Monday, 3 October 2016

I feel, 
to have a feeling,
Just now in this very moment
I have already felt everything
that I am ever going to feel
in my ending days.

Thursday, 29 September 2016

Dead Strangers

It rained that day! I don't recollect the exact thought came to my mind while I was lying on a random bed in a random flat in Sukseria building. All I can remember is that it rained that day!! It's weird to remember a day just because of the usual rain and no such great memory attached to it. But the picture of a dark creamy-rusty wall and rectangular shape of the drizzling rain in the door frame of that wall. The building looked pretty much bored like her age. But lying there wasn't boring. After all, I am lying with myself after I dunno but many months. I could see a peeling that was about to fall on my face anytime. 

Friday, 22 July 2016

I know a man who is out there. Who was always there since the beginning. He looks like me, dresses like me, talks like me, even he thinks like me, but he who pours his prayers into oblivion, sitting on a mountain. A mountain made up of the ashes of TIME. Ashes of this very minute and of all those things which have lost their fraction of existence during this very minute. He is always writing all that. Maybe a never ending poem or a never ending prayer? He is randomly touching all the empty names of his reality one by one.
          But I wish he should die & lose his immortality just like that. So, his death would become the entire essence of his poetry!

Monday, 7 September 2015

Nicolai: See, my girl sent me letters. She says that she still loves me. I told her in my last letter that I will fight these Nazis. I will kill as many as I can. I will make my mother Russia proud. Then I will return to her with medals on my chests.
Soldier: Haha.
Nicolai: What’s so funny brother?
Soldier: How naïve!
Nicolai: Naïve! I have a gun in my hand. Still, I look naïve? It's not my gun. Stalin gave me this. Some unknown comrade in Tula may have made it avenge his young boy who might have died in Ukraine fighting Nazis. We eat the food on the war front; the food is grown on our farms where our comrades fell in war. Where our children wept. We are fighting for the glory of our revolution and the glory of our great supreme leader Stalin!!
        We are fighting for the equality and justice for our future generations. For eternal victory and peace for proletariats.
Soldier: Eternal victory? I don’t know anything about this. All I know that I was a worker in a metal factory in Moscow. They said he looks fine. He will survive for a month more, and I am here with Stalin’s gun.
       It's they or us. Maybe they will die, and you and I live. Maybe they and I live, and you die. Maybe we all die.Finally, all that Stalin will do is, he will shake hands. Either with shame or madness with his eternal victory. We will go back to those places where we came from. Your girl won’t be the same, and I might not survive working in the factory for another month.
Nicolai: Maybe. But It's not just about us. It's about our motherland.
Soldier: Do you think it all survive?
All you ever knew,
You memories
Your Silent Gods
Heaven -Hell
Loved ones
Strangers & their kisses
Events and memories of all this
Planned moments
Unsaid words
Unknown, unfinished feelings
Your equality and justice
Bourgeoisie & Proletariats
Marx, Lenin, Stalin
The sense of rage
Dead Nazis
The blood of them on your dying feet
All will disappear
Just one sudden bullet inside you
Just like the wind blows inside your body mercilessly.
And it won’t matter
to matter anything, anymore.
You will be you for a brief moment
With Ecstasy,
While gasping for last breath with a bullet in your neck.
You will breathe just to breathe and nothing for your glory!!
Nicolai: Oh! What could be more horrible than this emptiness, at all?
Soldier: Why, Life itself!!

Monday, 3 August 2015

Dreams on rent

My city mocks me
With the senseless ness
Of ideas
Through which I am gonna flow through. The infinite currents,
People, things, their life , my life...
The manner of collision of thousand things into one
And one collision to scatter into thousands.

I am the guy
I jump over the wet pond
To call myself the Sinbad
I am the guy who
Catch the 9.24 daily.

I am a chaiwallah
Who flows in the morning through the cities clogged arteries
A back office ITwallah
Coding my rented dream

Thursday, 2 July 2015

A Murder Ballad

Come hear thee sects of sane
cut out my tongue
Though there is nothing to say.

Wednesday, 1 July 2015


we laugh
when machines tell us to laugh
we become sad
when machines say so..

we move our legs & go somewhere
we are not sure or
may be we'r not allowed to be sure.
And our rationality altogether
may have been stored somewhere
in some random server
in a secret basement.

we choose
we reject
we hate
we love
when machines order so...

We are even told that,
our soul...
our great amorphous soul
with an unending eternal kindness
is a mere database with coding.

we are
altar egos of us
made up of cogs and wheels.
we are
decaying paradoxes.
we are
products of our products.