Saturday, 31 December 2011

Untitled 3

You are as distant as the last morning star,
which flees before dawn sets on her wings.
And as ephemeral as a fresh dew drop
resting on a tiny blade of grass, which slips
well before the golden sun
has had a chance to look at her.

Your eyes do seem like endless oceans,
whose emarald depths I drink deep;
and refreshed and rested
my heart finds comfort.
And your voice like the song of the sea,
lulls me further into enchantment.
Your touch like velvet
plays havoc with my mind.
Your sight to behold
is better than Paradise,
your gaze: more uplifting than wine.

Your beauty is dream-like
subtle and changing
which cannot be named
or otherwise stated.
What cunning do you hide,
what spells do you chant ?
My mind cant fathom,
bewitched and numb,
by wonder and love:
I must follow like a moth to fire:
Death is more aggreeable than distance.

Saturday, 24 December 2011

Author's Notes

These are my notes on my poem "Moon in the Lake"

Verse I

The rainbow mirage
 has floated away in light.
Darkness hides from splendid sunbeams.
What is, and what is not ?
Appearances are poor mirrors of truth.

I  have used the word 'rainbow' for the mirage of life, for a true mirage is not monochromatic or static.It is a fluttering wave,ever new, ever different. Each person percieves this mirage in a different way, adds his or her own colour to it.That is why I call it a rainbow, multicolored, multifaceted.This mirage works at many levels, and many directions, a unique illusion for everyone.And that is a part of the success of the illusion.If everyone percieved it in a similar manner, then sooner or later everyone would realize it. But everyone has their own worlds, everyone is 'playing their own game', everyone is engaging in their own foolishness.And to be frank, the word just popped up in my mind, 'rainbow mirage' and I saw that it made sense.I seldom make any effort to find words or lines.

Tuesday, 20 December 2011

The Moon in the Lake.

The rainbow mirage
has floated away in light.
Darkness hides from splendid sunbeams.
What is, and what is not ?
Appearances are poor mirrors of truth.

The shadow of the moon in placid water,
is nothing but a lie of great beauty;
for Men have set feet on the heavens,
but who has found-
the moon in the heart of the lake?
All the world is a stage,
Or so the old poet sang;
Forced smiles and fake tears,
answer the demands of the audience.
The cold and sharp blade of truth,
has but few takers.

This is a company of fools,
a parade of fleeting glamor.
This is the age of paper tulips,
paper words, paper hearts.
I do not see faces but only masks,
and what is worse I am one.

Sunday, 27 November 2011


Sometimes when I try
to make words of my thoughts.
the pen feels weak to bear
 the burden of my mind.

My lips fumble in confusion
my voice trembles,
my eloquence eludes me,
when I need it most.

Not for odes of beauty,
of love, of grace...
my throat dries up
when I sing my song.

Thursday, 27 October 2011

Untitled 2

I have spent a fair morn,
looking amongst  winding hills,
The noon I frittered away in,
labyrinthine woods, numerous vales;
And even as night beckons
I search orchards fragrant with fruit.
The sight of my Lover, nowhere do I behold!

Sunday, 4 September 2011


In the corner of my eye
I see time zooming by
in dreamy fuziness
Covered by a starless night
so utterly numb
no fear bothers me
Dragged into helplessness
transcending pity and regret
I slip further into denial.
Shunning all and everything
beyond pain
lazily waiting for the end.

Saturday, 11 June 2011


False Peace

''The reflection of the current social paradigm tells us we are largely determined by conditioning and conditions."
- Stephen R. Covey

Saturday, 4 June 2011

Roaming with Rumi

I was dead, but came back to life.
I was the cry, but I became the smile.
Love came and turned me into everlasting glory.

Here's how it happened:

Friday, 3 June 2011


My attempt at short fiction, still in progress.

 It was a dark cloudy evening.The last rays of sun where slowly fading into the darkness, while a mild chilly breeze blew across the street.Mary looked at her watch, and it was six thirty and there was no sign of Michael.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

The Choice is Yours.

This is one of early poems, when I was in 10th standard, so it is a little 'juvenile' in a way.Read on!

When your dreams break,
and heart shatters like brittle glass;

When expectations crumble,
under the wieght of Circumstance;

When agony and fear,
strike at you,
like nails driven in your flesh;

On Creativity

Poetry is not a synthesis, it is a creative art and there is a difference. Synthesis must ultimately come from some previous analysis, it must come from logic, and it must therefore come from the mind.

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Temple Lamp

Lighted when it was,
full of vigour,
with youth to its brim,
and over.

Small flame it is,
sailing in a dark ocean;
casting strange shadows,
on the earthern wall.

Moths and flies,
crawl to it,
to warm themselves in the freezing cold night.
It illumines,
the face of the Deity,
at its zenith.
Wisdom coupled with Youth,
of utmost importance.

Monday, 16 May 2011

Let There Be Light.

Darkness descends ,
nights shy lady,
softly steals;
as the day sinks,
and warmth becomes distant.

Autumn's gloomy chill.
The birds no longer call.
The pines moan and creak;
Nature seems silent,
swept by their song.

Great winds roar and surge;
no soul stirs nor dares venture.
The hosts of stars gather in the sky,
Assembled as if on battle's cry.

In the safety of brick walls,
and the comfort of glowing hearths;
Men slip into sweet slumber
And weave dreams of days long gone,
of famed exploits and glorious victories.

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Some More Nonsense

Here is a selection from one of my poems called 'Beauty of Change'


Sometimes,I reminisce
of the days gone by
like fallen yellow leaves,
testimony of a better day,
covering the earth in decay and death.

Hiding from Myself

Selected text from one of my poems.


Darkness like a dark sea,
in its unending vastness engulfs me.
Yet no cry escapes my lips.

Stumbled Upon

Read a post at KusTavan on typical Kashmiri mannerisms.Though the post is old,it is one of the most accurate lists ever.Come'on we all have done all things the fella mentions.May I add our ridiculous habit of making sure that we extract the tiniest bits of marrow from the Rogan Josh bones ? Nice post mate!

Basho's Dreams

I am an avid reader of poetry from accross the world, and write a bit myself.Here are a few of Master Basho's haikus (translated into English) that I love.I bet the original are much richer and succint than their English equivalents.

Ah! Summer grasses,
All that remains
Of the warriors' dreams.

Don't imitate me
we are not two halves
of a muskmelon.

Belief and Reality

The conflict in the world has always been between one man’s belief versus another man’s belief.
 (Indian Mystic.)

Monday, 2 May 2011


I am a 19 years old college student in Mumbai.Though I belong to the Kashmiri Pandit community, I have been a Mumbaikar from the last 18 years.

The late 80s and the early 90s were hard times for Kashmir, with insurgency widespread and state-sponsored terrorism active from across the border.They were trying times for the Pandits as well, who were already a small minority in Kashmir.Targeted killings and massacres forced them to flee the motherland, in search for security and safety.A overwhelming majority has not returned since, the wounds of fear are still fresh in their minds.