The rainbow melted
before my eyes
and trickled down the sky
in drops of heaven
as I stood with a
cup in my hand
watching it
fill to the brim
one colour at a time.
I take a sip, and
my insides vaporize
leaving behind
wisps of smoke
that fight
to escape
like daylight,
into the night
where it settles
on the unborn flowers
that bloom into life.


Fire Exits and the Molten Ice Cream – Part 1


Fire exits, for most, is that part of the  office that just exists, like a locked maintenance closet on the thirteenth floor of the building. It just exists, and that’s it. No one has the time to give it a second thought. I mean, who would, right? What the hell were elevators invented for if people had to take the stairs? Moreover, Office fires? They just happen on Television, don’t they?

But then, this story isn’t about one of those people. It’s about a young man who was practically in love with Fire Exits. He knew everything that was to know about them. He had stacks of research lying around his single bedroom apartment in the heart of the city. He knew the exact dimensions of the stairs, what materials were used for the doors, what kind of paint was used – every little detail; that you could possibly think of and more. It was his obsession.  It was popular opinion that he was simply odd, and was avoided by everyone, except for his managers maybe.

Pratik was twenty-six , a Software engineer living out of Bangalore and working for a respectable IT Company. He had jumped four companies in the last three years. The reason – the fire exits just didn’t feel right. But something had clicked with the present company and he had managed to stick around for almost eight months. This was the longest he had stayed with any company. Maybe it had to something with the trail of ice-cream he had discovered one Sunday afternoon in the fire exit on the second floor. What was he doing at work on a Sunday, you may ask? Well, he liked it there. The peace, the absence of people giving him odd looks, it suited him. He was free to do what he looked best – studying the fire exits. He was almost on the verge of jumping ship yet again, because he, after his numerous Sunday escapades, had found nothing interesting about the fire exits.

But that one day had changed everything. The trail of molten ice-cream on the second-floor landing. This was odd because the office canteen stays closed on Sundays and so do the shops in the vicinity of the office building. And as for the people, he always made sure it was just him and maybe a few security guards who usually stay outside and never bother him. And it was no different that day. But what was  peculiar was that the trail of ice-cream wasn’t there when he had entered and what was even more weird was that, it had been happening ever since.

The Ghost – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 23

And then the words

stopped flowing

As the conscious mind

took over the sub-conscious,

Leaving behind

an empty casket

buried in the graveyard

just beyond the wall

that separates

sanity from insanity,

humility from vanity, and

dreams from reality.

In the middle of it all

the headstone stands alone

Singing an elegy

written by a ghost

who vanished in the fog

Leaving behind

bits and pieces of his soul

that no one in this life

will find.

Beginning Of The End – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day – 20

What do you do?

When all you can do

Is wait;

Anxious and restless

As time plays

its game

Like a serial killer

Before it slays

its victims

In slow motion

You pray

for the end to

Embrace you


It’ll liberate you

And take you

To a place where

There is no space

For the minutes

To fill in the days

As the last drops of blood

flows out of your veins

And you’re left with

What you had craved for

In the first place –

A beginning

to your end.

Why I am Scared Of Nice People

The Diary Of a Zombie

They said, If you tried, you could be a really nice guy. You know what? I would rather have gonorrhea and die.

You may think it is substance abuse, that maybe this guy smoked some pot on his way here. That maybe there is something wrong with his head, or maybe a broken heart has left him cold and dead inside like a zombie. For a moment; you might have even questioned yourself “Did I hear that correctly?” Don’t worry. You are fine. As a species, self-doubt comes to us very naturally. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, and as for me, I just wanted to come clean.

NICE PEOPLE SCARE THE SHIT OUT ME! There you go. I said it, AGAIN, for those with floppy disks in the age of flash drives inside their heads.

Nice people, give me, the hibbie-jibbis.

I could never stand their sight and every…

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Daughter – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 18

She was born
with an illusion of choice
gifted to her
by generations
of traditions
poisoned by time,
and preserved by
the ignorant minds
who claimed to have
her best interest at heart

Locked up in the tower
of her age she was
the Rapunzel,
whose youth was an investment
that would yield,
a treasure so precious
that it would corrupt
the minds of those
who had sworn
to defend her,
and keep her freedom safe

The purpose of her life
was dictated by
the dreams of those
whose senses
were blinded by
hypocritical alibis,
and actions guided by
their misplaced egos

She was sold
in the end, to a life
decided by those
who had
tears on their faces
and smiles in their eyes
as she bid goodbye
holding on to her
Illusion of choice.

Question – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 17

He was asked –
Why do you do the things you do?
Why do you write?
Why do you fight
every single day with your inner-self
and then,
How do you sleep at night?
Don’t they scare you?
The thoughts in your head
Don’t they whisper?
Don’t they pick on your fears,
When you can’t fight
and then,
feed on the wrath inside?
Don’t they scream in your ears
when you try to meditate?
Don’t they leave you
blind sided at times?
Don’t they light up your world on fire
and then,
Leave you stranded in the desert
when there’s no water in sight?
Do they know you are there?
Do they know you’re alive?
Do they know that you hold the power
to shut them forever,
or let them live to see the light?

The Circle Of Life – NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 16

What was once
a playful respite
for the thoughts of
an innocent child
now lies
barren and parched
begging the sky
for mercy

What was once
an exploding volcano
for the spirit of
a rebellious youth
now rests
tired and defeated
begging time
for mercy

What was once
a deep ocean
for the intellect of
a wrinkled sage
now sleeps
wise but impatient
begging life
for mercy