Singeing signature

I have let go of memories, the madness,

Common sense and clutter.

Yet I cling on to parched paper

Holding on to it with dear life,

Solely for the ink of your name

Scribbled across it haphazardly –

Like the notes of a divine melody

Strung across the sheet

I listen to it, and I bleed.


A word

A word trips and tumbles down

A slip of your tongue, an unintended kindness,

Thrown off the top of your word pond

I denote it as compassion, if not passion;

You see my ears smile,

Relishing it too much-

You stagger in fear

Trying to rewind and undo.

You detach, at will,

Cold, distant, yet again,

Now the words shoot out :

Fast, numerous, empty.

I erect a barricade and slither away

But not before I steal your word,

Stitch it, intact, in my veins,

Dance away, away from you,

Dance away to its jarring ring.




Your music overthrows me –

Potent notes dangling in the grateful air,

I inhale your melody

That dances around despite its melancholy,

The same breath unites us

In one wavelength,

The beats you kick away

engulf me in a rhythm;

I see your unassailable call

To the valley of elation

I jump on, eager,

The taste of the song lingers still

I savour the sounds.



Little Gusts of Wind


A little gust of wind scampers around –

Tousling the trees

Nudging the leaves

tickling the grass

Shooing the clouds above.

A little gust of wind scampers around –

shoving the mountains

whistling at the sky

tripping on the seas

puncturing ripples in them.

A little gust of wind scampers around

teasing my hair

ruffling my clothes.

In all its banter

it stops for a second,

Stirring my soul

Waking something deep within.

WordPress Daily prompt :Scamper

Myriad Musings


Amongst the many lies we have grown up believing, a sunny day being desirable has stuck with us till date. Its probably a cause for celebration in the West. But, in the context of India’s hotter states, the concept of inviting the sunny weather is so ridiculous it’s laughable.



Sunlight means one thing here. Hiding. Where are my shades ? Quick, find me an umbrella in case it becomes too much to take. Sunscreen lotions are scrambled for hurriedly and they form a forcefield to shield our gentle skin from the conspiring sun. We squint our eyes at anything in between the innocent sunrise and sunset and hunt desperately for the nearest shades for shelter from the rays. Even humid heat is unwelcome as it can only mean sticky sweat and huge electricity bills due to the AC running round-the-clock.



As for me, I’d never pretend to be a fan of the summer whose weather can only differ among the hot, hotter and hottest. I wait for the wind that trumpets the arrival of rain, a murky climate symbolic of our longings, the secrets we hold dear and a picture that paints the uncertainty of what’s to come. Nothing beats the weather that’s somewhere in between ‘rainy’ and ‘sunny’, a weather that’s just like you and me.


WordPress daily prompt : Sunny

Life lessons, Poetry

Strangers exchange

Strangers meet at an airport

Lugging their own trolley bags,

Spilling its contents :

Butterflies they had caught,

Causes for which they’ve fought,

Epiphanies and reality checks,

The experiences of foreign treks;

The foot prints of all that they’d left behind,

Beliefs of the body, soul and mind.

Somewhere in the exchange,

The strangers are encased

In a hybrid bubble

with scents of both their lives :

Together, afresh,

They Blossom anew.


Book Mad !

The clock ticks nine!

Lights out already ?

Too soon for a bookworm.

Night light under bed sheets,

Committing my own secret crime

to figure out who did commit the crime.

No way ! An anti-hero ?

It can’t be, it can’t be.

My eyes glued to the paper

totally immersed in the words

determined to follow them

to the very end.

Uh-oh, my battery dies.

I run up to my dad

to let me read for another minute,

just one last page.

He fails to comprehend

the gravity of the situation.

He says tomorrow. Tomorrow ?

But- but- What about the sad princess

who’s waiting for me

and the wicked sorcerer

who has her in his clutches?!

Alas, if only adults knew

what was important and what was not.

WordPress Daily prompt : Total