Eye am real.

My outer shell
Of sensations
Seems to shake
Its great
To know
And feel
All this
Together

A wholesome
Mouthful
Contented
Warmth
From just
Feeling

Do you feel?

Do you feel the way
You eat
Or fear
The unknown?

Consciously
Stupid

Consciously
Intelligent

Consciously
Absent
From the current
Moment

Consciously
Calculating
The reasons
For years

Consciously feeding
Your body

Aware of
Being unaware
About
Everything there is
But why

We know
If no
Humans
Exist

The nature
Wouldn't
Even blink
An eye

An eye
That is
In all of us

Our conscious
Little
Eye

The observer
Is what
Is in us
Of us
With us
To see

The nature
Has newborns
As the freshest
Windows

Freshest views

For good
Bad
Ugly
Sad
Loving
Caring
Sharing
Stealing
Murdering
Killing
Itself
Every day
Every night
Keeping fight
The only reason
Such treason
Towards
Oneself

You built
These
Mountains

Im talking
To you

The one sitting
Behind
The readers eyes

You built this
Yourself
The rivers
The seas
The flowers
And trees

Everything

Dont cloud your mind
With self doubt

Keep it free
For better ideas
Beautiful ideas

Even if it means
Revealing
What you hide
Behind the door
Of your room

Let that idea
Be a sensation
Something tangible
Give it the same worth
You give
To your teeth
In the morning

Clean and rinse
Free from
The sour bacteria
Dont let it sit
And stink

Stagnance smells bad.

Fresh is always welcomed
With kisses.

The muse to be

She would
Smile
Like an angel
Going through
A greed-flu

As if she
Had understood
Seduction

The darkness
In her eyes
Like a shadow
Of her vibe
A lucid
Reflection
Of my own

She thought
Of being immortal
She thought
I had the power

She thought
My ink
Could
Make that miracle
Happen

As if
The whiteness
Of my sheet
Resembled
The peace
The treasure
Of the multicolored
Heaven

She said
She'd swore
On
The universe
Itself
That she saw
A rainbow
Behind my
Head

She'd move
In ways 
My eyes
Hesitate
And stop
To even
Blink

Like a ship
Caught up
In a stormy
Night
And now
Just waiting
To sink

Amidst these
Lies
Rainbows
Butterflies
My cigarette
Burnt
Untouched

I kissed her
Thighs
She kissed
My head
Our choices
Of drugs
Were different

For her
It was
The immortal
Peace in heaven
For me
It was her touch

Such fantasies
I say
Such fantasies.

Bachpan ka dibba

Bachpan ka dibba
Khol kar dekha
Toh mile hain sapne
Kuch aise anjaan

Wo bacha jisko
Tod kar pheka
Kisi kone mei chipa
Bolta hai

Koshish toh karte
Jeene ki...

Koshish toh karte jeene ki
Un sapno ko bhee peene
Ki

Jis shiddat se...

Jis shiddat se
Jaam uthaate ho
Iss bache
Ko yun daraate ho
Logon ki chid chid baarish mei
Mujhko aise bhigaate ho

Daraate ho
Chidaate ho
Naakaamiyon se
Sataate ho
Girte ho
Giraate ho
Mujhe hee jhootha bataate ho

Awaaz hun tere andar ki...

Awaaz hun tere andar ki
Fir bhee itna rulaate ho

Kaagaz par rang pheko zara
Has kar toh kabhi dekho zara
Nathkhat sa rass hai gudgudi mei
Gudgudana bhee ab seekho zara

Naam nahi iss duniya mei...

Naam nahi iss duniya mei
Kaam nahi iss duniya mei
Na naam hai
Na kaam hai
Nakaam nahi iss duniya mei

Khud ka tum ehsaas karo....

Khud ka tum ehsaas karo
Hone par vishwaas karo
Kal par hukum chalaate ho

Ya beet chuka
Ya aana hai
Har kal ne bhee chukaana hai

Hisaab jo rakhna bhool gaya...

Hisaab jo rakhna bhool gaya
Uss bache par zulm uthaate ho
Kyu itna rulaate ho

Wo bacha jisko
Tod kar pheka
Kisi kone mei chipa
Bolta hai

Koshish toh karte
Jeene ki
Aaj meri chitaah jalaate ho

Damn

Rivers meet
The ocean
Unaware
Of their start.

Their birth,
The glacier's
Worth
Isn't any less
A piece of art.

