Eyes :Poem












waiting eyes

dim with pain


questioning eyes

who says only houses are haunted

watch out for those haunted eyes

deceptive, misleading

Eyes that hold you captive

when faces become a blur

deep penetrating eyes

eyes that look but do not see

and those which see  and yet …

What does it  hold ?

this  labyrinth of eyes

what  hidden histories

what threads of life

what unknown thoughts

what passionate dreams

what agonies

what dark distresses

I watch

my eyes grown  fixed with guesses

No light for my blinded brain

Nothing, but just a heap of ash

devoid of embers or a spark

Memories : Two Poem

“This Post is being written for THE POETRY CONTEST at blogjunta.com as a part of WOMEN & BLOGGING month” and link it to www.blogjunta.com



Scarred, faded
jaded memories
kept alive
because sometimes
forgiveness is not
what we believe in

In the catacomb
of our hearts
they abound

a penance for loving thus..




We break

and go our own way


tattered remnants

of memories

tangled like shreds of cloth

stuck  in barbed wire fence


with each passing wind of time


Best of Indian Blogosphere 2010 Final Round Polling

Blogjunta BoIB polls

What a start to the new year. It really gives me a great pleasure to see that my writing is appreciated and my blog has been shortlisted in three categories Poetry , Fiction and Social Causes . I would like all my readers to go through my writings and make the right decision. If you think I am worth it . Do vote for me on the given links.

Anyone can vote .



Do read all my poem here : Poetry





Read all my stories

Short stories and memoirs

55 word fiction

Short stories





I write for change. All those who have not read my work as yet please do before voting.

Voting is on till 13th February so there is plenty of time to read and make your choice. Log into Facebook to vote.

Go indulge. 🙂

Lured by inner music that words make

Alright ,  I confess.


I tried to stay away , to rein the creative streak in me and apply myself to something else but the inner music that words make lured me back to my blog.


I would have gone insane if I had not written to empty my mind. This is an itch that can only be cured by the music your fingers make on the keyboard. ( it used to be the scratch of pen on paper … how times have changed)

I resisted the pull for a long time but ultimately had to give in. The questioning stare of the words hovering all around me was unbearable.

As James Michener says, “I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.”

My heart was overflowing with drafts and I had to write them down somewhere.

Facebook  is a great place to share notes , have debates but there is something amiss ..something that only this place can offer.

I shared some thoughts on FB and would love to share on my blog too.

From the Daemonic depths of Mind

It dug holes in my brain and planted itself. Its roots reaching deep and spreading in my nervous system. If I try to pull it out it shrieks like Mandrake torn out of earth. It can’t stand the unruly heart and its longing. Makes me feel like a vision seen in Opium sleep.It chides as loud as thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. Got to tame it.

I hear its whispers in hollowed shadows, I hear its murmurs as it flows beneath the maze of streets of my mind like some drunk colored liquid. Filling all empty spaces.

Slowly I have begun to understand its moves and my heart has softens for this pathetic creature.It only needed a vessel to grow and expand. It wanted to share the space with the dream world of creativity. It wanted to break the shackles of robotic programing. It was scared , lonesome and hungry for love. I decided to give it some space and it began to flourish at an amazing speed.

The shirking reduced considerably.

And then one day it crossed the line, trespassed into the world of inflaming passion and began to swirl and swirl untill it became a blur.

I feared that it may destroy itself and sucked it out of a dark dungeon.

I feel like a junkie addicted to it. I explore its depths and heights and I marvel at the intricate crisscross patterns  that it creates.

And yet there is something very potent that rides above it . My dreams. They hate intruders.

They have a mean streak. If needed they will swallow the mind.

They warn.

This is the dream I had some days back.

Two robed men, faces half painted in red and black, holding Katanas or something similar, a path leading into darkness, night, am being chased. I see flashes from the swords but never them, they are just two apparitions, I run for life, they chase but never get close enough. A dream I have had since sometime. Gets sinister every time. Is there a calling again ? Where is this path going? Dreams freak me out

And then

A week back I felt a presence in my bedroom. It must have been early morn because the alarm shrieked like a tortured soul in an hour or so.

