CPR

Life... will it return?
Or be still after a few forced desperate pumps of revival?
Nostalgia... a sweet emotion?
Or a few blurred flashes of memories, nervous and incomplete?
Time... made wiser?
Or just another depreciating commodity that has reduced its limited offer?
Love... lost?
Or was it never found in the first place?
Questions... awaiting answers?
Or just rhetorics to fill the silence?

who knows...

Besabri

Tumko yeh naa ehsaas tha,
Humko bhi kahan khabar hui
Tum toh chup rahe magar,
Humse hi naa sabar hui...
Humse hi naa sabar hui...

Khamoshi ke sannaton mein
Ab toh bas basar hui
Kehna toh kuch chahaa magar,
Shabdon se kahan guzar hui...
Humse hi naa sabar hui...

ennui

Words need to be uttered...
To break this deafening silence.
Whether YOU speak them or I,
Something, anything, other than a sigh.

Send it crashing, clapping, crackling,
In this bottomless pit of nothing...
Let them appease, atone, anew
This overcast feeling of ennui.

Flashback...

I want to write…
but the words don’t flow.

I want to cry…
but even the largest of waves swell at the banks and recede.

I want to smile…
but the eyes sulk and defy the attempt of the lips.

I want to indulge in conversation…
but my mind lingers in your thoughts,
caressing each word, each phrase;
rewind…
play.

rewind…
play…

I pause, drag my thoughts past time to the present,
playing catch-up.

Now tired…I give up the catch-up game.
The thoughts having played a thousand times, are now dormant.
I sit lonely, lost in nothingness…staring at nothingness.
A lizard’s ticking starts me, destroying the oblivion.
I prepare for another dry day in office.

Being Indian...

Being Indian is about taking pride in our Nation.
Every time the tricolor hoists, it’s about beaming with pride,
Bursting with joy, a sense of glory and gratitude for who we are and what we have...
The freedom of thought, expressions and actions...
The freedom to dream; and the freedom to do what it takes, to realize that dream.

Being Indian is about being proud of our culture,
Cherishing our rich heritage, respecting our traditions, rituals and beliefs.
But being Indian is also about being receptive and open to change,
Being innovative, passionate, hard working and progressive...

Being Indian is about celebrating the glory of the past,
Winning over the present and creating a promising future.

Proud to be an Indian!

just rambling...

You, are born from some place deep within me...
my brain, my heart, my soul,
or some place else...
hidden between the square expressions and the gooey, mushy mass of feelings
reverberating between various extremes.

You are not my flesh, not my blood,
and yet you are more personal, more intimate,
more a part of me than anything ever was...
or will be.

You are in my thoughts, my ideas,
so deeply entwined with them, that I know not
who came from who...
as unseperable you lay, together defining who I am.

You are not much to look at...
sometimes frail, crawly and thin, almost inexistent...
sometimes loud, boisterous, dominant...
You could be a voice, a scrawl, a thought, a blank...
You could be anything... nothing...
untill I form you, give you birth...

And then you live, forever as a part of me.
And you will live long after I am gone
reminding those I love that
I was... I truly have been.

You, are my WORDS!

I am here...

I am here... right here,
Between the words and blankness,
Between the emotions and stupor,
Between the will and action,
Between the need to be and being,
I was... Iam...
Here... right here.