Rusted weapons,
A blunt sword,
Can't protect that lil' corner we belong.
A damped roof,
Water seeps in,
Can't give the comfort, you long.

My old wall clock,
A deceptive mimic, hear it mock!
My time, your pace, don't match anymore.
All I have, a couplet of a poem,
A bunch of cards, hand-drawn,
They don't tug your chords, like before.

I loosen the strings, the ties today,
Dear Love, go drift away,
In the intoxication, your stubborn desire.
Will burn down the moments,
Drenched in sepia,
Your material empire, lends me this fire.

May you sparkle in your world,
In a glossy plastic wrap,
The lights await, where your joys lie.
Don't you worry, I won't walk that track
Will let it all go, won't look back,
Will coax those stupid habits, refusing to die.

Note: If you are viewing my paintings on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me!

Would the sound of my silence

Travel through the labyrinth of our routine,

Like my myriad words do

When they caress your skin?

Would the warmth of my gaze

Dissolve the wars we fought and lost,

Like the heat of my touch

Penetrates your smog and melts your frost?

Would my evening’s fatigue, sweat, and toil

Make you proud of my ways less-trodden,

Like my morning pranks and tickles

Add to our pile of memories begotten?

Would my flight, free and high

Make you be my wild gust of wind,

Like your ecstasies soar

For us being thus intertwined?

Would the traces of my thoughts

Etch marks on your soul,

Like the reminiscence of my estrogen

Lingers on your whole?

Note: If you are viewing the photo on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me!

Next time you see me sitting alone in the corner-most table of the college-canteen, don't think I am lonely...I may be spending some 'we-time' with my pen and doodle book. Just leave us alone!

When you have a three-hour class and you are utterly bored, make sure you have your doodle book with you! 😉

In the world of 

More knowledge, less wisdom

Commercialisation of cinema,

Hit electro-tuned singing by actors,

And acting by the singers, 

For songs more to be seen than heard,

For paintings more to be marketed than felt...