The window seat

When the days are blue and nights go doomed, I shut the door of my heart to find the cure of my loneliness.Within the walls of my dark laden heart, lies a window; a space enough to accommodate me with my knees touching to my chest. Its a space so secure, that no one can find me, no one can join me in my own conversations with self. I sit there for days and bothersome nights until I  reckon myself to come back to the shades of reality. Its the solace which gives me strength to fight all that odd in me, a courage to seek solitude in my aloofness with the love. Often I call it my hideout, often I wash out my anger at this window. Some of days a hollow feeling surmounts me, What if,  this window never existed?

Humanity in motion

She asked me, “what is humanity in motion”? 

I knew, it was the moment when I should have kissed her gently on her lips and told her what is in my heart. Instead I drew her near my chest, swiftly nibbling on her neck, I went high to her right ear lobe exhaling like a last breath. I went down caressing her honey hair with in the webs of my entangled fingers. Her smell like the breeze of fresh oranges on the spring blossom aroused me intently,bringing me closer to her lean figure. I wanted to linger the fervour of her curved neck when she suddenly hushed me back! 

“I wanted to know the humanity in motion not the poetry in motion”, she shrugged away, taking her neck back to herself. 

I smiled, “if you had surrendered to my love, it’s humanity in motion”. 

She pushed me aside, “you dog”.         


Until said, my truths decipher into my actions. For least, millions of thoughts pass across my mind, every millionth second of the day. They come with the speed of a jet and leave in a jiffy. There are times when I am making mental notes on pros and cons of quitting my job. and then in another minute I am researching a new place to travel. Life is a complete mess with the uncertainty of present and future. One thing I am assured of is, my past.

For unsaid, my past is a tomb of withered love with a live casket of orange memoirs buried within my chest  Life may be confusing with every ticking clock, but I am never confused about You.

3.33 am

It’s that 25th hour of the day, when nothing burns more inside than a lost soul. They say that, it’s the darkest hour of the night when the demons of a burnt soul arise from the ashes. I lay awake dazed to my painful betrayed past who reckons to leave me as a tied curse.

It’s the hate which can be won over; it’s the revenge which can be served ever but what can you do when you burn in love. What good can overcome a hurt in love?

Perhaps!! Some more love.

Every night, as the clock strikes  3.33 am and my un-rested soul creeps  for more. Like hunger, my body craves for the weight of another being, my mind starves for it’s another kind and I lie unmoved waiting for a half touch to wake me back to senses. But the minute pass, as convulsively as it comes, leaving me lost in my slumber and agony, with a promise to return again.

Does Moving-on Exist over Forever Love?

Recently it is in vogue to re-take and re-live the vows of marriage after certain years of married live. Couples are seen celebrating their decade, silvers with ceremonial vows of relationship. I wonder, what keeps them sticking together. Is it that, they are bound to stick-in for social cause or they really feel opt-out?

As an Indian, I was raised with the fact that the terrible twos in a marriage has and have to stick together even if the marriage falls apart. But it didn’t work for me. With the fall of marriage, the boundary of social norms also disappeared and  the chained mind found their lost freedom.

After several years of the failed marriage, I still feel stuck to it and moving on seems a non-existent entity totally. I ask myself, If moving on really exist? or is it a forever kind of love we have read in classic cliche stories.

How is it that my ‘ex’ moved on and I am not?

With time we change and so the definitions of our love. The love which was pure and divine lost its charm with the friction of work and lust of achievements. The failures got loaded on the affection and love became it self a compromise. It took a heavy troll on both of us and the foundation of relationship got weaned. there was a point of time when I wanted to be out of the pact and live apart. for considerable part of time, peace prevailed post break-up.

Yet, I am not able to enjoy that freedom to the fullest, as if I am still chained to the past and an unseen boundary holds me to look beyond a myopic eye. I wonder if “Moving on exists post a fall-out relationship”.

I searched for the actual meaning of moving-on on the internet. After a dedicated research I concluded that its a strategic term used by love gurus to handle the break up agonies and help people to fall in love again.

Do I want to fall-in love again? If I do, be it with a same person or the new silhouette. I guess a new face will be as utilitarian as the love would be. Better, I stick with my terrible one

. _mg_3667

Incredible past

As the light goes off, and I am laying alone in my bed. It’s the perfect pitch black dark when my demons come out of their skin. The silence which keeps me awake far away from the single slumber wink, sinks with in the hollow sanity of my thoughts. I lay bare as the thoughts run faster than the speed of light from past to present and back ways. In that moment I question myself, “why is this happening to me”.

The moment passed unanswered, as deep within I knew the same motion has set in. Its the absence of the presence of the unloaded figure next to me I used to find every midnight in forgotten days.

I try hard. I try harder to block the slide show of those running thoughts. but the efforts go in-vain. After few hours of constant struggle with myself I give up. and the answer belongs to me.

I am in love. I am still in love with the incredible past._MG_1390.jpg



Sometimes the truth erupts like a volcano from the buried lies and it brings the pain as fresh as the levicorpus. Random thoughts start clogging the mind.Voices of various notes start hitting within,as if they want to scream and come out of it. In then there is this voice, which is very distinct and you know, it sounds like yours. You want to hear it and say to it back. In that attempt, the body looses its touch to the reality. There is this thin line between sanity and going insane. All I seek is a hide out to escape the narrow lanes of pessimism and disputes of lonesome heart.


The shirt which still smells of bare chest hanging to the tiny hanger with the earthen fervor of body eloped in the cloth lies in my closet for these lonely moments when closet becomes the only hideout. I stay naked,barren with love in the dark wooden chamber for a while till the breath becomes heavy enough to soak me in my own sweat. the warmth of the shirt calms me from the shivers of broken heart and the life regresses to the trade.