2022, you are brutal
You kill me
You despise me
And make me feel
As if everything I did
My efforts
My hard earned
Back to square one

2022, thank you
For a raise
I didn't deserve
You challenged me
Bombarded with
And Over-time
But that's what
Growth demands

2022, you're still here
Laughing at me
While I rant
But I ain't giving up
Beyond limits I
& Shine
My silver lining
On the other side


It's difficult explaining anybody why I must stay aloof
For nobody gets how I need to keep my heart safe
How important it is to not let it break
To not let any stranger create a wreck

I already got too much in my head space
My heart breaking with familiar ache
Ruins of days that still walk past by
Memories that never say goodbye

I don't know if anyone is capable of holding
The heart so tender a thing that it is
You need to be truly a man to know
How to hold a heart of gold


I haven’t written a blog post on our Independence day until this time. I don’t know, perhaps growing old makes you feel a tad bit more responsible towards being a true citizen. Our schools did their jobs well for instilling the sense of nationalism in our hearts. We are proud of our country, no matter what we say, and everytime the beat goes on, “Sare Jahan Se Acha, Hindustan Hmara” we beam with a different kind of feeling, one that is inexplicable.

I think about everything and everyone I can, who fought their lives because of which I am sitting here peacefully at my table today and typing this piece. Being free would vary, in literal sense. But just imagine, not being able to express your voice, or having to follow a dictator, or keeping shunn with a law that you are against. What we have now, I sure do not take that for granted and I am aware of the struggle that went behind it. I am also aware of the struggle ongoing to make sure I can keep safe. I am aware that I am equally a part of this mob, and I know my share of work and I am on it.

I believe it will never feel enough, whatever we do. However, knowing that we are trying to contribute, in whatever possible way, is all the matters.

Cheers to 75 years of freedom, and beyond.

Happy Independence Day to all my Indian friends, fellow bloggers, and family.

Streets Of Dalidovinds

In the miniatures of mirage
the hot sands, the gusty winds
He was an ocean I discovered
Midway of deserted Dalidovinds

In darkest atmosphere
In fear, in spooky blends
He was the light I received
To help me strive till the end

The one who stood by
In happiness, in sorrows
He was the silent keeper
In emptiness, in hollows

He was a wonder to know
An illuminating soul, untamed
He's all I loved too much
A thousand smiles in his name

Originally written in 2014

Running Train of Thoughts

The human heart is so tender, it fights all monstrous thoughts to keep off the pain that once near, can cut it inside out. So it goes this way. It tries to convince you that the thing you do not have, is not even worth it. You make yourself believe you do not care or are good without it, tricking and manipulating your impotent mind. And then there is this emotional storm that evades all possible barriers you built inside in a go. Everything you built up, washes away with the surge tides. It’s bare now, everything as transparent as your naked heart and soul. And then your heart cries in pain. Because it knows what it wants, but it doesn’t know how to stop feeling the way it feels. It’s brutal you know.

Staying busy, stashes these thoughts somewhere I can’t access. However, when I get some ‘me time’, which is thankfully only on the weekends, it gets difficult to avert them from evading my space. Tonight is one such day of days, and I am not thinking straight.
So I thought I’d rather write them down here and let them go, while I take on another round of work to keep my head busy thinking elsewhere.

The Smile Behind the Twinge

I met Preeti the day before

She's cute, beaming a big wide smile

The innocence that trips from her face

Is a rare jewel that stays with her upright

"Where do you live?", I ask

"Here itself" a quick response

Her next question confused me

"You have your parents?", she asked

I said, "no sweet kid, not here

They are back at home"

"Do you live with your parents?"

Very boldly she said, "no"

Her voice wasn't weak or shaky

When she said her father died

And mother got remarried

And her new dad, 'bad dad', left her here

She pointed to the cook

"He's my brother, I live with him

He bought me a dress during dussehra, did you celebrate?"

Oh her bright eyes, I climbed upstairs with a smile