Why is life so complicated for some of us? Why can’t some of us think straight, with clarity, and without doubts? Does this sense of feeling detached, of feeling different from the rest stem from one’s own failure?

Why is childlike innocence looked down up on? Why does love get such a bad name? Why is affection a sign of weakness?

Why is a stoic resolve to act like a stone which only makes a dent in others acceptable and commonplace?




Muted Talk

Block block,

boycott me

Put restraints on me
Ban my talks
Restrict it all
Stop, stop
Mute my voice
Hush me up
Shush me up
Take my speech away
Mock mock
laugh at me
kill me
Stifle me
buttstroke me
Knife me
Take my voice away
Words however will always stay


Sometimes I love the idea of hate,

I like to disappoint at things I am the best.

I am a smirker laughing inside,

a hard worker, shirking outside.

My best memories I can’t recall,

A permanent tattoo long erased and gone.

Safe to say that danger is what I crave,

I am a nomad fixated with a place.

Bright lights frighten my dark soul,

darkness is a ray of hope for me.

I see things more clearly at night,

daylight a sight I despise.

My open mind is locked to your point of view,

My curiosity stops at the what my mind does not know.

Travelling for me is sitting at one place,

Talking for me is silence in a crowded place.

Sanity is being sanely insane.

Living is dragging a lifeless life all around.

Opposites, you will say.

I will say – no, they are the same; just put together differently.







13 Lessons I Learnt from Bereavement (Death of a Parent)

I was a happy, confident, proud 30-year old till 10:30 pm on February 12, 2016 when I saw my father – frozen, with lifeless eyes – on bed. A couple of hours later he was gone for good hopefully to a better place. What initially “felt” like numbness (yes, an oxymoron) turned into a vortex of emotions –– hopelessness punctuated with sobs, interspersed with morbid thoughts of the end of everything, followed by a sense of relief that his suffering was much less than it could have been (he died of cardiac arrest). This, ensued with the idea that may be he could have been saved. May be…

His death is something that I had never thought of. I took his presence, his life, his body and his breath for granted; his stooped shoulders, his slow gait, and his salt-and-pepper hair for granted. This soul-crushing experience has been traumatic for me and has also taught me:

  • That death of your parent is an insurmountable grief that can only be defeated –– bit by bit –– by time
  • That the gaping hole left in the heart probably never fills up
  • That you are now left with one person less in this world who loved you unconditionally
  • That abandonment may hit you hard
  • That it’s stupid to expect support – it is in times of death of a loved one, or any other personal loss equating it, when some people deemed close may give up on you
  • That you might feel angry and be filled with spite and venom for those who do not treat you the way you want to be treated or fail to lend you an ear or a shoulder to cry on
  • That your anger may be based on delusions; you might just not be getting their idea of support, sympathy, and even empathy
  • That this dangerous, self-destructive anger could actually burn bridges and make you repent words said when passions were running high, because it is only your mother and your sibling(s) who are experiencing the same as you are and sympathizers might fail to understand your psyche at this juncture
  • That it might be a little difficult to pick up the pieces again and get back into the rut
  • That writing might help (the way it is right now)
  • That it is OK to take it easy, slow up the pace, lean back, relax and reflect on life with him
  • That this is a great way of nature to acquaint you with your latent strength, which perhaps you could not have fathomed otherwise
  • That this is the lowest point on life’s capricious curve; it will take an upward turn after you have some semblance of normalcy someday

Shades of Life

Happiness – different shades of yellow

Like a glimpse of a yellow submarine

The zesty zest of a yellow lemon

Or the cheerfulness of a bright yellow sun

Melancholy – shades of black and grey

Like the eerie calm of a black night

Or a forlorn grey overcast sky

Black as the dilated pupils of an addict high

Anger – all hues of menacing red

Like the frightful crimson of vampire eyes

Or vermilion gushing out of a dead

Morbid molten lava entering the river bed