Damaged with betrayals of love, afraid & unable to trust, he said-
“I don’t believe in love. It doesn’t mean shit! Money rules the world; Not love.”

“It doesn’t need to. Love’s about faith & surrender; Not power or control.”

-She replied. 


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We live in the dark. 

We’re the lovers of the night. 

From the shadows of our mind,

We peek out & wonder at your magnificent light. 

And what a magical sight!

To see you fight, the orthodox minds. 

A champion of your own rights. 

Fearless amongst the timid,

Alive amongst the wishful beings. 

Capering gracefully through the societal conventions.

What is it if not courage?

You live in the chaotic centre of things.  

While we, the conformist cowards, try to merge. 

Taming our wild sides through secret, unnoticed acts. 

Hanging in the adjoining vestibules closer to our exit routes. 

And when we’re too tired of our fake facades,

We get drunk & hallucinate what real freedom will feel like.

True. It’s a very limited life. 

But we, in our naïveté, mistake it as a price of a peaceful one.

Hiding in our closets pretending the world isn’t on fire. 

Stuck in our own illusions. 

So don’t, for a minute think, that you need to change. 

It’s we, who need to give up our shadows 

and fight for the light we all equally want. 


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It has begun.  

Bitterness slowly crawls. 

Almost as if smirking a challenge. 

But the tenderfoot love thinks it can outrun…

The futility of it.

Floating in the sea of lies. 

Running on a cracked ice. 

Still believing you won’t ever loose. 

Sure! The love is blind. 

But, maybe that is where it’s strength lies?


I know this blog seems to be dying. But I swear, I’m trying desperately to keep it afloat; going against the savage life and my own procrastinating mind. 

Resistance… I’m sure you all have experienced it before.


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Swim or drown, 

Learn or perish, 

Love or die, 

Why it has to be one way or other?

& what about those who want a way out?


Dilemma: Confused with ‘problem’. If you have a problem, you do not know what to do. There may be many solutions. If you have a dilemma, you have a choice of two courses of action, neither attractive.”

~Harold Evans. The Guardian. 


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Maybe something’s broken. 

Or maybe I’m healing. 

Whatever it is- 

My words are gone.

My feelings are rooted. 

Never giving the river a chance. 

Nostalgic for something that was never mine. 

And without the novelty 

The muse grows stubborn, too.  

How do you fill blank pages,

If emptiness is all you feel?

I don’t know the answer,

But I know I need this. 

Just like I needed your songs,

To forget your lies,

and to remember the love. 

I need my words,

To stay afloat. 

They tether me to life.

Cause without them I’ll be drifting.

Gliding away in the open sky. 

A loose balloon in the summer breeze. 

What a freedom it’d be!

To finally be able to let go.

But I know the flight will be fleeting

And the freedom momentary. 

So I go back to my old shackles. 

I need to find my words. 

I have to. 

For I’ve always been a poet on borrowed emotions. 

& I need to write something new. 

So, I look in the places we fell in love. 

In long, heartfelt passages and wise one liners. 

In the pages which convinced me of magic.

In stories which broke barriers of space and time. 

& I still can’t find them. 

Where are they?

Who am I?

I’m lost… 

So, let me start again- 

‘I’m looking for my words…

Not love, not money, not happiness.

I just want my words. 

Has anybody seen them?’


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That sunny day,

when you looked dead in my eyes

& said you never loved me;

was the day the rain began. 

& it hasn’t stopped since.


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