An ode to love that’ll never be

An ode to love that’ll never be

.                                                         Separation. Estrangement. Chasms.
Lucky, they coasme after a union.

Oblivion. Limbo. Obscurity.
Once, they once held motion and remembrance.

Chastity. Continence. Rectitude.
How they hem a promise of promise?

What words for: a love that’ll never be.

Eternity of lingering desires?
Absoulute-ness of despondency?
Countless twiddling nights?
Perfection of fissures in a dolorous heart?

Then why are springs more cherished then summers?
Twilights more loved than nights?
They come and go.
Don’t stay.
Don’t wait.
Dont’t quench the soul.
Immortal, is the thirst for their hold.
Like the love that’ll never be.
Is the love un-quenched forever to be.


Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher
After this while, she stopped having dreams of her own.

She wanted to be that instrument

The Harp

The flute

The reed

What better than to be the dream catcher?

And none of the dream belong to thee?

What do you want they would ask?

What desires? What hopes? What paths to trod?

Make me Thy instrument of Love. 

Plant me where the dreams grow.

That little boy at the end of street.

He desires those azure slippers.

His feet are cold. So is his soul. 

Perfume of the scented candles he sells forsakes his soul all these days.

There these lies, in middle of this Persian bazar, below the jaded mannequinn wearning things of past

those shiny azure slippers that warm his heart

Make me the slippers for the cold boy.

Make me little warmth for those little feet, can you?

Every evening, at dusk and dawn.

When seekers weep and seers see. 

She waits.Longs. Sleeps then wakes. And wait a little more.

He said, he will see her when the high tide rises again.

She watches the moon. Grow and shrink.

At start, on brink. 

Endless days without sleep and pain. 

Just numb-ness. Haunting. Daunting. 

Make me those high tides for her.

Make me the bliss of a meeting after longing, can you?

The evening star that follows her car.

Her only companion and that too far.

Can someone be so lonely, to befreind a star.

Who cares, she says she needs company.

Ain’t I lucky, I can see my listner, her excuse.

But her excuse fails on cloudy days?

Make me the brightest evening star on a cloudy day.

Make me her only reason for being grateful, can you?

Homes,lifes and families aren’t the only things lost in wars.

For him, it was his soft-toy puppy.

The smiling puppy with his chewing bone, a little torn at side.

The puppy turned dirt black in ever rising smokes.

In the war, it was his hope.

The puppy smiled even in war, so happy with its chewing bone. 

And now, war claimed it too.

Make me the dirt black, a little torn at side, bone chewing puppy. 

Make me his hope, can you?

He is frail, he is old, his sons are away.

Fed them and bred them and taught them and walked them.

Now doorbells are nightmairs, its difficult to walk that far.

Why we live for our kids, but they need to work, i am just an old man, seems like his excuses won’t last.

Make me the son he never had, with only job to take his care. 

To love him and open the door when the bell rings.

Make me his caretaker, can you?

Make me a happy dream which puts her to sleep.

Make me the soothing touch of grass on his bare feet.

Make a refreshing flower near his hostipal bed.

Make me the beatiful consoling words which were never said. 

Make me colorful kites, paper boat, a needed currency note.

Or his new sneakers, or her over-coat.

Make me a smile which lasts for a while.

Make me lingering peace, a feeling of ease.

Make me love, make me love, love in any form, without form. 

Make me hope or dream or more love, flowing love now on.

Make me the dream catcher, who caught everyone’s dreams.

‘Coz she had none, for her own, to own or to wean.

So, she became for everyone, she became everyone, can that be?

Let me catch dreams and live them to be love incarnate. 

Because only You can Dear Lord ☺

Urge to unburden: Both pleasant and un-pleasant

The urge to unburden, unlearn, de-condition, de-programme is as natural as breathing to a human. What makes it more intense is the current consciousness of a person. A sensitive heart, an aware soul, a creative mind, an empathetic being, these are varieties of same shade of a people whose intensely try to ‘let go’ of the conditioning aka burden which may be societal, mental, psychological or even physical. It is usually exponentially high in comparison to those who are asleep. Asleep in the sense, who can gorge down popcorns, buy brands every weekend, watch a movie or two and spend (un-)quality time on social media and be happy with life irrespective of how monotonous/unchallenging/inefficient it becomes. 

