Hope, is for the weaker kind.

What will you give me
That i dont already have
In the crevices of daydreams
Stuck on the edges of my heart

What will you show me
That my mind hasnt already seen
No the salty havent washed them away
I only see them more frequently now

Where will you fit another challenge
That hasnt already given me a medal
Maybe some are black & blue
But i look at them everyday with pride

How will you bend me out of shape
There is no more room to dent
It’s the fire in my belly, you see
Makes my shape amber

When will you show me a new way
I’m everywhere you ever went
Im not lost, dont confuse yourself
I am already on the way to me

What is there but for me to rejoice
The planet that lives my soul
I am the god of my own journey
And i own every path that leads to it




Most of the exciting stories in my life begins with ‘when I was a kid’, and justifiably so. Nostalgia is a powerful emotion, add to it a bit of genuine innocent curiosity, and what you have is a heady mix of a drug called childhood. Though my kinder years were not silver-laced to say the least, I somehow found some beautiful corners, within me. Through sun-soaked afternoons in a small town, through volumes of books and inspiration from the boob tube. Yes, mine were the happy days. Because happiness came from within me, I didn’t need people or material things to make myself happy. Just some white paper, a 6B graphite pencil, and some comic books did the trick. Rest was taken care of by the fact that there was nothing to distract me, no TV at all times, no computers, no gadgets and definitely no social media. My social life started at school, paused in the afternoon, and started back at the playground around the evening. In between, there was just me hunched over the latest edition of Reader’s Digest. We all did something to keep us busy back then, some slept, some read and others scratched their heads trying to invent a water heater with nothing more than some chicken wire, a metal blade and a slab of wood. There was no alcohol, no weed or the Internet. My friends knew ‘How I was feeling’, not based on a status message shared to the world as a plea of help, but by who answered the landline when they called. Our blogs were mental notes; maybe that is why we still remember so much of it, even after this long. Or maybe, because we had enough mind-space to spare for things around us, we could hold the attention when someone was telling us long irrelevant details of the day. There was an opportunity to spend time with yourself, which we don’t anymore. Now we just have too many things to distract us from ourselves. Maybe it is our inherent desire to be in denial, or stay on the surface, but whatever the reasons be, we are rolling with it.

We don’t seem to peep over our walls anymore. We sit, and we let the walls around us grow higher, making us inapproachable. We have found solace in anonymity. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for personal space and individual choices. But that is not the reason. It’s not that we have grown more self-aware, or have asked more questions. We have simply turned down the blinds, and closed ourselves up.


The science of doing it NOW!


Who wins in this life? I mean, who really? Is the person who has never seen loss, of life, limb or love considered to be a success story in this material world? Or the person who has faced the most amount of atrocities life can put them through and still managed to keep their head above the water?

Why is it that we are always in two minds about everything? Should we blame it on the dual nature of our being, the divide between emotional and rational? Is that the only reason that we are always one step away from procrastination? And is procrastination that bad a thing? Unless it turns into an endless spiral going nowhere, leading you nowhere either. We should sit and think everything through, I agree, but there should be an in-build alarm that sets off, a deadline, and the guts to go through with whatever we think we should go through. Life cannot be spent thinking over things, life should be spent doing them. So why is that we don’t? Why is there no alarm, a deadline set, or a time period to our thinking? Why is that we never know when to step on the brakes, and when to floor the pedal? Why is it that we find such joy in procrastinating? Is it the fact that we think things will sort themselves out, or that we will be pushed in the general direction of where we should go by the turn of events as and when they unfold? And does the universe really work like that? And what about the universe? Why does it communicate only in cryptic messages? Why isn’t there a glowing red arrow to tell us where the next stop will be? Why does it not show us clear signs as to what we are supposed to do? Is it there to help us find our way, or to confuse the living shit out of us? And if life is made of the choices we make at any given point of time, then isn’t every mistake an eventuality, and a design of the universe? Because whatever the higher power is trying to do, if there is a higher power that is, is clearly not working out for a lot of people. Sheep don’t need the steering wheel; they need someone to guide them through the valley of darkness. And we are nothing if not sheep. We follow, we don’t lead, we imitate others because we feel their lives are more ‘successful’ than ours. And we live in herds so that we stay safe and render an identity from the collective voice. Then why is the universe trying to empower us by giving us choices, we are clearly inept at decoding them, leave alone understanding them. We are not ready to be empowered, to make our own decisions and walk our own path. We are too scared, of the path ahead; we are too sceptical of our own calls in life and we are too distracted to make sense of an abstract sign from the ever so powerful and knowledgeable energies of the universe. We should be held by our hands, and be lead to our destinations, we will do well just by surviving the journey, leave alone understanding it. Or, we should have clear epiphanies, as to how our life will be if we took a decision. About life, love, career, health, relationships, responsibilities etc. We should be given a manual as to how this life will work, and a choice of whether or not we want to be in it. Every child should get one at the age of 10, and asked to decide. Because, it is not the child’s fault that the parents chose to bring their seed into this world. The offspring should have a choice, a say as to whether it wants to really face the consequences of a choice that the parents made. It’s only fair, isn’t it? Otherwise, all that children are left with are the insecurities that they inherited from the parents and their choice of society, and then the repercussions of their calls in life based on those baggages.


