My Corner

Soft absorbed in the tough.

I can see hair, due to be shaven, standing on my arm.

When light from a faint source hit my glasses.

It feels like a spotlight on all the self-inflicted gloom.

My corner is eating me up.

But I’m too tired to be anywhere else.

So wait for circumstance to push me.

Till then I rest ( push ) against the wooden side

Of my corner.


Tell Me

Tell me its okay

Dreaming about the future

To get past the present

Patience was never my virtue

So tell me if its my vice

to try and imagine

A place where I want to be

Someday, Any day

Tell me it exists

And I will get there

I will live and breathe it

Just as I wish I could now.



Lenses down

Focus to blurr

Rub away the strain

And set of fireworks

So noiselessly colourful.


Rest your eyes, darling.

They are tired of scrutinising every inch of your skin 

Like it was expensive wallpaper

You wanted to slap on every wall of your room,

Forcing your stringently perfect aesthetic 

Onto every visitor.


If we could feel and not see

Then wouldn’t we agree

That the shape of a smile

Is vastly more beautiful 

Than the colour of skin?

Best Friends

Its all about

holding hands

And dancing in circles 

like little children in kindergarten trying to keep up 

With the increasing tempo of the song they sing, 

all in different notes, varying pitch, but in unison nonetheless 


If one trips

The rest slow down

So he can get back up,

Laughing it off like he meant it to happen

And the others join in while dancing together in circles again

Because that is what best friends do. 


Auron se kyun chupke rehta hai?

Deewaron ke peeche se jhaanke

Kyun mann hi mann tu rota hai?

Unko khulke hasta dekhke

Kya tera bhi jee karta hai?

Jab woh baarish mein naache jhoomke

Tu chhate ka bojh kyun uthaata hai?



To be or not to be

I can’t fathom this dichotomy

I don’t flip a coin

Options were never mine

Is there a yes to a no?

My highest is still low

I see mirrors not glass

Light hits but doesn’t pass

Doors close, none open

Heard everything, never spoken

Your path has forks

Both frequented roads

I dig a tunnel underneath

Looking for a way in between


Chicken Soup for My Soul

Wrapped up in warm fuzziness and reading perfectly normal literature, thank you very much.

Hot, milky tea with just the right amount of ginger, glazing my palate like raindrops on my bedside window.

Applying the same non-sticky moisturizer after a hot shower and smelling like myself again.

Cheese popcorn buckets and lemon mojitos remaining untouched till a movie starts.

Studying maths in the middle of the night for its beautifully simple coherence and knowing I won’t be graded for it.

Newly bought black nail paint gliding on my perfectly filed nails with James Bay in my room all to myself.

Watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine on repeat and seeing my Bakerstreet Boys in action.

Looking at the pristine white dome of the Gurudwara on my way to college and offering a silent prayer.

The truest thoughts of my introverted self stored anonymously on the World Wide Web.

A handful of people with whom I can live on a deserted island forever.

Meditating early in the morning like its the only thing that matters in life.