Letter

Oh, to be this letter—You’ll be holding in your hands,Or to beA gust of wind, and playWith your hair;Maybe even someoneWho can see you everyday?But would I be able to talk?Walk? Breathe?Or would I drop dead?Would you pick me up?Or jump over my head?Should I post it and — find out?Or go finishMy homework instead?

dawn

I wake up when it’s still dark outsideAnd the wind is Cold;Then I command the sun to rise,And paint the world in Gold.As a human, it gives me thatWhich I could die or kill for,It gives me a sense of powerMakes me feel like I am in Control,That I matter, that I am significant,In that …

dusk

Do your smiles stay,When the sun goes down,And the world goes home, and you —Are on your own? Does mattering — matter to you?Or are you fine knowing we will all be forgotten? Can you sit down by your side, and laughAt the absurdityOf life and livingFor a moment or two? Or would you like …

chance

Does finding music in heartbeatswhile your head restson their chest — count as art?Do the ephemeral beams of sunpassing through mazesof branches and leaves formingintricate patterns — call for an artist?or is it chance? Are we just too scaredof being on our own? Are we too naïveto find solace in the fact that given enough …

Smileys

I knew a boy like that once, heUsed to call me friend,He never stopped talking, and though ICould never respond, I was the only oneWho was never mean. He drew faces everywhere —With fingersOn muddy windshields,With chalkOn brick walls,With Clouds and RainbowsOn azure skies,And with wordsOn my circular mug. Smiles.Always smiles, he saidThe world could …

lamination

A paper boyOn the blue planet,Dampened and Crumbled in a million ways;My glitter pen smileIs fading away,My wiggly eyes don’t see a God anymore. The blots of blueYou see on my paper skin nowWere blessed lines of great poetry. I hate water. Puddles and RainsOf progress and powerDrench me from below and above;Floods and OceansOf …

Soan-papdi

A BokehOf Golden and Silver lightsIs slowly coming into Focus, The HeapsOf leaves underneath the trees,Are glowing in the moonlight, The ChillsOf winterAre on their way, It’s TimeTo raid the attics and retrieveThe woolens and the blankets, And Open once moreThe Diwali Time TreasuryOf Fossilized Sweet-boxes;Just wipeThem with a damp cloth,It works like a charm,And …