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Dead of the Night

In the dead of the night, Where do you go searching for answers? When the shadows merge, To form a beautiful yet unconventional picture, Interpreted wrongly by the light, Surrounded linearly by the dark, When the silence of the night listens, To the chirping of the stars, When the dead trees shout, At the stillness of the wind, What do you do when the night gives up? And yet your eyes look as far as the horizon for answers, With no option in sight, you close your eyes, The deafening silence hits you hard, The picturesque shadows rush to whisper, And the intruding light creates an uproar, Then you interrogate the questions, Aren’t they always supposed to linger? Till the purpose finds another distraction, Till the curious soul finds another body, With this thought, you smile, We, the mere mortals can only question, Maybe searching is the only purpose Maybe answers are never to be found, And you shut your eyes, To dream of another world, Where the silence laughs and the light hustles, Wh
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It's Time to Erase Memories

For a fresh breath It's time to erase memories Memories of love and care Memories of the sun and the moon Memories of the universe around And all that's left is a void Ready to swallow us all The darkness of the closed eyes The monotony of the infinite universe Maybe just the imagination of a vile mind Or the reality of a faded soul Or the dream of a broken heart It will all vanish one day The writer's words and the written thoughts Only the echoes will remain Taking a road never taken Into the unknown origins of the lost worlds Into the silent roarings of the trapped souls Into the circled time bounded by the timeless clocks And that's how the memories will rebuild A writer peeping into the smoking void Looking for a fresh breath, scribbling “Probably, it is time to erase memories”
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A Dreamer's Legacy

Where can we roam to discover our ‘selves’? From a bird’s view To see ‘I” with another’s eye The eyes that can judge the lost kid Trying too hard to be remembered In search of a unique philosophy To stand out but only as a bubble The bubble in which he sleeps Dreaming of a great debate Between life and death Between God and Man Wakes up stuck in chains In a century gone wrong A generation divided Along darker invisible lines He looks up at the sky A blue mirror with the face Resembling the lost kid stuck in chains Still dreaming of a great debate He realizes it's all the same, The judge, the jury and the judgment No honesty in the absolute truth No shame in the comforting lie And then he concludes With everyone watching the same view There is no point To see ‘I’ with another’s eye
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#TinyTales#7

“Why do we go through it all over again? I don't want to hurt you, I don't intend to hurt you. But what is this complexity, this weird energy between us that the only emotion that comes out is anger?” He said to her while sitting on the floor with his veins popping out as if it were no longer part of his body. The entire room, suffocating at the same scenery painted for it every day, had stopped reacting. The idols, who had long forgotten the meaning of their presence, had st opped reacting. The night, which witnessed this shimmering darkness every day, had stopped reacting. But most importantly, she had stopped reacting. The next day, he woke up beside her, she made him breakfast, he kissed her goodbye and walked past the photo of him and her smiling - 'a memory', it said. He rushed to the office, crafted a banner and then joined the protest downstairs. The banner said, “Real men protect their women, they don’t abuse them”.
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#TheDesertedDesert

An oasis lost, The fort's a ghost, A desert lusting for life. A tradition suffocating, The modernization chest-thumping, Thar beating its norm.
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शायद चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को

तालाब वहीँ था, कश्ती वहीँ थी, लहरें बस यूहीं बह रही थी, और हवा भी बस युहीं मुस्कुरा रही थी,  मगर शायद अपनी परछाई को देखने चाँद आया था अमावस  की रात को. तारें वहीँ थे, बादल वहीँ थे, और बादल से निकलती बूँदें बस यूहीं मचल कर गा रही थी,  मगर शायद बादल के पीछे छुपने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को. पेड़ वहीँ थे, पत्ते हवा का साथ आज भी दे रहे थे, और शाखाओं पर बैठे पंछी आज भी प्यार के अफ़साने सुना रहे थे, मगर शायद अपने प्यार के किस्से सुनाने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को... धर्म की बातें आज भी कानों में गूँज रहीं थी, आंसू  एक मुस्कान को आज भी ढूंढ़ रही थी,  और वहीँ एक बुढ़िया खून की उस नदी में बादल की उन बूंदों को तलाश रही थी, मगर शायद उस रात का गवाह बनने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को. प्यार की इस धूप में नफरत का अँधेरा आज भी था, आंसू के बाढ़ में बहते उस एक कश्ती का इंतज़ार आज भी था,  और वहीँ एक गरीब आग की लपटों के बीच वो बहती हवा और मुस्कुराती लहरों को तलाश रहा था, मगर शायद उस रात को मजबूर बन कर रहने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को... खून के फव्वारे आज भी पहाड़
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#TheLogicalAbsurdist

“” She enters the world, steps into the unknown territory, haunted by the spirits of Lucifers of the world. Looks around, stares at her openings, the instant scanning of her body, the judgment passed through the eyes, she feels harassed, she feels abused. But she stands tall, wondering why can’t someone be punished for the impurity of the thoughts and not just actions. Oh the thoughts, the range is infinite. “If only I can pay someone to limit my thoughts”, he thinks. His world is surreal. The curse of his limitless thoughts is it actually limits the reality around him. The judgment is passed, the behavior is observed and the mortals compartmentalized. “It could be the other way around” he wonders and then corrects his action. “Action, yes, this is what is lacking in these people” he mumbled as he looks down and forcibly bows to this unjust treatment by his God. He is carefree in the eyes of the rich and careless in the eyes of the downtrodden. This share of happiness is unfai
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