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look at her..
gaping at that man!
look at her..
not wearing a bra!
look at her..
kissing a guy at 12 in the night!
look at her..
she's not a virgin!
look at her..
she's had so many boyfriends!

Oh my god..look at her..
all face, no shame!
she struts on the Jhunjhunu roads
all 'sexual'..in Gandhi's name!
hah! one hell of a girl..
bloody characterless!

'you handle her sonika...you only got her here!'
'all right..fine..! i have no fear!'
'i'll set straight, i have the 'modern' morality
which says, she needs to take care of her sexuality!

sexuality..my ass..!
ooh which happens to be sexual again..!!
haha..hahaha...go on..
laugh on my face again!

We love '11 mins'..
and ooh what a strong character!
We talk about the 'other sex'..
and love Anne M.Valk..
what a concept..
but when someone lives...
she becomes character-less!

Yes..it is..it is the face of EDUCATED mind..
It is the face of Experimental minds..
This is the face of everyone who has moved to 'wanting' to believe in an ideology
This is the face of those whi have never had the GUTS to live that ideology!

Look at her...
now as they say...
'watch out manmohan..
you might just be a prey!'
look at her now..
how mellow she's gone..
'so manmohan did it..
finally..atleast HE won!'

look at her...@##$%^%$^@#
look at her..!@$%$^&*^*^%

Look at her..#$%&&&*%^
Look at her....%%^^&

look at me...
stare at me..
point at me...
but its you who rub your dicks at me!
its me..the same one..
who has learnt to ware a bra!
it's me..the same one...
who is capable of giving..!
look at me..now..
yes its me...im the 'girl' of your best friend..
hah..Now love me..because i now collapse in your den!


Nails and Hair

Nails and hair

Dead dreams and dead hopes,

Falling in clumps,

Falling by the wayside.


Nails and hair

Brittle and fragile,

Dead dreams and hopes,

Those gone before are irreplaceable,

For every one death, thousands follow.


Hopes and dreams

Like hair and nails,

Grow back on,

Obstinately, like it’s a duty they are bound to follow.


One life.

Million nails. Trillion strands of hair.

One pushing the other out in its eagerness to be born.

We miss them when they are gone

But life soon moves on.


Polished nails. Shining hair.

Symbols of beauty and privilege.

A lifetime of achievements,

Of dreams come true,

Indications of triumph of  Da Vinci’s (wo)man.


Hopes and dreams are

The landscapes of the heart.

The fodder for impossible deeds,

Acts unheard of,

The tools for conquering every fear.


Look after nails and hair,

They are fleeting ideas of grace and refinement.


Dreams and hopes give us definition,

Nails and hair grow on everyone.




I sit and breathe,

My breath reaches far away.

The surface of the stars catch it.

And they shine while I’m dull here.

I witness your fall.

It was a battle out of time.

I tried to fit in.

It was out of space.

Out of time and out of space. Out.

Everything got crushed..sucked in.

Thoughts, mind, feelings, heart…my whole being.

Existence has stuck. Stuck.

Reason – the greatest force of all.

I believe.

Believe: it’s all I’ll ever do.       

eternal enigma..

As I drag myself on a narrow stretch of broken road

-         a murky pathway

passing through the deep green forests.

As the sun shines ahead

And the rays peep through

The rustling leaves

New ones shimmering – dipped in dew

‘suddenly I realize

-         the reason for my being

so much to do

so much to see

but much more to feels:

the eternal enigma

the distances

the differences

the bridges and the gaps

-         sometimes good, sometimes bad.

“The Variety” – they say

divine, destined.

To others “it’s ugly”

Man-made, designed.

Who likes to debate?

No more I can judge,

I cannot deny

The ‘difference’ I enjoy

And how much do I hate

The distances which make me cry.


With the shifting sands

From beneath my feet

I roll back into my dream-

When I slept in silence

Under the star-studded sky

And I dreamt-

Of me walking a narrow stretch of broken road,

A murky pathway

Passing through the deep green forests.

I can see through the separating clouds

The images of past

In those memories I feel

-         the touch of breeze;

the redolence of flowers.

