Small Man, Big Man,
Tall Man, Short Man,
Poor Man, Rich Man,
Good Man, Bad Man,

Ultimately Dead Man.

The prisoners of Rain

I dream of:
Sharing an afternoon with you
Neither of us speaks
We just hold hands
And watch the rain
The rain falls incessantly
It drizzles and pours
Swishes and roars
And does all the talking
It tells you
How much I love you!
And then your hand trembles
Silently accepting my love
And you will want
To melt in my arms
And feel secure...
But you will continue
To look at the rain
Lest you miss what it wants to tell
And its performance overwhelms you
I can see your tears
Are you so happy?

Then it will be evening
You will unlock our sweaty hands
And then embrace me
Forever

You wouldn't have spoken yet,
But silently you would have said,
"Yes"

to my guru,
who knows not
how much i learned from her
I am but an Eklavya
who deceptively learnt
but am a noble thief
and have nothing to offer you
except my gratitude.

May God light your path and bless your family.

You alone matter
How can I prove
What their eyes cannot see
Or their hands cannot touch?

Let them not accept
My duty lies in telling them.

A pot of chawal,
A bowl of dal,
A jar of pickle,
That's all

A string of happiness
A string of sorrow
A cold winter
A torn sweater

Solo song
Lonely listener
Caught in freedom
Still a prisoner

Uprooted
Now I stand
My destiny
In my hand

What's next?
I know not
YOU do
And only YOU

I believe:
Love and Peace

I conceptualised you
I groomed you
I nurtured you
I loved you

Then I set you free
From inhibitions
And from my mind
And exposed you to the world

You left me, didn't look back
To explore the bigbad world
There were some who loved you
And some who raped you

You returned to me shattered and bruised
I stil love you, my poetry.