Beautiful White Canvas

white canvas
The black wriggly words
Created out of mayhem
Upon this beautiful white canvas
In display the million old questions
Scatted in red, the bloody history
Somewhere in between
Asleep, the old insanity
Some characters, the residents
In earthen colours
And some travel to the distant corner,
To see the old rainbow mountains
And some in quest for the change
Through the red and green
And comes the ambiguity to echo
You have mastered the art perfect!



No Prescription Available

Walked I have for miles,
In this state,
Drenched in pain and cold
As I stepped inside
The cold building
Daunting and almost ghostly

Sits there
The old doctor,
From a distant land
Of Tagore & Ojha
With empty stare
No soul present,
Only the TV set,

Only the old scar
The injury that walked,
Through the woods,
Across the ocean,
In that blistering cold,
Cannot prescribe you
Any medicine or remedy
You will have to carry it
As you carry
Your conscience and soul

Not even a tablet
I shall prescribe you
Let’s have a conversation
You belong to a strange land
Not here you belong,
And intrepid soul you are,
That’s all I know of you
Walk back across that path
Where you came from
The challenges you will have
Upon this journey, in abundance
You have chosen for yourself

Carry this pain and remember me
I was your doctor for few seconds
And in between the centuries
Of where we came from
Not here you belong,
In the distant future, remains
The old promise you made
When you were young
Return to that land
But what of the medicine
I enquired, in my last attempt
Cannot prescribe you
Any medicine or remedy
You must leave,
Belong here you don’t….


Resident Beneath Your Skin

In that pain you have lived,
The years of yearning
Resident beneath your skin,
As it circulates
The numbness
Knows no bounds
Only the words
That are the blood
Stand there in the distance,
The old mirror,
See I am still the same,
But changed has occurred
Within you,
As the emaciation begins.


The Ordinary Soul

I did not expect
To see you do this,
“Why, In God’s name”
You changed
Not an ordinary soul,
You were
Looked up to you
From the days of the olden past

Now you with the sinners
The corrupt and the strong
You push it out,
The view of the foul
What became of you?
Your conscience and stance

As I listened in my state
Of being numb and tired
Whispered I to my soul
Murmured I to m y heart
Nothing has changed,
Nothing has remained
You have forsaken me,
The saints of the olden past,
I have seen it from both end
Now you come to tell me

I am still the same,
The ordinary soul,
All intact,
The conscience & my stance
You all played your games,
For good and for worse
Still the same promise
That unfolds itself
In the memory of my past
In the words of my tomorrow



Reached out of window
Her frail hands
The beautiful colours
Of the earthly years and its composition

I shall see you again,
As the train whistled her away
To the journey towards the ocean
Where she can paint and read

Away from the troubles of her time
Spent all her youth in protection
Of the ones she cared for and loved

Now all gone,
to their own corners
So the journey begins
to rediscover her again.


The Sufi Music


Through the night,
she sang her heart out
the old Sufi music
the beat to its rhythms
the chaos
that followed later
the chords of life
frozen, only the music
the echoes of rebellion
the songs of submission.


Imprisoned Forever



I will find you
captured in my dreams
imprisoned forever
you will never grow old

you will never leave me,
imprisoned forever
in your heart
the old tales of Egosauras

The house we built
in our dreams,
By that mysterious lake

the train journey
to the rainbow mountains
will remain
in your heart
to the end of time.


H’s Notebook

the notebook image








She says its my notebook
I will travel
around the world
fill it up with sketches
of laughter and love
I will roam
like the birds of heaven
in there,
descriptions of my journey
you will find all in its clamour
She says its my notebook
I will have stories
of lightining and thunder
meanderings of my youth and its whispers
the life I have
is a notebook
scatttered across its pages
the old scribllings of existence
the beating heart and its clock
the impressions of my childhood
tales of my mischeifs and blunders
You will understand one day
too close the picture you held
as the sun wrapped up
betweeen you and the one
the faces too bright,
as the shadows became the shimmer
the pages you carried and its secrets
only the river i saw
as the moon beamed its famous smile.


The old thoughts return
as the spring chases its winter
Imbued in its opium,
the patterns begin to decipher
the only language
in its elation,
the heart understands
many years have gone past,
in trails of whispers and murmurs
the change has found its fortress.


Rise Like a Storm from Within









An old dervish
as he walked
in a land
with famine and hunger
there is still time to rise
before the sand display its verdict
the rulers are still free
to roam, catch them
rise for your rights
rise against these corrupt
As the dust sweeps across your face
If it is still within you
the old seeds
of self respect and change
Rise like the storm from within.