Ramblings of an eccentric

(Warning: This post is way too long for the weak hearted. Enter at your own risk)

(Disclaimer: This is a work of sleep-deprivation. The writer/s have no frigging relationship to this post whatsoever. )

One day, when you have eaten something particularly indigestible, you’ll sit down for a long time and let your mind wander. If you’re lucky enough to have ignored a certain blood-pumping organ of yours for most of your life, then mark my words! For you, sir, are going to need a nice, thick magazine in your bathroom from now on. However, if you don’t fall in that particular genre and have always been unlucky, you’ll see all the people that were. Don’t let your mind wander too far for you’ll remember all the bad parts because you haven’t reminisced the good parts enough. But you’re sitting in absolute silence and all that you see is a crimson ash falling like snow. What do you do then? You start remembering.

After an absolutely preposterous and illegal amount of caffeine, I understood that it kills when the person you worry about is absolutely oblivious to it. What if someday the veil rises and you find out that you weren’t enough? Perhaps some of us have been doing it wrong all these years. We were fools to believe that all those motion pictures and all those bestselling books were true. It was our fault not to have been able to discern between reality and, well, the non-existent.

NO! I’m not going into a rant here against matters of the heart. Definitely not! (My girlfriend will publicly stone me if I do!) I’m just making an observation. We let people into our lives. Be it a friend, family or fiancée, the people we love hold the power to break, shatter and puncture our heart. Yes, we hold that power over them too. But nobody really thinks that way, do they? It’s okay. We are all a little selfish. We don’t want to change. Even if we do, we don’t want our dear ones to change. And when all of us have changed, it’s time to set fire to that house of cards we so carefully built. I’m a small-city guy with small dreams. I don’t know how it works in the big cities. I don’t know how to be ‘cool’ and get into recreational substances or recreational adultery (I do know sarcasm though!) and I certainly don’t want my friends to go that way. But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know about the culture and the society in the big bright cities of the world!? What do I know about independent women and the ‘players’ of this earth? Nothing, I believe. It all seems like a hazy dream to me. A dream many wouldn’t want to be in.

The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that life is a long game of Texas hold’em poker. You are dealt a hand and you play with it. You win some and you lose some but nobody leaves the table till a certain grim reaper is involved in the picture. I may seem slightly crazy but just think about it! All our choices and our decisions are not always right or always wrong. We travel on a sine curve, aiming towards happiness and then cascading downwards to a little misery. All the quotes and sayings about ‘not having any regrets’ seems a little bullshit at such indigestible times. After introspection and many a sleepless nights it’s pretty clear that we get screwed severely when we get a full hand of hearts. Because even if we get a straight flush, the house always wins.

But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know?



This is a poem of incomplete stories. A poem about a conversation. A poem which allows to hope for a better tomorrow.

“Tell me a story!”

A tattered body, a battered mind,
Dusty feet and arms covered with grime,
A broken heart and some bleeding wounds,
Yes, this is a story of poorer times.

“What about the good times?”, she asked.

Keep patience, for it is yet to be told,
Stay here if you want to see it unfold.
Because I’ve fallen a victim to the wheels of time,
And surely summer will follow these days of cold.


“Tell me about colours…”

I can see yellow, black, white and brown,
But I see no red or green around,
but I wonder, what if all was just a serene blue?
I could be colour blind without any bounds.

“Tell me about love…”

I looked for you in old lifeless pics,
A hint of love or the blush in your cheeks,
And selfishly i wanted you back near me,
Because my poetry is nothing but our crazy streaks.

“Tell me about yourself…”

On odd days, on bad days, on days real good,
Poetry flows out as I sit and brood,
And I keep hoping this time will be it,
This time I’ll say what my heart would if it could.


(This is the first song I have ever written for someone! I decided it was time to write something on a cheerful note. This is something I haven’t done in a long time. Love as a subject is kind of hard to write for me. But as the great Plato said “At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet. Hope you all like it.)

Won’t you stay with me for some more time,
I don’t feel like being alone.
Someone like you is hard to find,
So don’t tell me that today you’ll be gone.

This time there will be no mistakes,
There won’t be a single wrong turn.
Don’t give up on us just this once,
Cause without you I’m gonna crash and burn.

No more red ink goodbyes,
To get lost in those lovely eyes,
To make sure my heart’s still beating,
To make sure that I keep on breathing,
To be under the same stars as you,
I’m coming home to you.

Ever wonder why I say you are my sunshine,
What will happen if we ever reach no-return.
No, I intend to keep all my promises,
I will alleviate all your myriad concerns.

So walk down this road with me again,
Bring back those countless moments of ours.
Let me surprise you time and again,
Like when I sent your favorite flowers.

No more fights, no more cries,
To see the sparkle in your eyes,
To see for real your heartwarming smile,
To make my days a bit more worthwhile,
To be whatever you want me to,
I’m coming home to you.

Tales Of Amber & The After-Effects

(I solemnly swear that all parts of this article have been written under strict conditions of sobriety.)

