I look at this window every now and then
As it reflects different stories on this rectangular canvas.
Seasons change, so do the colour of skies
What does not change are the curtains on the two sides
As lifeless as they could be, through days
The only time they’re lively is
when they flutter with a sudden gust of wind
As if dancing out of joy, after ages of waiting.
But the wind doesn’t come often.
And when it does, the windows shut
To avert the mess inside.
And everything is still, again.
It is like,
I’m the curtain and you’re the wind
And the window is my heart, trying to forget you.

What’s the best thing
about waking up in the morning?
Is it the sunlit sky
Dripping of the tangerine hue
The scent of coffee, as it brews
Tangled hair that play with cold breeze
The pillow, that smells of your shampoo,
Or is it a respite from long, gloomy nights
Charred lungs, unsettled soul and sunken eyes
A pause button in your dark episode
Or a harbinger of new hope,
Hope, that today would be better
That today would be new,
As fresh as the morning dew
Indeed, the best thing about mornings
Is that you can wake up sober
And knowing, that you can start over.

Glistening eyes and fragile hands
She was chirpy like a little bird
Giggles echoed around
Across the street, as she swirled

Until darkness clouded her eyes
And hunters found their prey
In a blink of an eye
Was her home snatched away

Woke up to another world
In a small cage, the little bird
Stranger eyes and deafening noise
Fluorescent walls and red lights

Sing to them day and night
For that’s what they do
If they don’t want to die.
Sing to them, forget how to fly
There’s no key to this cage
You will never see the blue sky.

बेरंग सी दिखने लगी सारी सड़कें
जब आंखों से तुम ओझल हुए
मन में कितने ख्याल थे मेरे
जो आसुओं की बारिश में धुल गए
यूं तो सर्दी की शाम थी तब
चाय की चुस्की के बहाने ही रुक जाते
या डर था कि पूछ लूंगी मैं वो सवाल
जिससे तुम हमेशा हो कतराते –
क्या जाना ज़रूरी है?

If you want to hold me
but I want to fly
If I refuse to bow down
after our little bloody fight
If it’s not my tears this time,
But words, which rain
Tell me darling,
would you still love me the same?

After drizzles in monsoon
on some dusky evenings
I’d take you for a walk
For a glimpse of rainbow
And other beautiful dreams.

Don’t look back,
They say,
It’s a tree burning in forest fires,
An unfathomable ocean,
A ramshackled bridge
You’re standing on
That’s breaking loose from one end

Don’t look back,
It’s the past
Irreversible,
Like a flower that’s already bloomed
And as pointless as
A life jacket in a torched room

They say,
Forget about it
It’s like a bad habit
But,

Can a moth unlearn
Drawing towards the flame?
Can sunflowers shy away
From the sun?
Some things are deep rooted
They come without a skip button

Let me grow on you
Like a drug making you high,
Let me run in your veins
Like a painting of summer tree
Consuming the sky.

Crescent or full moon
Caramel or white
Hidden in the clouds
Or taking over the sky
You blatantly claim what’s yours:
The tides of the ocean
And all my attention.

The moonlight pays a visit
Every now and then
And draws my silhouette
As I look through this frame
Waiting for you –
When will it draw two?