This is what gives birth to procrastination, the inability to live a life that wasn’t our own choice to begin with, and dealing with the results of choices made based on fears, borrowed knowledge and social pressures. No wonder we cant make a bloody decision ever, and be sure about it till later, because we really don’t have much authority on own lives. We are all victims of rational and irrational fears that are handed over to us by our families, society and templated education. Like sheep we follow our parents, sit in classrooms, hang out with peers and then fit into our own respective social atmospheres. We don’t want freedom, we don’t need freedom, what we need is a fixed set of guidelines that tells us what to do, so that we don’t use our brains to think otherwise. Because, we are clearly not getting anywhere with it anyways.

Either that, or we ask ourselves, how long will I keep doing rounds, how long will I keep it on hold and how do I know that it’s not getting too late? Because like everything else, life and it’s events also come with an expiry date.

Filling in Colours

We all need to fill our lives with colours. That’s why we are here, that’s the very purpose of this unending journey between birth and death. That is the only reason we exist. That’s our duty towards our soul, as we try to reach from one end of this spectrum to the other.  
See, the universe is symbolic. You can find the biggest answers in the simplest of places. You’ll understand the architecture of the infinite space by looking into a telescope, as well as looking into a glass full of water. You have the opportunity to look at it from both sides and understand. Because you, the little speck of organic matter, have the privilege to be in the journey for now. The answer is just as much out there as is inside you.
Like the darkest depths of the sea have its own specks of light, as does the deepest expanse of the universe. The opposites mirror. Black and white. Darkness and luminosity. Colours are in between, during the journey.
So swim up or be in a freefall; the closer you get to the surface, the vibrant the spectrum becomes, and so does the canvas. But at both ends, there is nothing but black and white, the light & the lack of it, and the way it balances itself out.
And that is why we travel, especially when the colours around us are getting dull. We travel to let experiences fill our lives with newer shades. We travel to complete our journey, from one end of our rainbow, to the other. Or just to the nearby city. So we did too.
It was 5:00 in the evening when we decided to move our asses out of the house and into the car. The plan was to drive till Daman, stay for a night, and come back the next day, since servitude of our souls still lay faithfully in the hands of the those who sign our cheques. In short, employment blues. So will filled the tank up, and left. It was a clear night, with cool winds, and a straight stretch of tarmac that led us directly into the union territory within few hours. The drive wasn’t taxing, the distance wasn’t much, and we were quite simply beaming about the fact that we had indeed reached an individually unexplored city in the same time it takes to travel back home from work during the festival days.
Anyhow, we checked in, stepped out, had a rather conspicuous dinner, and somehow found the hotel room to be quite interesting in a functional sort of way. The slumber that night was peaceful, and the morning was late. We checked out, went to see a fort, got mildly fascinated with the architecture, spoke a bit about the historical significance and the faded spirit of adventure in mankind.
Sarcasm apart, it really was quite fascinating to realize that people came in boats from Portugal, parked their floaters on the shores, saw the land and thought – ‘We are going to build a fort here. No two. We shall build two forts, one of either side of the bayou. And we will build a 110ft tall church with our bare hands, and cover it with mysterious Christian symbolism, sculptures and frescos. We will also build an entire city inside it, and wait till the time the locals get powerful enough to overthrow is and take away all of our stuff.’  
All we did was gawk at it, walked about, got tired, urinated all over, found the sun to be too harsh, got hungry, clicked a few pics and then broke for lunch. All in a matter of few hours, so it was quite clear that we wouldn’t have cut the cheese if we were to live in that era. It’s just too much hard work. Hence a sense of guilty respect for the ones who did.
I think I digressed a bit. So getting back to the road trip. We had lunch and left Daman. By night we were back to her apartment. I don’t think the dog even noticed us gone. We settled in, spoke about how refreshing the trip was, and then prepared for office the next morning.
I know this sounds very cut and dry, unromantic even. Why didn’t I write a suppler piece, you would ask. Why didn’t I elongate the moments, why didn’t I find nuances and funny perspective to life in a small town? Why didn’t I include all the small adventures that were a part of it? Why didn’t I mention the moments of love and affection, of joy and passion, or humour and warmth? There surely must have been few.
Yes, there were. Lots of them. Very special moments. Some of them firsts even. But that’s the whole point of all this gibberish. To remind you and ourselves what travel does to you. It adds colours to our dulled our lives that dehydrate under the artificial illumination lamps. It makes us want more of life, and hope that there surely must be. There must be something more to life than just pent up anger, workspace agendas and nagging chores. And these little flakes keep your mind unjulating, keeps you feeling alive, makes you get up in the morning the next day with some fluid hope running through your veins. And also, it keeps the human connections exciting, especially if you are the kind who has a tendency to get polarized over time, like we do.
Here are some of the images we clicked. Hope you like them, we did. 