I felt a presence , a male. it stood near my feet urging me to get up. I wanted to open my eyes but they felt heavy. Spirits don’t scare me. I struggled to open my eyes and suddenly with a jerk I was pulled to sitting position as if someone pulled me by my arms. My arms were inside the quilt.  I felt the heaviness of strong hands. They were cold hands.

Normally I wake up and look around trying to understand my surroundings but this time I was dazed and sliding down slipped back into slumber.

I wonder how I remember this dream. It doesn’t bother me though. Makes me curious.

What is this thing that haunts me?

Does it want to take me someplace ?

It makes me comfortably restless. What does this mean?

I take refuge in writing for all it is worth. My fingers feverishly tap dance on the keyboard. Possessed. Words neatly pop up on the screen neatly arranging themselves in sentences. I do nothing than watch.

I love this strangeness, feel blessed. If you have even a spark of it you will understand. Do not interpret it conventionally , it won’t be right.

It is weird stuff.

Have you been inside the mind of a lunatic? You must. It will freak you out with its brutal understanding of existence.

It will suck you in and spin you like a dancing dervish till you are dazed.

The creepy symbols , the lurking spirits, the storms inside the brain , the freaky dreams and portals that urge you to step on them all are indicative of something.

It is a jigsaw puzzle where all pieces need to be put into correct slot to get the complete picture and the pieces are scattered in various brains all over. They sometimes make contact .

And when they do something neat arises. Am I getting ready for such a contact ?

I do not know what prompts me to put this song link here but it really makes you comfortably numb Do listen

Blog Break – On a mission

The icy winds of last two three days have left behind a frozen chill. Wrapped in the nothingness I listen to the hushed voice of silence. It moves slowly through the dripping trees, above the wet grass, over the empty roads and along the paths leading inside the smoky ridge area.

The puppies cling to each other for warmth.  Sitting on dead branch an old crow watches their every move .  Leaves shiver with the slightest breeze and the sky is filled with a terrible longing for warmth of the sun.

My fingers freeze around the mug of coffee.

Change is always uncomfortable. Nights after nights I gazed at the glow stars on my bedroom ceiling , turning all known into a blur. New beginnings are scary. I have decided to take the challenge, to pave a path to freedom . I have a drawback. I have an itch to learn.It doesn’t matter whether I win or lose. If I set my heart on something I give my best shot to it even if I fail. The fact that I went out to the unknown territory and explored is a great high.

I want to take on what life offers. Life teaches us in many ways and one has to learn those lessons. We can weep and complain or laugh and learn,the choice is ours. We write  our screenplay and all depends on that.

Somehow I am unable to leave this space. It draws me, grows on me for some weird reason and yet I have to go.

I need to focus on this new chapter and test my limits. It is a time for hard work and complete surrender to that one goal.

I won’t be posting much here nor I will be able to read and comment on other blogs for sometime.

I just wanted to connect to all of you who have loved me, cared for me, appreciated my writings and stood by me in my darkest times.

I will be back for writing is my passion but right now there is no time for love.


The time has come to become an ant.

Proverbs 6:6 “Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!”

They are better goal seeker than any other species. Did you know that?

They follow the proven path, they are determined, never lose focus, they collaborate better than anyone, defeat is only temporary with ants they always come back in bigger numbers, they fearlessly defend and continuously expand( they build and build),.

Doing my readings about ants I noticed that ants adopt the old saying “There’s a time for work and a time for play.” They never get the two confused. When they are at work, they work, non-stop till its time for rest, then they rest.

As I write this I watch a sugar crystal walk away with the ant .It scales the sleep wall and maneuvers itself through the tiny gap in the window and after much effort it gains its freedom.