There comes a point in every ‘normal’ (to be read as ‘human’; I do not take into account certain sub-species who have renounced this world in search of wisdom) Indian male student’s life where he is introduced to one of the friendliest chemical compounds in this world. A certain ‘carbon’ chain that ends with a big fat –OH. I being one of the normal guys was introduced to this compound some two years ago! Before you start judging me, my fair lady who reads this, let me point out that I’ve been a gentleman till now and have limited my encounters with the amber liquid to twice a year. And I can have sober eye-witnesses confirm that I’ve never once disgraced myself by passing out because of over-consumption nor have I ever regurgitated. And here ends my decent into the British mode of speech.

indexThere is something sentimental about guys having the ‘friendly compound’ together which no one has ever understood. A way of bonding and connection in our circle. My first endeavor with it for the current financial year took place a few days back and after a gap of almost 6 months. It was the birthday of one of those people that you can’t ignore and eventually I was carried into the chosen spot of debauchery by enthusiastic wing-mates and classmates, already under influence.

There’s something soul calming and joyful about it. The chink of the glasses is like a trigger making you let go of all your worries for the next few hours. There are people who drink very less and just sit back and watch others. Then there are those like me who have enough to feel slightly lightheaded. And then there are the guys who go crazy. But whatever category you may belong to, you have to shed all your masks that day and be your true self. Trust me, no one will judge you! Hell, if we’re wasted enough we might even encourage you! Remember, most good stories are either caused by or uncovered by the amber.

I found my solace in an undisclosed amount of the ‘liquid’ and the one and a half hours of chorus that followed after! Ah the joy of singing old Bollywood numbers! You can sing however horribly or magnificently you want to and no one gives a damn. It is like freeing the soul from months of oppression you have suffered at the hands of horrible professors, horrible mess food and the horrible exams. The ultimate high point comes when you sing loud enough to wake people living around you in all the four directions!

Coming to the end, no session is ever complete without a drunk dial. I don’t understand why people find drunk texts/calls annoying. You’re the only person they are thinking of when their brain can’t even function properly. You should be flattered that someone likes you that much!

So, cheers to all guys and girls! And Amen to the after-effects!

Beautiful Moments

(This poem is based on two people I saw once. The thing which they had between them was really beautiful and it affected me in a big way. So this poem is for them. )

A few moments of your life, give and take,
beautiful sun rays dancing around you through the leaves,
while you walk in an autumn garden full of trees,
coming back to life with each and every little step.

garden walk

Time gets lost between the both of you.
No care in the world, just smiles and laughter,
echoing in the air lifting your spirits high enough,
to touch the sky and then fall back on the soft earth.

Sitting under the sparkling fountain of joy,
letting go of your sorrows and worries one by one.
Neither a care for anyone nor any problems,
background music playing like magic everywhere you go.

Happy that all which matters is at your side,
as the horizons harbor the setting sun and the rising moon,
and as you find yourself in the midst of a fairy-tale,
you find yourself wishing to have this moment forever.

The Last Bid

I tried to reassure that all will be fine,
tried to make you leave the past behind.
Kept the spark alive instead of all vice,
buried all my skeletons in front of your eyes.

I tried to look inside and raise you from the ash,
to reach in from outside and rescue your heart of glass.
I’ve tried to join all the pieces yet I couldn’t find,
the final piece that really made you mine.

I couldn’t make the right moves,
couldn’t bare my soul.
I’ve been walking on the edge ever since,
crumbling like a scroll.

Two worlds apart, yet never able to let go,
Sorry for the truths I could never show.
Now finally all lies bare, let all doubts be shown,
and if you are still not satisfied, then I’ll be gone.


Last Bench

I may have left the school days behind,
but the classroom never really  left me.
It’s still the same old routine of coming early,
to fill the last benches first.

Gone are the days of uniforms and lunchboxes,
gone are the days of “kneel-down”-ing.
The professor doesn’t give a damn and neither do we,
we just worry that he doesn’t disturb our sleep.


But then, the last bench has its own way,
of forcing you to sit and think.
And While the breeze hits me from the left and from behind,
I stare out of the window and get lost in my thoughts.

I’m pushed back in time, pushed far away,
away from the college classrooms and life.
The professor gets switched off just like a radio,
& all the last bench jokes become buzzing of bees.

I remember old jokes, I remember old pranks,
I remember all the times we laughed and cried.
I remember all the punishments we ever got in class,
I remember each and every smile.

My brain starts playing old videos,
kiddish fights and childish talks.
I remember all promises, all secrets we shared,
all that we thought was the ‘world’ for us.

Games class and football fights,
cat-fights and the gossip vine.
All that philosophical thinking and search for “love”,
nothing but leave a wavering smile.

‘Sharing’ lunches and diet-food!
Borrowing water bottles during a class.
Sticking chewing gum under the desks,
and writing our names over the walls.


The bell rings and my day dream breaks,
I want to stay but I can’t.
Lifting up my bag, I give the bench a look,
and a smiling me exits the class.