As the clouds drift closer

I feel the rain

Which once washed away all reasons of pains.

 With the shifting sands,

I come back to life.

But my souls remains trapped

Into the memories that last;

Into the images of the Past.

A new morality..

She looks at him playing with pieces of paper

She watches his hands as they pick up the pen

She is a wistful spectator of carefree actions

Defined as the sole privilege of men.

Going about her daily work

Surrounded by life, yet quite alone

Taking solace in all things familiar, yet

Heart aching for pleasures unknown.

She passes by the old school building

Like everyday, quietly sets down her urn

Straining her eyes, hidden by the door

The boys are unwilling, but she’s desperate to learn.

She yearns for education, to go where no one has tread before

But she’s of age now, and must be married off instead.

Gazing into the heavens, reaching out for the stars

Her dreams all shattered, her life is a farce.

A voice is heard, she speaks out at last

Unheard, unheeded, frail, withdrawn

The solitary voice falters in the silence

Defeated, she falls, and her heart is torn.

They laugh bitterly at her fruitless endeavor

Tears fill her eyes, she’s imprisoned forever.

Is there a new morality?

One day, some day but not just yet.

There’s need for old shackles to be cast away

Traditions to be re-built, new rules to be set.

Have we moved forward, has India progressed?

The gap between men and women compressed?

Are the counsels of history thus to be unheeded

And change to occur, except where needed?

It’s time to wake up, to gain what we lack

For each pace forward, there’s been a step back.

It’s time to gaze into the horizon

It’s time to welcome, face-first, the dawn

And be swept along as change unfolds

And face with courage what future holds.

conversation with coffee

My coffee table muse,
Hot black coffee
Stirring, whirling, flowing.
Eyes meet across
Streams of hot vapour
Emanating…Vapid wandering through
Thought laden clouds
Drifting fleeting
Words appear,
Choices, Voices..opinions unfold,
Life stories told…
Loves, Laughter,
Heartbreaks – Tears?...
Shared dreams….?
Yet..rent asunder…
By choices, Voices, Noises…
Stir, stare,
Ponder, wonder…
I wonder…if you have a phone number….?


is 'moving' from the physical sphere
really a 'movement' all fair?
is it a shift?
shift to a higher order 'thinking'?
are looks really 'un-important'?
or is it really 'un-like' me?
or is it for the world to see?!

'you are beautiful' he said
skipping a beat - my heart,
shed some light for my head
maybe it isnt all that bad
or cud be a defence for being 'sad'.

defence..is it?! i confirmed
my ME is lost, rest assured!!

it flows through the greens of the jungle
it flows warm across the sea
it burns itself in the flame
with head covered...
in the name of CHASTITY!

dust on the wheels

there's something settling on the memory lane
is it dust? is it toxic?
or is the way i have put it?!
dust on, inside, around and over
hiding under the covers..lower..yet lower

it's on the 'good' with the nanda times
it's on the 'bad' of the kshitij's chimes
birthday wishes terned all sour
caught kissing..craving for more.

dee-pee-ess..as the name holds
comes with strings and hollow moulds
'oh..that's cuz she's a dipsite'
reaches a room before i do
casting away its hallow shores
as i stand..shouting 'me too!'

the 'Leadership with Social Responsibility'
thumps with the el.ed-ian accountability.

dust is 'on' on the el.ed-ian times
result: 'Declared later, if necessary'
all this takes a back seat
with neon lights & storm's wines!

the only hand that pulls me through
has been, my brandy...you.
drunk on you,i walk away
arms outstretched, gets no preys.

a marlboro in hand that coughs
sitting at amar col, middle of the road
coughs and coughs..till i drop!
lucky ciggie..easy to go!

what was it?
toxic waste..?
or white dust..
or maybe..jus purple haze!


pierce me through
turned into a stone..
a numb object
never ashone.

rising high
falling low
swept with the tide
tired no more.

down down down i fall
into the blue..
black seems distant
all for me to screw..

never known anyone
noone ever known
falling into the trap,
i fall for everyone known..



Latest Month

October 2009