It reminds me another thing. Ants expect more from themselves than possible. They never limit themselves to mental limits like us.

I am setting higher goals, venturing into unknown, raising my stakes. I know it will be backbreaking but I am willing.

So it is good-bye for sometime. Ones in a while when my muse wants me to shed it all and just dance  under the moonbeams , I will and you all will know :))

wish me luck, wish me success and when you see a little blade of grass shimmer in sunshine or a delicate sapling break and emerge out of a crack in the wall or a sidewalk Think of me.

This moment is mine : Poem

I live  a little

with each moment

the past is nothing

but a bucket of ashes

and future

just a distant dream

I trust not

Two thieves

disguised as

regret and fear

stealing the present

I live just a little

every moment

My heartbeat

sound of crackling flames

my breath

fanning the fire

that drives my soul

My being

one simple song

playing out to

life’s bittersweet symphony

I try to dance in tune

to play my part

before the lights fade

and curtain draws

I savor my time

my fifteen seconds of

A lifetime

National Capital Turns 100 : A century goes by

This post is written for Blogeshwar and Anubooti

On December 15, 1911 King George v laid the foundation stone for New Delhi. Now 100 years after its inception the national capital of Delhi has overspilled its boundaries and has layers within layers. On one hand it is aggressive competitive energetic and violent and on the other  vibrant colorful seeped in nostalgia and old world charm.

Even with population of 17 million people from within and outside India Delhi has never closed its doors to anyone and as it gently mixes all new elements it grows culturally. Anyone who resides in Dilli becomes a ‘dilliwala’  irrespective of religion, caste or creed.

Delhi is a beautiful kaleidoscope of sounds, colors, people, places, cuisines, festivals all through the year. One gets fantastic exposure to different cultures, ideas and one can experience so many diverse worlds with this big city.

Delhi’s mood varies from locality to locality. The by-lanes of Old Delhi are like a surreal art house movie taking you to a different time zone and then there are sprawling parks, university campuses , the ridge areas thick with wood and grass and all their unsolved  mysteries.

Although the city has residents from all over the country , the Punjabis who thronged the city post partition are the most visible and audible lot. The big fat panjabi weddings, the fashionable aunties ranging from Karol Bag to Defense Colony and all that goes with their kitty party culture . It adds spice to life whatever one may say.

Dillwalas are a special breed. Warm hearted  generous and outgoing and yet ferocious  bad mouthed ready to kill. Deadly combination which makes the outsiders wonder what stuff they are made of.

We all know about the cultural heritage , the history and the geography of the city. We know of its rich cuisine ranging from the sumptuous stuff from the walled city to the swanky restaurants and food joints of pompous South Delhi.

The city holds many secrets. Places waiting to be explored like the Purana Quila park, Jamali Kamali park and all those big and little monuments scattered all over Delhi. Apart from these are the usual dense tangle of tombs, mosques, baolis(wells), old gates and forts there are old temples, gurudwaras, churches and much more.

The city comes alive during festive season.  Eid-ul-Fitr, Diwali, dussera , Holi ,  Christmas and all the other minor ones. The city prays, fasts, gorges on great food and celebrates together. Everyone is drenched in the color of bonhomie and reverence irrespective of their religion.

I grew up with Old Delhi food and it is still unmatched . The sweets – imarti, jalebees, rasmalai, rabri,  khurchan , pedas, nankhatai and all the other mouth-watering delicacies which are specialties of the walled city . The namkeens – power packed samosas, kachoris, matar kulcha, chole bhature, kebabs and the variety of mughlai food.

Then we have the famous butter chicken ( not meant for the weak hearted) 😀 and the lassi malai marke and the delicious kulfi with faluda. There is something sensuous about the street food of Delhi including the bhuna bhutta ( roasted corn cobs) , shakarkandi (roasted sweet potato), sweet corns and momos . You actually can not understand this unless you make a visit to the capital and relish these. There is so much variety of food here that one can go on about it and write a book on it .

