I make overtures towards you, 

Seemingly desperate, 

Desperate to know you. 

I want to paint your portrait, 

Using the brushes of my eyes, 

The strokes of your smile. 

And bring it to life, 

With your unfulfilled desires that 

You convey to your busted heart. 

The tiny bits of your tedious life 

That leaves you bellow,

The experiences that you mirror

In the gleam of your eyes.

So that when I have truly read you, 

I could call it a masterpiece.



With my head resting against my chest, 

You resting on the table, 

I bend myself over you, 

To get the glimpse of your far end,

Multiple patterns of 

Varying sizes and shapes, 

Of cliffs and plateaus, 

With steep precipices, 

The place where a depressed soul

Detached itself from life. 

Lifting you up, 

Paralleling you with the ground, 

I see a new pattern forming 

Of myriad shapes and sizes, 

It’s a beautiful valley, 

With greenery and livelihood abounding, 

A place where happiness 

Seemed so prevalent, 

Reaching the levels of contagiousness. 
Now, I lift you again 

Above my head, 

And with gravity aiding, 

The shapes fall towards me, 

Like huge rocks, from mountains infused with anger, 

Tempting themselves with the 

Contentment to overthrow the world, 

And rippling human lives, 

Creating an evil disaster 
I change your angle to forty five degrees, 

And with that swirling motion, 

Something again forms, 

Lost travellers, thirsty and parched, 

Frantic for water to extend their life, 

And magically, a waterfall and spring appears forth, 

Nature is a great superhero. 
I keep flipping you about, 

Rotating you at my whim, 

And every time, I see something new, 

A valley, a rale, a spring, a dale, an ocean, a cliff, a animal, a bird, 

And if there’s no novelty in the view, 

There’s something new about the perspective, 

Something soothing, something different. 

Life would have been so much easier

If we saw each others view, if we

Believed in kaleidoscopes. 

Ode to the Best Friend

We all have best friend/s, and how much we miss them. Let’s sing our love for them.

I miss you, 

I am at fault in putting a measure to that value, 

A value that seems inconceivable, 

I just miss you. 

The frankness of childhood, 

The truthful nature of our emotions, 

The absence of beguiling, 

The excitement to meet each other, 

I just miss everything. 

Growing up together, 

Partners in the same class, 

Passing along food and conjunctivitis alike, 

Over innocence and shades in school, 

We grew up. 

Separated from you, next year, 

I couldn’t wait for the recess, 

The time that I could share with you 

My biscuits and, 

The happenings of my day, 

And listen to your musings, 

Over shared motherly sandwiches and burgers. 

Time passed and you found love, 

But love for me was just you then. 

I used to sit and listen to all the stories that you had, 

Your first date, first touch, first kiss, 

And convey happiness of your smile to my heart. 

School passed, college came. 

We became distant, new experiences, new friends, 

But, birthdays were rarely missed, 

Forgotten wishes needed much compensation, 

Of long talks or surprises, 

And we gradually grew up. 

I found love, you explored more. 

We changed cities, but the bonding was same. 

You changed countries, but the bonding is constant. 

I’m reminded of you 

Whenever I am made aware of an absent best friend, 

To whom I could let my heart flow, 

And get the best advices, 

I miss my wingman. 

Whenever we called or met, 

Time remained still, 

We could talk for hours and hours, 

You always hanging up, 

And I wishing to listen more. 

We shared problems and worked solutions. 

We still have problems but distant solutions. 

I know you’re busy but always there, 

I know you’ll care, you’re always there. 

I don’t need to be reminded that by a call or text, 

But that’s what the heart desires, 

Living proof of love, 

Proving genuineness of friendship, 

How fickle, how low.

But I miss you, I’ll miss you more. 

I wish to be the best man at your wedding, 

I wish to dance away your wedding night, 

I wish to share all our experiences, 

I wish to sing crazy bollywood songs when sitting pillion, 

I wish to be yelled at by you for my silly mistakes, 

I wish to be seeking advice for all my innocence, 

I wish to have life conversations under the stars, 

I wish, I wish I didn’t have to miss you so much. 

Emotional Wreck

A delve into the cocktail world of emotions.

You were the iceberg, 

Mighty and firm. 

Silently had you set your fort 

In the calm waters of the tumultuous sea, 

Adding ripples of your own mood. 

But, I underestimated you, 

Seeing only,  your tip,   

Sparkling in majesty, 

Challenging the skies above. 

However,  here I remained, 

Aloof about your deep roots, 

your buried end, 

That was strong, and 

Trembled every heart, 

And the ocean floor below. 

I was the ship, 

Desiring to make you my own. 

Attracted by that bizarre sparkle, 

Shining against the glaring sun, 

As if million diamonds conjoined under 

Some mysterious spell, 

To overthrow sun in the race. 

I darted at you, 

An arrow released from a bow, 

Aiming straight at you. 

My desire to hold you 

Reached magnanimous heights 

As soon as I got close. 

I knew I would make it. 

