Previously posted and still available on my blog ‘Random Cerebrations’ this was liked by almost everyone who came across it. Subtle and romantic I regard this as one of my better works.
I had posted it on my blog ‘Random Cerebrations’ and mentioned that ‘This is my poem. I wrote it’ and ‘I don’t care if it sucks’. I still stand by that comment.
Based on real life incident. People who find descriptions of gore distasteful are requested to skip this and advised to recite nursery rhymes for a while… I on the other hand shall keep dishing out tales like this because as I see it, real life often needs to be scraped off a shoe.”
This story comes to life following an incident in personal life. It is fiction for most part of it except for an underlying common theme. People who know me probably know that as well..For others, it still holds as a good romantic read.
Well, this is no documented story in history, just a figment of my imagination. The story goes that prince Siddhartha left his wife and son and denounced the world and its pleasures. I just thought of narrating it from the wive’s perspective. I guess this story begins where the history ends..One of my recommended reads.
I used to see a lunatic on road at times on my way to school. In the rickshaw I used to take, I would find children my age suddenly hushed to silence on seeing him. Though, this was decades ago, it somehow got transcended into a small piece of fiction. Needless to say, the Neem tree and the incident around it is a figment of my imagination.
I remember a night before the festival of Holi, many many years ago, my dad was particularly late in returning from work and my mom waited for him often looking out of the window or going to the door. Those were days when even landlines were not common and mobiles hadn’t really come into existence. The incident just found form in this story…
Short, sweet, simple, candy floss. Fun read.
“The first cigarette is like first love. Both use the lips to explore, leave a heart burn and very rarely get to a conclusion” I looked at the lit end of the cigarette for a brief moment before taking another drag. The ruby burnt bright and the paper ebbed in. The stashed smoke escaped in …
‘The Ivory Dreams’ is purely fiction and one of my first attempts at the noir genre. The incident is linear like my other works and the details are worked to suit the plot. A man lusts for a co-passenger on a train only to discover….read on, if you care.
I regard this as my best work of fiction till date. Recommended for its soulful plain narrative. Over the years, people and friends who have read it have accused me of making them cry. Read on at your own risk…:)
‘अभी ज़िंदा हूँ मैं’ is perhaps one of my finest works. It is not very often that when you are writing, you get into a zone where verses just flow to you. A recommended read from my side.
Romantic like most of the other Hindi poems, this one is a bit loud as compared to other of my works in the similar category.
Rejected was the first story I experimented with perspectives. How a single situation is seen by two parties on either side differently despite them being tied by a common bond which remains undiscovered.
‘यह तेरा मेरा आसमान’ started off in a different mood and took a different course altogether by the time it finished. Easy, romantic once again.
‘The Yellow Envelope’ is about a choice. There are certain things which can’t be sold, not because there aren’t any takers but because you can’t find anyone eligible to keep the legacy intact. Structured over a romantic theme and a tinge of pain again, this one remains my favorite.
‘The other side of the ocean’ is a simple narrative and one of my earlier works. The situation is one which is not hard to find. Nostalgic, romantic and finishing with a tinge of pain, it remains one easy ready.
I wrote ‘मैं आज़ाद हूँ’ sitting in office on eve of Independence day celebrations at the work place. I had a cubicle with a nice view overlooking the road in that particular organization. There was an office event planned during the lunch hour and I was sitting working on something when I happened to see a boy not older than 10 perhaps running after cars on a traffic light selling them Indian flags. This simple flash triggered this poem and I completed and recited it during the event the same day.
This remains a special piece of work since I titled the notebook that I started using to write my poems in with the same name.
मुलज़िम perhaps marks my coming of age with Hindi poetry. There is an unrelenting anger throughout the poem. The essence blends Urdu words and which I feel were necessary to bring out the right meaning to the reader.
‘And It Rained’ is more like a monologue written for my own self than anyone else. This syncs up another of my works – a poem titled ‘The Draught’ available under the section ‘The Realms of Love & Trance’
Life as it happens between days and morning routines. All of us put a mask on when stepping out and become a different person when alone. This story discovers lost bits between morning chores, dreams and life in general.
I still haven’t called it a day yet.
The rising is about my planned resurrection. The theme is mainly abstract and borders on being dark. An alternate interpretation of this is a positive one where I hope to rise again from being down and out. Read and judge for yourself.
This was written at a time when I was perhaps all time low. I was unsure of all footing in life and had undergone a serious emotional crisis. I don’t regard it as an emphatic literary work, yet all the pieces from that time keep me grounded and are hence special.
I think I modified it a bit from what I originally wrote in 2004. This is an easy piece, simple rhyming scheme and abstract ranting…
An abstract monologue, hazy and short.
‘She lives on’ is a special poem and it is special because the person this poem is dedicated to was and remains a very special person. Like the poem says.. She lives on…In my smiles and tears…In this life and beyond and In times that move on…
I don’t remember what exactly triggered or inspired this short piece. I like it for its simplicity and a single thought. It is not very often that I can churn out a piece in ten minutes flat. Short, crisp, linear…that’s it.
Mamma is the closest any of my stories could get to my personal life. Based on the series of events around my grand mother’s death, this is one recommended read.