Flutter dear mind
Flutter and fly
Like effervescence
From the rapidly narrowing streamMutter
Mutter all you want
Mutter insanity
In my ears, on my face
From a slow fading dream

Walk about
Walk near as much u can
Find the highest u can fall
From what depths your fears scream

Exhale louder
Exhale the poison fruit
Sticky roads stick ur wings
From here to gather steam

Burn out
Burn them demons out
Let those ashes become your coat
From one to the other extreme.


Bharat Rapes India

Dear Bharat,

I come to you in humility, knowing that I come from you. I come to you in awe of all the beautiful places you hold and the rich diverse culture you once helped achieve. But mostly, I come to you with a request. PLEASE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

I know you have your claim on me, but please stop suffocating me, stop trying to dress me up like you, stop telling me who I should hang out with, and what time I should be back home. I know that you think you know better, but please listen to my voice of reason and know that your tools don’t fit into our grooves anymore.

We are like those kids who came out of smaller towns and decided we won’t be what we left behind. We decided to be reach out to the world, something you never could, because you were too underexposed to know how the microphone works. But we do. We don’t just farm, we organic farm. We have twenty different kinds of coffee flavours to go with our hash brownies. We have crowded passports and glowing screens. Glowing screens that connect us to the world, and the world to us. Because we are equally important now, unlike your times when we were the beggars at the door of the World Bank. We don’t just use computers, we make them. We don’t just work in foreign companies anymore, we buy them. We have friends in other genders, and we have sex, lots of it, before, during and after; hetero, homo and bi. We are not asking you to do what we are doing, stop asking us to do what you think we should. We really don’t give a shit. So when you stand up and tell us that it was our fault you raped us, or that we should not look, live and breathe global, you are not convincing us to step back, you are aggravating us to pace faster, in a direction away from you. And BTW, you are behaving like that old illiterate neighbour who even you hated when you were young.

Young, it seems you have forgotten how it is like to be young. Because being young means learning, changing with the times, trying on new things to see what fits better. Youth is about dreaming, about being attractive and be attracted. It’s about breaking away and moving forward; going out, not sitting in. It’s about possibilities and equal opportunities. It is about looking at others and taking in what feels right. It is about being free and understand everyone’s need to be so. It is about realizing how important it is to be respectful of personal space, and to have a voice.

And lastly, you will have to stop forcing yourself on us. Mentally and physically. You will have to stop telling us what to wear, you will have to keep your hands away from us, you will have to stop ruining our parties, you will have to stop peeping in whenever you want, you will have to stop shoving the culture dick down our throats, and lastly, you will have to listen when we say NO. Especially when our girls say NO. They mean it, and we mean it. But it seems you have completely forgotten how to be a gentleman. Because if girls are afraid of you, every woman around you feels threatened, then you are nothing more than a social embarrassment.

See, we are used to girls, they are in our schools, colleges, workplaces, malls; literally everywhere that we are. And they are there to be wooed, not scared away; they are to be spoken to, not screamed at; to be admired, not annihilated, they are to be shared voices with, not gag. I don’t know how justify what you are doing. I don’t know why is it that you can’t keep your genitals, your tongue and your eyeballs to yourself every time you see a female, no matter what the age. And I really don’t know why you are opening your mouth at the time when you should use your brain, and SHUT THE FUCK UP. Because every time you let that trap of yours open, you are falling down a bit more in our eyes. So whether you say it was chowmein, or western culture, or say it was our fault that we got raped, or that the clothes our girls wear lead you on; what you are saying to us is that you really are not willing to change, and that our ties are at an end. Trust me, we have no issues walking away, NONE.WHAT.SO.EVER.

I know you are scared that you will be deemed redundant in this world sooner than you expected. That is why you are holding on to whatever shred of past is left with you, something you think validates your existence, like an addict to the drug. I also know that you really don’t get us at all, so stop pretending that know the solution; you cant help the cause till the time you realize that the problem is YOU. Mostly, know one thing, you are old and we are young, we WILL inherit you, and when we do, we will make sure we correct your mistakes. So if you still want to be part of our system, stop acting like a sickness. And for god’s sake, stop raping us of our freedom.