As an arrow striking the red dot, 

Hitting the target. 

I considered myself so colossal 

With my mighty board and large sails. 


We had that emotional clash. 

A passionate disaster, 

I steered right into you, 

And smashed my heart 

Against your firm one,

Breaking it into a million pieces. 

You have made me an emotional wreck, 

All my pieces are still floating, 

Aimlessly to reach ashore, 

To a land called home, 

Where someone can conjoin 

Me back from

This emotional wreck. 

Superhero Fooled

There are many who consider being strongly empathetic is nothing less than a superpower, but how this power damages us ourselves is also a part of this story.

You know, my friend,  what I think? 

I think 

I reek of superhero capabilities:

For I feel each emotion so dearly

Empathy and compassion are my superpowers

And in my power,  I augment peace for you

By adding,

Mirth in your happiness,

Joy in your success,

Bitchery in your irritation,

However, sometimes

I try to save you from perils and strive to lessen your burden,

By replacing,

sadness with joy

fear with acceptance

And anger with calmness.
But, my friend you disdainfully believe –

My superheroic capabilities

Make me nonchalant and apathetic

As if

I’m above feelings and sentiments and

Do not succumb to emotions. But,

Didn’t you know?

Superhero I maybe,  but with

A heart,  wrought with passion and devotion

Caged to desires and depression,

To glee and frustration,

To anger and contemplation.

We’re emotional fools too

Because superheroes are human too.

We’re poets; we’re heartbroken 

I think this one is relatable to all those who have written endlessly to quench the inner frustration and subdue their dilemma.

Sitting aghast;

chained by thoughts,

Amidst the tears.

They seem to form a pool around,

A pool of seclusion,

A pool of solidarity and insolence.
Slowly desires change,

Anger thrusts in the

face of sadness,

And finally dwells over.
The anger pinches you,

Punches you,

Bores holes, holes

deeper than man – holes.
You’re choking in

Your self made emotions,

That emotional claustrophobia

Leaves you gasping for air,
It’s not air that you want,

It’s respite.
Feeling, why do you have these

Feelings in the first place,

Slowly, you envy that

Apathetic friend,

Who glees at everything.
You still can’t breathe.

It clenches you,

Dry mouth, parched throat.

You pick up your pen.
You start writing your storm.

The words that you write,

Powerful than tornadoes,

Tornadoes that ripped your heart,

Your body, your world.
You write, write till the doorway of your

Emotions doesn’t close

You write, till you reach the

Threshold of normalcy.
Eyes swell, heart slows,

Breath normalizes.

There’s a feeling,

A vague feeling of respite.
Your desires are quenched,

You’re still heartbroken,

The turmoil has reduced

But it’s still there.
Wondering, soliciting, still unsure,

If the storm is gone?

Or this is the calmness,

Before the next storm?
You then ponder on,

A dilemma that you can never answer –

To have these feelings,

And be heartbroken poets or,

To read heartbroken poets.

Not a Daughter! 

This is a reflection of a man’s pain and the dilemma he faces of not being a father to a daughter.

​I don’t long for a daughter. 

I want a son. 

I never wish for a daughter. 

I need a son. 

No I don’t indulge in female foeticide

No, I’m not a misogynist 

Neither I’m a supporter of patriarchy 

Nor I’m a patron of  masculine superiority 
I’m not even that male chauvinist pig 
I don’t wish for a daughter. 

Because we’re hypocrites 

We will have Laxmi Pooja yearly 

But will restrict our daughters to earn 

Because who will do household chores 

And raise children at home? 

We worship Saraswati 

But will devoid education to our girls 

Because they’re meant to be married as soon as they strike puberty. 
I don’t wish for a daughter 

Because I’m scared 

Of the monstrous beasts that abound

Who unhesitatingly molest publicly 

And people rarely bat an eye. 

I’m scared of people who create Nirbhaya 
And shamelessly do it each day 

I’m scared of the public and the politicians 

Who will blame my daughter

For her skimpy clothes or her sweet nature 

Which turned on the assailant’s beast mode 
I don’t wish for a daughter 

Because we’re disillusioned 

I don’t want her to believe that 

Sita had to prove her purity or

Draupadi had to be derobed even in 

The presence of five pandvas

I don’t want her to believe that 

An item number is necessary in every movie she sees

That girls are Munni, Sheila and Laila

And they are meant to be jawan or badnam 
I don’t wish for a daughter 

Because I’m a conditional sexist 

I will be unwilling to give my daughter freedom 

As much as I will give my son

I will impose restrictions on her timing 

So that I can sleep peacefully at night 

I won’t allow her to go far from home

What will I do if something happens to her 

I won’t allow her to wear short clothes 

As some beast may get turned on. 
I don’t wish for a daughter 

Because I’m insecure 

I won’t  be able to sleep at night when she’s out with her friends 

I won’t be able to breathe peacefully when she moves out 

I won’t be able to protect my fairy from monsters that abound 

Ultimately  I’m scared that I won’t be the man who was meant to be her superhero.