Hello world, I am god.
On Earth, I had the dream to create life.
I am the one who painted green.
First, I weaved grass – they served a purpose.
They held onto the skin of my Earth.
Then chiselled trees with a different purpose.
I gave them fruit, knowing that someday
The fruits would serve some greater cause.
Continue reading “The Purpose of Lucifer”
Deserted myself; blew up into the smoke,
Drowned in liquor; walked out of all ties,
Tied to posts and hung from the cliff;
Gasped for drown; vomited dragon.
Made more alone; walked out of body,
Flew off the ground; hit the clouds,
Blasted through the mountains,
Burnt into ashes; destroyed in oblivion.
Continue reading “Crossover To The Adversary”
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.
Simply because there is no road, does not mean that the journey stops. Perhaps, after the meandering journey of our lives, all of us do reach an end. But, as someone had said, “at the end it is the journey that matters the most.”
Occasions remind us of the end — birthday, anniversary, new year and more.
Continue reading “Live Not a Carcass”
From the bed in our old house, I could see the park and all those playing there. How lucky they were!
Ma said that rats would come one day, take my teeth and give back stronger and sharper ones. “Ma, when will the rats come? It pains!” Ma was not there to hear me. Nobody hears me. Even Majid Bhai would not listen to me when I say that I’m spitting blood. Anyway, when everyone would be celebrating, I would have to work.
Continue reading “The Day I Was Happy”
As for me, I am a thirty-two year old spinster, living alone in my eleventh floor apartment. And if you too think that I need a physical fitness program, let me tell you that I get enough by beating around the bush, by jumping to conclusions, by going round in circles and by running down my boss! Who wants more? Continue reading “Too Lucky To Be Yours”
This was written years ago, on my eighteenth birthday. (I intended to respect myself and not make any modification to the original script.)
When I look up at the sky, I see not any stars;
Nor do I see any planet, moon, cloud, neither any comet.
What I see are faces.
Faces, looking down at me, speaking to me and calling me…
Every face forms a star; and every star — a face.
Some laugh, some cry, some mock
And the rest haunt.
Some of the faces are known when some of them are strangers
I know those strangers. Don’t I?
Continue reading “Looking Down At Myself”
The peals of laughter seems so spiteful
With its sympathetic touch,
It is really frightful.
Everything in life is cursed.
But cursed be life
For the birth of such superfluous emotions,
Full of redemptions,
Spanning beyond the reach
Of the tattered and the scattered
Grains of torrential curse.
Continue reading “The Perplexed Choice”
Why I write again
Why am I in pain
Why can’t things be right
Why you ask, why again?
Why can’t people do good
Why can’t dreams come true
Why aren’t things controlled
Why you ask why untold?
Continue reading “Why In Vain”