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Sunday, 24 February 2013


Inking on the pages at this dead time 
Jobless, hopeless and devoid of any melody or chime

I overheard someone say love is in the air
I rose to grab, but in vein, is it fair?

The thin air whispered in my ear
It’s not love its February winter go get something to wear

A shriek emanated from the adjacent room
With my pants still halfway, I ran to found the doom

Poor chap was cajoling the ‘lady’ on line
By a single minute he had missed the 12’o clock wish deadline

Out of curiosity I inquired by passers what was the scene?
Pitying me for my feigning they left but made me more keen

Determined, I got hold of a ‘stud’, what is the rush all about?
Sensing a bereaved,’ stud’ in an unusual calm voice informed me its love night

Cajoling ‘poor chap’ suddenly crossed my mind for a while
Was this really the night of love for they were ready to walk the mile

Then it dawned upon me I am single and still waiting for my love of day
I echoed “will be different “and it won’t start in feb and end in may

If not today, I will wait a decade to make you mine
One day, yes, you will be my valentine

DEDICATED TO GIRL who has the cutest smile in this whole world :)

UNTIL WHEN? कब तक?

One more day, one more night of underlying horror, of tattered clothes and more violation, not only of law, but, of dignity, of already vulnerable humanity. One more unceasing string of news channels reporting her ‘crushed world’ to the ‘castrated’ masses demanding castration for the savage brutes.
                                                             The whole nation is crumbling, the fear hidden deep in many layers  is stark naked. Fear that my daughter is not safe, my sister may not roam freely. Country is witnessing one of its major revolts, protest has become synonymous with voice of justice, anger suppressed since ages has erupted and the whole system is facing the heat. Honey coated promises are again being bucked by our ‘respected’ leaders. Strict vigilance has been put in place and suddenly every man who till yesterday was all praise for his chauvinism is flooded with uncontrollable urge to bobbitise those inhuman and is feeling warmth of sudden rush of respect for fairer sex.

                                             But even a slight peep into ‘yesterday’ and the most disturbingly natural question haunts me ”TILL WHEN?” will this be an end to age long tradition of worshiping women by keeping her in temples in name of durga and kaali and stepping down the stairs of temple to humiliate her at every step, to create boundaries to confine her, to sow down seeds of meekness and compromise with wrong in her from the very tender stage, to teach her to be a good sister, a good wife and to bend down to every whims of man

                                                                                                        These assaults on women are not an outcome of a sudden provocation of  a psychopath who was aroused by a woman(we just hope the arousal doesn’t occur in you when you see your sister after a bath)wearing clothes of her choice. these barbaric attacks are collective outburst of a stinking mindset of a decaying society. We, at the grass root level are responsible for enhancing this visible n silent violence on women. We, the society catalyzes the rotten mind of a woman hater by inducing him with an idea that she is weak, she can be exploited, she can be rammed, she must bend to his whims.

The gaping crater of this unsung bias is so deep that our most naïve chores seem to be influenced by it. It is flowing in our veins with blood. We may accept, we may not at some stage our decisions are biased by this bias .A mother teaches her daughter to wear ‘decent’ clothes in name of society and the same society after every incident seems to be altering the very definition of this ‘decent’.

                                              “woman must be safe” yes, of course she should be but in a course of day? These protests, these slogans seem to work only for the period media is garnishing revenues out of them. Once the media turns sour we will be back to our job of turning this society ‘societal’, the girl will be forgotten , police will sleep again and society will work until a new wolf tears out of its womb(society) and again the same cycle of allegations ,protests, reforms(I wish they could be of our mindset) will be executed and what is left after each execution is a mutilated life, who after facing a gruesome assault on her individuality faces extradition from her dreams, exilic wrath from the same society who one claimed to stand by her side.

Apparently after a row of years her convicts will be free but she (if survives on first hand) will be forced inside prison of one society to forget another.


Numbing Chill in the air spark stimuli
To Slain a dream or eluding the memory
A dream of face shimmering with a radiant smile
A memory of laugh shared for a while
Dusty layers of past, thick into my today
A dream of perseverance, a dream driving my everyday
Dream of black curls keep me awake
Memory of last embrace, the first kiss we make
A dream lives in first ray of sun
Cauldron of energy, haul of gun
A memory becomes a feathery touch on cheek
When the pieces of broken dream make me weak
When the dream becomes passion
Memory feels bilked, a part of session
When the memory becomes reality
My dream cries infidelity
Confined in the nothingness of this dimensionless sky
Temptation of both the seductions lure me high
The chill in the air spark stimuli
To slain a dream or eluding the memory

dedicated to TWO MOST BEAUTIFUL LADIES in my life who carved the course of my past and present