A good day for a good death

I think I have enjoyed solitude since I was here in this form and shape. And I have spent 25 nonexisting years to realise its not the solitude. Rather silence. I am more communicative with it. The language it speaks the comfort it gives in its cold arm I have fell asleep with serenity.

Moments break our life is a beautiful recollection of fragile things. I have spent some humanly time brushing them up, gluing and stitching neat. But the cracks and hollows stayed. I have spent 25 years of my fragile life figuring out those cracks and hollows are the abstract pattern in the canvas of silence made it more beautiful, more deep.

I am a designer of imperfection and recycling thoughts it grows in silence


Summary of this week

Things could have been this way.

A student is abused by a janitor, all teachers could have stood up instead of bathroom gossip. Supported the brave little girl mentally.

A center Manager could have not acted like a khap panchayet and given the perpetrator a second chance in front of the victim without having a word with the girl how is she feeling.

She could have gone home with her brave heart. Slept better knowing there are hope, there are people, standing up against abuses instead of people hiding behind some unknown mathematical equations they keeps calculating and measuring life is not chess. Even if it is, there are more than one way to win and more than one to lose.

She could have slept better instead of thinking all night about how will she tolerate that second chance for rest of her course. She could have come to college with a fresh mind, it was valentines day after all and the last one with her friends at this college.

My friend, he could have not misunderstand me and interpreted me wrong, bringing his ego out regarding one simple word. “Sorry “

Sorry is an expression of feeling bad.

Which according to my friend, he felt bad that one student cried because of another student. But the very word sorry is not acceptable to show that he felt bad as he never says sorry for anything.

Someone said it right. We listen to reply not to communicate.

Things could have gone this way, he was saying sorry as he felt bad as it happened in his class. And the student to the other student for misbehaving in his classroom. Instead of him showing ego and anger on my children he thinks I love more. But I don’t.

I will fight for all of them my batch his batch her batch all the people can play chess hide behind pawn to save the king. I love them all.

Things could have gone this way.

When during interviews they asked why teaching? I answered because I love teaching, I love them kids, full of potentials and hope. They should have remembered that.

Things would have been different then


The truth is

No I’m not Okay

and I will never be

The truth is

I was never okay

And being not okay right now

I think I’m alright

Some Technology stuff

So he said it right

Sitting on his class

Clouding his class room

Doing different work

In different dimensions

And existence

Thinking about our different perspectives


Pathways and hopes

So he said it right

– “we have different roots to go home

But destination is the same”

So he said it right

We all go home

At night.

Chili chicken

Boneless meat

Dead bodies marinated with vinegar

Cooked well with soy sauce

And ingredients less important

As it brings taste

Taste to the tongue of liars and thieves

Last piece of meat I have cooked

Last piece of food my brother had

From my hand

The hand less important

Brings word to it

Our existence

Making it worth living

Boneless meat

I have been asked again

To cook

They would not know it

Hidden well in sarcasm

And peanut butter bread

The story of a dead chicken

A dying brother

And a cursed sister

With too many bones.

Dry anxiety

Oxygen food water sex

And problems

The endless existence

The primal necessities

It defines us

It defines how some can let go

In tears and music

Cocain and bullets

And some can hold on to it

In smile and dances

Breathe and hope

Hope destroy us all

Then again

Some eyes can get wet

With words

Words are primal necessities too

Doll house

I don’t want to solve him

The pieces of puzzle I have got

Collected from our favourite candy shop

I know I barely have a few

Not close to give it a try

Try to give it a figure

A name

A blame

I don’t wanna solve him

The delirium I am

In my abstract realm

I keep losing myself

I needn’t be found

Some floating lemon tea

We would smoke

Rolled in unbleached paper

Of colour I could never taste

He is the map

Of my sigil

I have lost somewhere

Sometimes ago

I have lost that time too

And a place

And some pieces of his puzzle

As I said

– I don’t wanna solve him


That owl always reminds me of me

Or us

But who cares

We both are odd men out

Too bright to see

Our way out

Or just too alone

To let go

Trying to fit in

That owl reminds me of me

Brave enough to step out

In the sun

To fly with the crow

Hopeless hope

For a little darkness

Will destroy us

That owl……

He reminds me of my brother too

But that’s another story

From another realm

Sleeping peacefully

I mustn’t wake

A lie and truth in between

There is a depth

In words like forever

All the time

There is a depth in its lie of truth

Or truth of lies

I would like to keep listening


There is a joy in getting late

The lie going on behind my back

To keep me for few more minutes

I would love to walk


But lie

Or truth

Reality settles down

With something

And we were surrealist

Scared of coming out

Closed on closets


Daal kadhi

I wanted to write a poem

about daal kadhi

Whether there is any daal at All

Over a smoke I am trying to quit

And them too

Him too

But he writes better poems

Better than anyone else

About daal kadhi he may never write

Or ever I taste.