​This interval is what bothers me.

The minutes that follow,

The silence that settles,

The confusion, the chaos..

Every mistake, 

Resounding like an echo;

And as the end of every week

Or month

Draws near,

And expectations arise,

And memories conjured

Of happy moments

Seeming like things of the past,

Like pieces of a mirror

Reflecting a broken self;

And coming back

To this interval

That follows.

Like a trench in the ocean

Seeming long forgotten

But always looked out for,

As time flies by,

This interval grows;

On the other side of this interval,

Is hope, 

Of a renewed friendship,

Of bonds of eternal care;

And I shall wait,


In awkwardness and guilt,

For what I’ve done,

Trapped in this interval

Of nothingness

That will extend 

Until what seems

Like the end of time.



Insides clenching,

Things running amok,

Patience diminishing,

Will power receding,

Skies reeling,

Eyes barely open,

Consciousness teetering,

Anger intensifying,

Desperation heightening,

Tears brimming,

When nothing else mattered,

Shivering out of weakness,

Amidst the torment of hunger,

The only piece of bread left,

She fed her little son.

The angel I waited for


Helloooeeee guys! Long time no see? That was what I was thinking too! Since  I had become so uncreative and lazy nowadays, a friend of mine and I decided to bring back our creativity by writing a short story each. And this was my attempt at returning as a writer (though it didn’t work out that well).. Anyway, enjoy the story. 🙂


Walking through the lavishly paved road, I came to a halt where a tiny street intersected.

This was the place.

I stood there, watching people hurry to work; the cars on the road honked none too gently, and the impatient bikes made their way through the gaps in between.
The sun shone brightly upon the land beneath, and I raised my face, as though I could feel the vitamin D seep through my skin.

It was a busy day. Little girls with tiny gowns stood waiting for their school bus to pick them up. I stood there still, waiting.

What was I waiting for?

I did not know.

In fact, I did not know anything. I had been coming to this place everyday since I woke up all alone in that dirty place, knowing I’d get some clue about something I might need from my old life.

I didn’t even remember who I was.

I had found my phone, and in that, there was a reminder.. reminding me to visit that place everyday.

Why would I have visited that place everyday? It was just an ordinary road anyway.

But something inside me told me it wasn’t.

When I woke up from oblivion a few days ago, I had found myself in a dirty place, fully beaten up; beside me were someone’s divorce papers – perhaps they were mine; I had also found a bag full of money, enough to last a lifetime. If I really wanted, I could’ve started a new life; gotten all that I needed.

But some part of my brain disagreed. It told me there was something that I needed much more than money.

Just then, a little girl came down the cramped lane and walked towards her friend. Her skin was pale, yet healthy. Her eyes, innocent.

And those wide-open eyes were looking for something. She looked at the tree beside her, then at the traffic, and then…

At me.

When those tiny eyes met mine, she froze. So did I.

And with that one look at her, I knew. She was everything I needed.

I even realized why I would want to come here everyday. Though I didn’t remember her, didn’t recognise who she was, I knew she was the one for whom I had been living.

She was certainly worth waiting for every morning.

She was my daughter.

The real hero


A man of strength and of strong-will he is,
A man of endless patience and humor;
He blows away his worries in a single breath,
And moves casually forward.
He laughs despite his worries;
Even when life throws challenges at him;
He conceals his inward suffering,
And lives like the great man he is.
He often gets angry;
‘Cause life had never been fair.
It snatched his eyes away from him,
And in a dark corner, made him sit.
He had a wish, that man;
To see his little granddaughter once.
For, he had seen neither of his two grandchildren
Nor his two son-in-laws.
She had the same wish too,
And asked him when he’d be able to see.
He told her he had been praying God,
And his wish might be answered one day.
Back then, she was his everything;
Her laughter was a comfort in the dark.
He taught her things, and took pride in her;
He was the most loving grandpa there was.
He lifted her to the high window frequently,
Where she liked to stand;
He made her swing on his feet while he sat;
He encouraged her every whim.
At first, everything was great,
Everyone was happy.
But the real problems arrived,
When his health took a sharp turn.
He was needed to rush to the doc
Every now and again,
And that’s when his granddaughter,
Was not really there.
A little over a decade of struggle,
And he’s still the same.
Today, he’s at the hospital, very weak,
And she feels helpless, being far away.
She visited the temple nearby,
But that was just for peace.
She wants to see him now,
She misses him like hell.
He asked her granny to tell her he was fine,
Though he was barely himself.
But she got the news, along with what he’d mentioned,
And wrote a poem on how he’s the best.
A grandfather’s love is so pure,
So selfless,
That all he would want, even now,
Is the happiness of his daughters and grandchildren.

I love you, grandpa. You were the best.

A broken relationship


Watching a couple’s relationship spiral down to dust, I wrote this poem. They weren’t made-for-each-other, but they still manage to live together and smile, just because they love their daughter quite a lot. They’d rather torment themselves than see her frown.

What a wonderful pair indeed! Love, sometimes, comes from somewhere you don’t expect. Not from each other, but from the happiness of someone else they didn’t think of while they got married… Anyway, they never quite spoke much to each other. Though the couple were adjusting, living in the same house, their relationship could not be repaired is what I came to find out. I often drop by for a chat with Mrs. K, but Mr. K doesn’t talk much to me.

A relationship so frail and tight…
Like the glass of my window pane.

A bond that’s broken beyond might…
Like a boulder on the mind of the sane.

Of a non-existent love, of extreme spite…
Like the nothingness amidst sheer pain.

As strict as a customary rite…
Like all things mundane.

An expression of apathy, subtly arousing fright…
Like the barren mainland bearing cocaine

A long-lost faith, kindling dreads of the night…
Like the dirty waters of the polluted oceans lain.

A desperate attempt to make things right…
Like a coin running down the drain.

Yet, lost to the winds in plain sight…
Like a villain on a fine day slain.

Finally, a sorrow-drenched figure comes to light…
But, who is to blame?