Comrades’ Technicolor Pants

Decades ago, one cloudy morning bereft of sun, few fathers of anarchy caught cold out of nowhere. Sneezing rhapsodies of how they should've been born cold-blooded, they devised a cunning mantra of raising the mercury forever, thereafter.   Then started the incessant beating of drums made of human skin, framed in more human bones; and … Continue reading Comrades’ Technicolor Pants


About Buddha’s nightmares

Dust is no more IN the wind. Dust is THE wind now. And masks, a new age ornamental, a trial to push death away; so similar to the ones that are almost like something that descends straight from the cerebrum and makes us who we are. Buddha's nightmares were used to not being seen, and … Continue reading About Buddha’s nightmares

From a hilltop.

I don't see any tags that say- "we give you happiness", or "connecting people" , or "you're the best"(and worst); or some raw slogans of making things "better", "again!".   From a hilltop, I can't hear bloodstains splashing white sheets of our being. My lungs stop respiring the normal dose of hypocrisy, I don't feel … Continue reading From a hilltop.

An Ode to Creative Bonding

Have you ever read a poem that gave you goose bumps, made a gentle itch in your soul that you desperately wanted to meet the poet in person? Have you ever heard a tune and felt a deep emotional attachment with it that you just wanted to shout out loud to the composer, out of … Continue reading An Ode to Creative Bonding


You could go, needless of alarms or surprises. You could bid godspeed and i wouldn't even wave you back. I've always hated goodbyes, still, I wouldn't even ask for you to stay.   Yet even after I've had tried a million times to cleanse your giggles off my memories, your curls that strayed into your … Continue reading Spilling