September 24, 2014



there is a stone inside of me
that i cant break; choked by
a ball in my mouth
that i cant swallow 
cant spit out

my anger has flowed to the gutter
along with the vomit of 
the whiskey and undigested kolkata
my beauty is that of the coward man
contained in his boundaries
defending the indefensible 

the clock ticks one two three 
second by second
the muscles slacken from age
the bones bend 
reminding me of me
the day loosing its scent 
the brightness turning into stuporous amber

till one day when nothing is left
i am face to face  with the stone
i try to cut it out
but its chained to my heart

the clocks tick 
i breathe
nothing happens.


August 31, 2014

Come, tell me how you live.

The moment in the photograph 
Was decision or serendipity? 
The photographer is being photographed 
Exposing our naked vulnerability-

Of never being authentic;never being fake
Ah! memory at the age of perfect counterfeit.
creating auto awesome stories of your taste
The closed circuit cameras that keep asking  

Come ,tell me how you live?
Where you put your dentures as you sleep?
Whom do you miss when you wake up?
Where you vanish when the light recedes?

Jigsaw falling into place
Black swans swimming ,
the dark waters of 
innocence and frailty
As the photographs 
in frozen hardwares
begin to  betray memory.