So, I stood with my gun,
On top of tiny hill.
I looked for my pawn,
Behind the shrub, still.

No one came that day,
But my anger still stayed.
The memories were raw,
Enough already being said.

I walked miles,
still the gun in my hand.
I imagined humans,
Sometimes shooting in the sand.

I had bullets galore
Given by a “kind man” in mask.
“Use it well”, he said
Complete your task.

All I knew was
I didn’t know enough.
But my anger told me
Enough is enough !!

Those people in uniforms
Took all I had
Those people in uniforms
Were idiots and bad.

The memories were raw,
My hands still seem red.
My brother was handicapped,
My parents were dead.

They threw the bomb
Said the words on street.
He gave me food and shelter
His version seemed legit.

My target was known,
As I walked closer to his home.
My mind was calm,
As light as foam.

I entered that place,
The lavish palace it seemed
Was built from the lakhs
” Informing” was all he did.

My hands were steady,
As I went up the stairs,
My mind was ready,
I was reciting my prayers.

So, I opened the door in a flash,
Entered to find her with a toy.
Her mother seemed to be bathing
She seemed go to play with a Sepoy.

I felt like killing her,
But her face put my anger aside,
Her eyes looked at me,
I melted deep inside.

I tried to stay calm
And finish my target.
She was a small kid,
Nothing to do with us, I bet.

Soon, the child giggled
I hid behind the door
Father father she cried
As she crawled on all four.

Then it struck me
I knew what was wrong
My eyes lit up a little
A distant bird sang a song.

I threw the gun away
I walked towards the unknown
I smiled thinking of her face
As the distant sun shone.


Rainy Day

Have you ever woken up during your school days hoping it would be declared as a rainy day. Rainy days during childhood for me was a glimmer of hope to be honest. It was not only the holiday, I was focused on. To have an entire day to yourself where you could sit down in front of the small stairs to your home and watch the clouds come, it was magical to a child’s mind. I found it engrossing and beautiful. Amidst, the regular calls of my mother to go back to studies or finish my homework, it surely was bliss.
As we grow up, rainy day has changed in its meaning. It’s a day where we go to office no matter what and crib the rains, the potholes on the road filled with water, the stench of the drains etc etc. Somehow, I feel I have been able to retain in my mind, my initial feelings about a rainy day. Thus, when I go out to office, I dont see those negative stuff. I see the lush of the greens, beauty of the dark clouds approaching on a semi blue sky. I feel the cool winds telling me the rains are back and I sense the nostalgia of childhood of if only, I had the time to sit by myself and stare the clouds. To childhood memories and innocent love, rainy day !!

Sunshine in your eyes..

You wake up in the morning
Sunshine in your eyes
The ragged bed sheet tossed aside
Sweat running down your face.

A long day awaits you
Your heart cries out aloud
Your head just shakes at this misfortune
You just cannot accept your place.

Life took a wrong turn decade ago
It seemed a minor glitch
As errors became blunders
Luck slapped on your face.

You want God to be benevolent
Gift you something you don’t deserve
Someone has to be kind
Someone should turn around your days.

That turnaround never came
That help never arrived
As you kept looking for help outside
You forgot to look inside.

Your tired body tells you the answer
Its you who has to strive
You wake up in the morning again
Sunshine in your eyes.

A step you can’t take back..

A lot of awareness has started on depression. We have come a long way from the times depression was considered a thing for ladies and guys being sad were considered pussies !! Over course of time, people have come to accept depression as a state of mind, as an illness that anyone can suffer and that requires support from near and dear ones.

I see Facebook posts stating you are not alone and people asking to ping them, if at any point of time, you feel so. I sometimes ask myself, is it for real as a society have we started showing concern for others for reasons other than greed or profit. This is a huge step for humanity much larger than what Neil Armstrong would have taken perhaps.

As I walk back home, I see the sunset, glowing in its golden bask. I see people watching the same and smiling to themselves like I do. The evening breeze from the nearby golf course and parks swivel my unkempt hair and I try to make it look combed as I walk on.

I watch the park from outside as I walk past it. A lot of families, kids playing with other kids, kids playing with families, old persons walking, smiling,talking to each other and in distance, couples smug into each other trying to escape attention of others and drowning in each other.

As I walk on, I find in distance small food stalls with people swarming around them, trying to gossip as they gulp down the food. There’s a sugarcane vendor and I go to him, take a glass of sugarcane juice as I continue my evening back. It’s getting late as the sun has lost its shine. It’s moved on to some other place as the creaks get louder on my way back home.

I walk silently observing people walking beside me, all in some unknown hurry. Young kids in a hurry to lose some unwanted weight, mothers in a hurry to reach back home, matured adults in a hurry to go back to their busy lives having taken a break to soak some airs. My hands in my pockets, I walk on slowly in peace.

I reach my apartment, smile at the guards . I reach my place and I sit down for a minute. ‘Fine’ comes to my mind, my neighbor had just asked me outside how I was and I smiled and replied fine. It’s a different world perhaps I chuckle where people want to help others. It’s not one I grew up in and somehow yet with all these questions, concerns, Facebook posts etc, I still don’t feel anything different about myself. I still don’t feel like I want to open up. I still don’t feel the world is fair or I belong to it. I still feel indifferent, I still feel alone.

As I stand on the chair with the noose in my hands, I feel surreal, a bit odd and highly nostalgic yet I don’t feel I want to talk about it to someone real. With a sheepish smile on my face, I finally take the step you can’t take back.


P.S:- It’s a random musing that came to my mind as I feel as a society we still are yet to do much to reach out to people who cannot reach out themselves.

Warm Regards.


The black clouds beseech
A loud cry
The war will begin
Blood will flow
Lives lost
They were just giving a final try.

Humans won’t stop
As they seek victory, land
Revenge, love, lust
Fulfilling of ego,
Repairing an earlier loss
They seek to recover all
Standing on the hollow sand.

Death seemed inevitable for many
Some didn’t care
Many had fear on their minds
As families sighed in their hearts
The war will begin,
There is no further escape
Many brave men born,
Most laid bare.

Just the thoughts..

I see the sunlight coming through the window and falling on my desk. The dust particles illuminated by the small cone of light that could find its way into the room.
I remember during childhood, sitting with a thick book of physics and imagining myself as a politician as chief minister of my state. I would think of the number of welfare measures I would take. The number of battles I would fight with local goons, businessmen and continue working hard for five years and then to walk away from political scene to live a quiet life.
I would think of myself playing football for india representing my nation in world cup, scoring goals and fighting injuries to win it for our nation. The celebrations, jubilations and the tears which would actually reflect on my cheeks.
I would look back at that small cone of sunlight falling on my book and smile as I see a lot of dust particles swimming in the ocean of sunlight. I would try taking them in my fist and smile as the warmth makes me feel good. Suddenly, I would remember the chapter I was studying and I would go back to the book.

Just a small incident makes us go spiraling back to childhood jumping from one memory to another. Such is the gift that life has given us.