I have been to places tucked away in small lanes away from the madding crowd , places which dish out wonders. Places in Paharganj like the German Bakery there . absolute heaven for foodies like me.

The dhabas have become rare now and I miss the little tandoors which used to be a part of almost all localities. We still have some in other parts of Delhi but South Delhi lacks such simple pleasures as far as I know.

Every region of Delhi from Central fast paced Connaught place to the sloping tin roofs of laid back Kashmere gate , the posh South Delhi and the ruins of Mehruli  to the Step-child East Delhi  all the areas have a very distinctive way of life.

There is something else about the power-hungry Delhi , a dark side . Amidst all the beauty the city is divided in hearts. It is my personal feeling. The South Delhi person will look down upon an East Delhi or a North Delhi one . Students from University’s  North Campus hardly mingle with the South Delhi college students. There is always a prestige issue. Somewhere a big ego clash. There is a definite divide between the Hindi speaking and the so-called “modern” english speaking people and then there are people from other states especially Bihar and UP who are normally considered down market .

The rich have become richer and the poor are still there where they were 100 years back. The middle class is swollen with its own importance.

The residents of old Delhi consider all others outsiders. They say we don’t have it in us. Something is amiss maybe that tehzeeb , that feeling of brotherhood and warmth of togetherness is lacking in today’s so-called dilliwalas.

The city tops in crime. molestation, rapes, killings road rage you name it Delhi has it all. Women are unsafe in the capital. Very rarely one finds a stranger ready to help. The trust issue is missing completely especially in New Delhi.

Roads have become wider, hearts smaller. the high-rise buildings, the swanky malls and the development to make it a great modern city has made holes in the very fabric of Delhi that was .

Although communities gather for festivals etc yet there is a void among people.

Delhi is intolerant in some areas, its residents small-minded and untrustworthy. It is strange that so many cultures mingle in the main stream like little rivulets in a mighty river and yet one can not see them as one.

Life here in the capital has changed so dramatically in last few years. It is sad to see that a Muslim or a Kashmiri will not find a place on rent so easily in the capital. People are skeptical , judgmental and prejudiced  at times.

There is an unrest in the hearts of people. . The city is unsafe.

Something dark flows as an undercurrent in the minds of people here . Something that is mysterious and dangerous.

It is all about money and power. It is like a gas chamber ready to burst and yet there is that clam and serenity that makes Delhi what is it. Difficult to comprehend and describe .

Amidst noise of traffic a city wakes from slumber and slowly goes through the mundane routines of life.

Disconnected, and undistinguished the ruins of past and the hundred year old trees watch the city of immigrants and their oblivious nature . Apprehensive about their survival the trees wonder when they will be cut down to give way to a mall or an  expressway. Each group of immigrants  tries to establish their culture and mark their territory rather than embracing  the existing one.

In this daily hustle of living for survival the city is forgotten , its culture and  history kept aside.

I love the city , its natural beauty ( whatever is remaining) , its seasons and riot of colorful blooms, its old world charm and modern facilities , its food and culture but I have

reservations about its people.

Delhi is a chameleon metropolis changing colors at the blink of an eye.

A city with global aspirations — and one that is a veritable melting pot of Indian culture – Delhi is a fascinating adventure of people shaping the city and vice-versa.

There has been a slow  transformation of the old city of tehzeeb to  the ”you-know-who-my-father-is” culture . People come here to build their dreams and in that process an old city is slowly dying an unnatural death. The original Delhi is fighting a losing battle of survival  in the urban jungle.

In the last 100 years the original Delhi has slipped back in time to give way to the so-called “world-class New Delhi” the power capital of India. Urbanization has made rapid strides but the old charm and allure of this beautiful City is lost forever.

I look at Delhi’s landscape under the orange hue of fading winter sun  and try to unravel the mystery and the present surge of my city.


I leave you with lines from Wordsworth’s poem The world is too much with us


The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!