happy to be silly. Smiling at silly things and just being happy is true bliss. I realised people look so genuinely beautiful when they are silly! Silly solitude can also be very revealing. It can break blocks, alleviate fear and instill logic. I love being silly at times.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Most Wanted

That stare, that glance, that look...all disappeared. I clinged on to hope...or expectations more aptly put. I did not try hard enough for the thing I wanted most. How could I leave it to silly expectations and small hopes? Life is about living and not merely existing. So...I will try...try again for what I want. But the fear lies in getting what I want but not what I need.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Fresh lime soda

Sweaty palms clutched to the cold refreshing glass filled with the lemony white liquid. One...two...three...gulp and there it went through the throat and into the system. The system battered with creativity, originality and a tinge of logic. It cooled, it calmed, it made you appreciate the simple things in a glass of cold water on a hot sunny day. While the world moved busily cursing and 'pretending' to ignore the heat, I took a moment off to realise its consequences...and battled it with a glass of fresh lime soda.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


Sorry for not being there
When the monsters came,
And made you scared.
When I wanted to express
But had no guts,
Fearing that I might lose your trust.
I was scared too
But you did not care
Or pretended like me
To hide what you felt.
I wanted someone to take my hand
And guide me through the perilous sands.
Someone to puncture my preconceived thoughts
And tell me its cool to depend and trust.
Someone whom the world has already judged
For being frivolous and seeing light rings in the dark.
But time has healed and created space
And given me a chance to introspect.
The truth remains that no matter how much I love,
You will always remain addicted to those dangerous drugs.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

The World is a Stage

Malicious makeup or murky mannerisms?
Frivolous fondness or familiar fakeness?
Depleting choice or choosing the known?
Questions that seem to have answers...
not on the surface,
but deep within the labyrinths of human brain.
Embedded, protected, secretly hidden,
by freedom of choice or by virtuous connotations.
This seems vague...
but I like to keep it this way.
Because if everyone understood everything
then we would not be players,
And the world would not be a stage.

Thursday, March 27, 2008


Illegible text, random ink spots, oil marks, dirty doodles, hurriedly scribbled measurements define my existence. I now lie at a door corner of Symbiosis Institute of Design and watch the world pass by. A world where ‘usage’ significantly defines importance and time shrinks within a blink of an eye. I am ‘Crumbles’, a crushed piece of the front page of a news paper.
Success, fame, attention and all other material pleasures are frivolous to me. I had them all a few months back, a time when I was the epitome of everyone’s attention. The aroma of freshly printed inks oozed from my body as I gleamed with sheen unparalleled in my friend circles. Breaking news and headlines that shook the world formed my content as well as my character. I covered the tragedy of the assassination of Benazir Bhutto, a lady who defined democracy and lost her life for it. I remember the scurry of students in the college library waiting to see me. Shocking glances filled the atmosphere as I was repeatedly distributed among faculty, students and anybody who loved to read the news. My other friends seemed non-existent among all the glory and fame.
Though I had the apparent physical similarities of publication that made me an identity of the Times group, I remained special because of my ability to decipher emotions and understand the thoughts of people. I had the novelty of reading people’s mind.
Reality enlightened me as I realised the credence of my importance. My ‘usage’ was dwindling. Soon I found myself among a group of my friends, scathed by the blow of the rough jute wires. In a dark room I laid alone and desolate, scared about my future, terrified about death. Times changed and my belief to live life remained resilient as I observed the mild sun rays entering the darkness from a door creak every single day without fail, unmoved by the numerous conflicts omnipresent.
‘And then there was light’; gleaming, warm, yellow shining rays that blinded me instantly. A soft touch caressed my heart and embraced me. I was soon separated from the rest of my clan to facilitate the making of an envelope to accommodate a meticulously done piece of artwork. I now belonged to Pam, the most conscientious student of the class. My transient success returned when a numerical scribbled on my body revealed the toothy smile of a diligent designer. She surreptitiously admired me and proudly portrayed her finest design to others. After all I protected and veiled her mysterious and most cherished concept of creativity in me.
But fame fleeted when jealous intentions arose. I wept copiously as the ruthless Rajiv drenched me with water. Unscrupulously my body was severed and slashed with barbaric intentions. I failed to shield the most important belonging of Pam. My body ached with pain but I only hoped for another chance to be loved. When Pam discovered the cruelty, she was shaken. My wet tattered body was separated from the precious painting and I realised the hypocrisy that lied within the labyrinths of human mind. It was the painting that was admired throughout and not me. Over the years I was ‘used’ for testing the right shade of colour or was the recipient of confusing measurements and dirty dust. But the stark realization of being utilized repeatedly and not loved shattered me as my robust body was crumbled into a miniscule ball, making me indiscernible to the world around.
Nobody notices me now except for the red plastic dustbin of the animation lab. I lovingly call her ‘Dusty’ and she calls me ‘Crumbles’. My hideous appearance does not bother her as she accepts me for my uniqueness. Laying a few metres away from me ‘Dusty’ sits calm and composed waiting to clean the world from obnoxious elements. I understand in true love, distance is irrelevant but I urge you readers to let this love bloom. The irony remains that the day of my meet will be the day of my destruction but the thought of recycling and sharing the same vision of ‘Dusty’ excites me.
So next time anybody passes the animation lab, do spare a thought of uniting us and giving us a chance to make this world a cleaner and better place to live in, a world where love leads to ‘usage’ which is valued.


