The real you

It is never a start or an end

but is present 

like air, or the earth,

so whole and invisible,

so much, yet so little

of what we 

perceive as real.

It never really is an intention

nor a thought,

or even a wish 

in the slightest.

But creeps up on you

while you are distracted

pursuing an alternate truth.

Harsh, maybe, but is also

a mirror,

of what cannot be sought

or seen,

for where indeed 

do you draw

a line, between yourself

and the enemy?

Dragon heart

My life began as

I reached him.

The day, I hear, 

wraps around him.

The night, is shy

and yet in silence

awaits

for he shall wake

to fly without wings,

to burn without fire

to dive without fear

to perhaps fall

and break,

and yet stand tall

and brave.

My quill waits in hunger

for I am merely a witness

to a phenomenon

so strong and powerful

that it consumes me

thoroughly - 

as I evolve

slowly, but surely,

a bit more like him
a little less like me.

Growing up

Fish and bones

and black tar roads,

familiar faces and 

memories set in stones.

A distinct fragrance,

of palm trees tall,

swings and playground

 - my world was small.

Sea and sand,

they beckoned me - 

a wide-eyed speck

in a sky rise city.

Loss and religion,

riots and blasts,

the boy next door

 - etched the adolescent heart.

The search for a hero

brought me close to her

a peaceful home

to the heavens above.

Writer, dancer, 

actor, doctor - 

She set me free

 - to make my future.

And there I stood

a heart and a sole,

to begin my quest

for a new home.

To make friends

and write stories new,

to travel places

 - in search of you.

P.S. I have grown up (in fact still growing up) in many different places. And I have always wondered if each of these places have contributed in tweaking my personality in its own way. Would I be a different person if the order of these places in my life changed? Would I be different if instead of Mumbai, I had landed in Chennai? If instead of UK, I had chosen to go to the US? What would I be doing today? Would I be writing this article at all? Would I still be in search of a home? Would I still meet you?

The quest

Some lost, some found

some scattered, some bound

to the whole,
to the part,

to the finish, 

to my senselessly beating heart.

A shooting star, fading 

into the darkness, into space

out of sight,
still on my mind,

a tiny void, and

a fleeting wish.

Unspoken emotions,

spill fluidly
through these cracks,

revealing vapours of

tiny heartaches

and a few unknown facts.

Dividing me today,

into several pieces

that fight to come close,

fight to stay far,

and fight everyday,

unsure of what they are.

A strange attraction

then comes to play,

to a familiar face,

a forgotten name,

a lingering memory,

of a distant place.

Dreams and ambitions,

a powerful rhythm,

a wistful reminder,

of a painful addiction - 

- slice through me 

this invisible weapon.

Enemy and friend,

the illusion of freedom,

and the endless longing

for a home, for a soul - 

- an incomplete saga

of a happiness ever after.

           - Few pages from the story of my pointless quest.

All roads lead to...

The fights we fight

the battles we lose

the losses we cut

the cuts and wounds.

That heal and form

that reform and age

and emerge again

a wiser adage.

A truer moment

an era, a day

the lesser truth, all

fade slowly away -

- but we just rush,

to the finishing line.

Like lost wisdom,

we emerge again

regain our form, and

lay open to pain.

We prepare to cut,

prepare to bruise,

and battle to fight

and fight to lose … 

… another moment

far away,

a love, a life,

another yesterday.

And we just rush,

(but why must we rush?)

to the finishing line.

The Bride

She lay there, so ornate

so pristine, 

so fragile

as would a 

calm night

before a storm,

or a lover 

in the glow

of a candle light.

Like the aching 

acceptance of

a prisoner's fate,

like  a precision 

clockwork

never running late.

Like the infinite

reflections of a 

ray of light,

like remorse 

seeping into 

a perfect after-life

She lay there, so still

so beautiful

that night,

as we bid farewell

to the bride.

Silhouette, no more

Smell of gunshots

still pungent

in the air.

Empty pockets

collect scars

and despair.

A distant fire

flickers slowly

and dies,

leaving behind 

a carcass

of the night.

To whom 

we are slaves, 

and you 

the authority

Our lives are but 

a piece of 

your charity.

But when it's time

to reverse

the flow,

we will conquer

the fear, and our

bronze dreams 

will soar… 

We will reclaim

our existence,

our past

and our fate,

and bask in the sun, 

no more 

a silhouette.

Will there be love for you

in our hearts then,

The day we wear 

the same colour again?

Tree of Eden

My roots dig deep

still in search of

an answer.

My branches reach out

to part the wisdom - 

(mere seeds of change)

I hide the truth

in my shadows,

but for a few

who care.

While my kin,

walk carelessly

over my tears … 

… which fall to earth

soft and velvet -

(flowers of 

vibrant colours)

Bringing back

memories of

the lovers … 

… and of a time, 

when a tree, 

fell in love with a butterfly.

(And bore a fruit

that would 

alter the course

of human life.)