The desire to unburden is inherent. The desire to unburden was in Budha who was too full being a prince. The desire to unburden is in every artist who unburdens his/her soul in his/her next book, song, that literary best-selling. 

The desire to unburden is even more inherent in case of pleasant experiences but only for those who can smell the stale. The stale success story, the stale successful relationship losing chemistry, the stale medals and even stale money. 

Heart and mind demands new. New demands space where the new might fit in. Space comes from un-burdening, un-learning, de-tours 🙂

And hence the pleasure, in fact, unceasing pleasure, of the roads less taken, the long lost worlds where nobody knows your name. You can be anybody or everybody to anybody or nobody. The achievement of being a nobody, no burden, being nothing, just space for things to exist as they are. No likes no dis-likes. The perfect un-burdening is being nobody, un-opiniated, acceptance of is. Beingness. Is-ness. Aren’t we all striving for that. Some know it. Some like you have started questioning it 😉

Letter to a beloved who is away

Running high on emotions i might be, yet i choose to announce: I like it. The book you sent me mail. And, i like Karla from the book. And i like Lin’s sadness, his love for freedom. People are obligated to relate with the characters of the book or movie or even paintings and i assume that, that this..this resonance of relating to the characters or  the entire art itself is the ultimate hope or ultimate victory of the artists(/authors/painters/creators) make people feel or realize that deep down we are one..we always were. We have our parts in each other..and we are nothing but parts of other people..stories we live are hardly alone..the world makes us who we are in our waking states. We just react and respond to stimuli and the reaction and respodance in turn depends on how the world has treated us in past and how we got motivated or shaped or conditioned by it. Then, how urgent and how important it becomes to know: what we are without this world that makes us..who we are internally..unconditioned.. who we were before we made ourselves a part in the play and started playing a role, post, stupidly creating a self image of who we are are what should our ideal reaction of self defined/assumed personality be. In that sense, our living waking lives, aren’t they a lie? 

So, i was saying i like Lin. And i like the listner in him. He is like you that ways. He listens, observes and he keeps his secrets, his sadness, his feelings, to himself..(till page 64 i guess..i dont know what happens in story further)

And again i felt while reading, an overwhelming desire to thank you enough, for being. One lifetime won’t be enough to thank you for being there listening and understanding and taking care of me when i could not gather courage enough to pull myself up especially for the time and times when people living inches close are oblivious of the state and you.. you work your magic from far beyond. You took me beyond space that ways. :)) I give that one to you. 
Time. I have not been beyond the illusion of time..conceptually or in terms of feeling. I woud like to consume that Truth..time being an day. 
I feel a little awkward and shy to say this, but I will say it anyways, nothing to lose since start, if we come close..close enough feel each other with our eyes closed..with our fingers tracing our contours of our faces..then, i would like you to write to me, a poem of your perception. I have seen and felt myself through my eyes and my senses a lot. I can see beauty or no beauty at will. I can stare long enough in my eyes to be teleported and know they hold much more than their physical aspect. I want to see me as not by my perception..but as a third you and me looking together at me and seeing whats there..that what do you sense or percieve..of this person with a frown or a swollen lip or lost gaze or unruly hair and all. 
I waste words enough, darling. It makes me guilty of using them more than i make a point, which can be made without using a single word. Your knowing without my saying, makes them a waste. Or so it seems.




Han tum hi to ho,
subah ki thandi chadar ho tum
dopahar me jaali se chann ke aati maheen dhoop
barsaton me sham ke asmaa ki surkhi
sardi ki raton ka ghhana kohra, har taraf phaila hua,
mazboot, maujood.

garmi ka paseena bhi ho.kameez se lipat-ta.chichipata
bina bataye aai hui hasi bhi ho. bin bulaaye mehman
jaise hoton mein pasar ke baithi
khamakha ki musibat ho tum. na duur ho ki ehsas na ho.
na paas ho ki chhu lun.

najasat tabiyat ho tum, dum bhi khul ke na lene do.
beghairat umeed bhi ho, na munasib, na jaiz.

par khushnuma-paigam bhi ho, tumhe jane dun bhi toh
jaise bhi ho, mere wajood bhi to ho.