Dusty pebbles and textured pavement surrounds ‘ Morpheus’, an individual who strives to give shape to a form. Air enters vacuum and through twist, turns and squeaks morphs a formless elastic piece of coloured rubber. Gazing with intrigue are the eyes of a two year old shabbily dressed kid whose attention gets divided in trying to draw in the green sticky blob that wants to escape its origin. He blows and puffs to create myriad attractive forms but survival seems to scurry away. Minutes pass as days in counting repeatedly the meagre quantity of the shining metal pieces. Rounded pieces whose numbers agglomerate to quote the value of existence in this microcosm.
As I-pod plugged yuppies, insulated in expensive gym wear, jog on the grooved gripped pathways of the majestic Victoria Memorial during the misty November mornings, Bimal kaka admiringly called Morpheus, tries to beat habit by originality. Animals, objects, folk characters find expression through his creation. The trivial yet expectant glances from passersby no longer excite him. His sole aim is to survive and hold ground in this ever changing vastness. Morpheus is the balloon man who I pass everyday while going back home from school.
Due to his unique personality and approach towards life I decided to spend time with Morpheus. Every day for half an hour I sat and listened to his stories. His descriptions and thoughts opened new avenues to my visualization. Being a fifteen year old inquisitive kid, I questioned him infinitely to gauge his intelligence. But his answers always had a certain winning edge to it. Slowly I joined the fan club of Morpheus with the two year old kid being the other exclusive member.
Morpheus loved to dream. In his mind, he travelled to unknown places where there were clear skies; his thoughts went astray visualizing his success. He dreamt of balloon shows where pieces of his creations would fly far away with people clapping and rejoicing. He dreamt of taking pictures with celebrities and eating a sumptuous meal with his family. He talked about colours and their personalities. He wanted to feel yellow and kiss red. He talked about nature and frivolous people surrounding him, about malls and vegetable vendors. He talked of importance and its context to changing times. I listened to his exciting views with utmost zeal. Hours passed in such engaging talk. As the sunset cast a sepia glow to the whiteness of Victoria, the twisted balloons added interest to the morbidity of the atmosphere.
I developed an indiscernible bond with Morpheus. I decided to introduce this power house of alternative knowledge to my friends, knowledge which has to be perceived and imbibed, not mugged without understanding. So after talking to my Principal, I fixed up a workshop where for the first time he would earn valuable paper notes instead of those limited shining metal pieces.
As I rushed to deliver the good news to him, I viewed oddity in the atmosphere. For the first time in 9 months, Morpheus was absent. He continued to be so for the next one week. A stifling discomfort filled me when I thought reason. Slowly I built up the courage to ask the pan shop vendor about ‘kaka’. It is more fitting to let this answer remain unsaid.
Though ‘Morpheus’ is missing in reality, he is immortalised in my dreams. There is no reason for change. But life survives on the powerful base of transformation. Sometimes the most enlightening thoughts come from the most unknown and surreptitious places and can morph our lives forever.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Radar introspects

"Where did it begin, where does it end?"

Running through the labyrinths of my mind, my thoughts hint that they are in a terminal condition and a speed breaker could answer their desires. Wait, stop, break, chill are words seem vague. Life is racing me through. Sometimes the momentum seems intriguing but at times confusing. As I hurried back from college one day thinking about the future, I overheard a tree on the grounds saying the following lines:

"Nature blooms in all its glory
But humans always have to scurry."

I noticed then that its majestic branches had been slashed a few months back to create 'space'. But transitory alleviation of its excrutiating pain was done by a pair of freshly grown green leaves.

"Its time to stop and introspect,
What do I do to avoid regret?"

At this point Robert Frost's introspection calms me...
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."