​I look at you like a question looks at an answer, out of need and repulsion..all at once

​I look at you like a question looks at an answer, out of need and repulsion..all at once

i long for you as a kid does for mother’s touch on a sick day…
i wait for you like a pregnant women waits to see her child in the last moments of her labour day..
i crave for you like a bird does for the freedom in an undersized cage..
my need for you is a child’s first breath..lungs inflating for the first time.. the breath of life
you are breeze of air who followed the drizzle after scroching hot day..
a warm blanket near a fireplace after the day of snow and hail
i want you by my side..hold me close your breath on my face.. 

Surrender. Be nothing. Just Be. Be.

Choice(s)- limit. Favourite(s)- limit. This moment, the very moment right now- is the truth. Limit-less. 
Nothing should be.

Nothing ought be. 

Yes, happiness is a conscious choice.

And so is suffering, when suffering. 

Then, only not to choose equals being completely free.  
Don’t identify too much with the role. Do play well, but, dont take it seriously.  As it is all a ‘jagat tamasha'(staged play). Nothing more. In larger context of this none of these puny goals matter . Still, do well as they discipline your soul for what really matters. 
Ask yourself what matters.. 

Your they matter?

Do you remember your high school marks everyday? Will the best performance trophy or worst performance rate-card matter in next 5 years? 
We keep running and running because we don’t have many movies to watch, so many songs to be heard, tv series are waiting, so many poems are to be written, so many books to be read..but why?
The moment we recognize we have talent, the world comes up with their idea : Sell it. Display it. Expose it. 

Good singer, upload video on youtube, get clicks.

Good at sketching, upload more photos at instagram. 

But why?

Why do we want to expose ourselves do much?

Why do we need to get validation?

Why do we need to get money out of hobbies?
Maybe, because it will make us happy. The validation makes us happy..more makes us feel worth being loved. Yet, it creates the illusion than we ought to be doing something for being happy. This happiness would come and go.  If you want to be happy then why not be happy right now. Choose happiness. 

But then there is a problem, if I choose happiness right now, then what do I do, when I don’t feel happy, when I definitely know I am in pain, I am suffering and when despite knowing that is all an illusion created by mind, I can’t stop identifying with pain?
Well then, then don’t question and marinate in the suffering. Accept it. Accept it as it is your own. Your due. From some life-birth or this lifebirth itself if you don’t want to believe in re-incarnation. Accept it without reasoning. Accept it without finding why.
But what do I do when it becomes overwhelming? Unbearable?
Then, you must give up!!

Give up to the heaven . Surrender. Don’t hold back any of it. Surrender, your human-ness, your meakness, your present conscious self, give up everything you feel is yours, including suffering . Don’t even question whom you are surrendering there a God or heaven or universe or angels.  Surrender to a belief that everything will be taken care off. Everything simply is. No more no less. All you can actually do is accept it or live in surrender or be absolutely aware of it. And guess what, they are all the same. 

And time? What about time?

Well, time is just a man made illusion who has got better of its master right now and is on verge of engulfing it. 
Wish you a happy time being nothing! 🙂

What you resist, persists

Dear Beloveds,
Take this beautiful time to finally face and embrace the dark once and for all.  Let the light of LOVE shine on it and dissolve it.  You are awakened NOW.  You are LOVE NOW.  There is no other way it could be.  Anything else is merely a dream!  The more you resist the Dark Night or the “stuck” place you are in, the more you keep repeating the lessons you need to learn.  Accept and embrace where you are NOW.  Embrace this pain and suffering. Let my resistance take me more towards acceptance and surrender.

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.


Letter to Beloved


It’s a privilege to love you. I can be me in front of you. The only place, home, uni-verse I know of that sorts where I can just Be.

And I would secretly wish to be that for you too..

you don’t let people really in..I thought it was me..but alas you have to be an edge over in everything I am..extra shiny mirror..more detached..more most fragile entity I know. I thought I was the thing I could most easily break without intentions, yet, you get to be more fragile in my world, of all the dearest beings I know, I would never want to mistakingly too, ever break you, neither exploit you or consume you and how I wish I could love less as a human..less as a beggar..more like worship..more like God..

Keep me a little longer. Let me drown and flow a little longer in this Love for you.