Its only when
They begin
To flow
They begin
To spread life
But would
They know
Their responsibilities
Or every little
Fight
They put up
With the rocks
And trees
On the way

Quarreling rapids
With sounds astray

Curving rocks
Into pebbles
Hills into levels
Freedom into rebels
When order repels them,
The 'damned' rivers.

Step one, two and three

The light
At the end
Of the tunnel
Is getting closer
Getting brighter
By the second

A new year
Has begun
But the birds
Seem to chirp
The same way

A child
Has just tasted
Mud for the
First time
Ask him
What gourmet is

A vibration
Carrying with it
Light
Has pushed the
Existence to
Become bigger
Than it was
As it was
A second ago

A mother
Has stopped outside
A toy shop
Looking at a toy
Her child wanted
And this time
She wants to
Surprise her

A vulture
Has spotted
A dead dear

An eye
Has seen
A glimpse of
God
A glimpse of
Me and a glimpse
Of you
A glimpse of nature
A glimpse of truth

A seed has just
Germinated

Weed has been
Terminated
They call it medicine
Now

Time has been
A lonely traveller
Being judged
For what it is
By others

But time itself
Is the water
To the seed
The hope
Of a child

The honey
From the bees
The rain
For the sad
Spring for the free
The step one, two and three

Birth life and death

The detached leaf
From the tree

Let us all assemble
Now
And begin to live
As one.

Poetry for free!

It just is - musings of a wanderer

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Malana

Its solitude has its own character. The people speak a different language. The laws are different. Its recently gotten a bit dirty so the hikers need to be careful of the wrappers. Its a hard walk but for a short distance from where the trek begins. The view is breathtaking and will consume all your stress. Ull get pitstops on the way up for refueling whatever you need. I mean it, whatever you need. And the you enter the village. The mystery in the eyes of the people is a by-product of their lifestyle. Its a pleasure to be here.

Self-fairness

A reflection of me
In a reflection of you
When jaundiced eye
Sees its truth
The anger in me
Becomes the faults
In you
Until we begin
To see through
The stored emotions
Good or bad
Make you nervous
Happy or sad
Make you go mad
At times
Going in circles
Growing in truth
Smoking joints
Growing fat too
Sitting through
Long conversations
With yourself
Of change
Of fresher starts
Like soggy
Lemon tarts

The pastry
Tastes contradictory
Lemon takes away
The lemony

Set yourself free,
And don't be diplomatic
About it.

Mirrors for the middlemen

In the face
Of music
In the light
Of the moment

I will show you
A reflection
Of your own

Half of it
Your image's
Projection
The other half
Will design
Your soul

Pride will pick
The best in you
Judgement will
Highlight the worst

Together,

It will be
Your 'whole'
But you
In all this

Will be somewhere
Behind
Your eye balls,

All three
Of them.

Kasol - a reunion with self

I've been travelling lately, and taking pictures around in kasol and chalaal. The places has dragged me to it for the 5th time now, but finally a solo trip. Ive been reading up khushwant singh and walking around the mountains for a bit. The grand beauty of himachal never fails to leave me in gratitude. I come here to relax my subconscious and my conscious. Meeting new people is always on the list. If you ever wish to see the northern side, this is the place to be. Cheap rooms, good food and good meditation spots. A lot of nationalities meet together. Malana is a trek away so your mood is taken care of naturally.

At once.

Kind gestures
Engrave
Enough impression
To regain
Silence
In times
Of dreadful
Sequence
Of situations

Continuously
Pecking at
Your mind

A reminder
Of sorts
To lots
And lots
Of vibrations
That slowly
Turn your
Raw mud,
With a seed
Of awareness,
Into a beautiful
Young and handsome
Pot
Which remains
A pot
Until it breaks
Much like our
Perception
Or our
Perception
much like it
When we
Meditate
And say
Hello to
Everything at once.

Freedom, a must.

Rip apart
The membrane
Right below
My skin
The layers
One can't see
Or touch,
But are
Felt within

And hold me
Naked
In your lap
And tell me
That i'm free
Free from
All beliefs
All theory
All perception
Free from
Doubt
And self-doubt
Free from
Self created
Sins
To begin with
And then from
All the crowd

And feed me
Bread
From the hills
So high above
That they touch
Heaven
If there is any

This is just poetry
And thoughts
And visions
That many
Wouldn't understand
But me

Hold on a second

This must mean
I am free.

The sacred space

Its within
This dark
Sacred space
I found my
Fears
Found my hate
This hollow
Marrow
In my chest
Next to
My heart
Getting late
Every second
Of this time
a moment's
Love
In my fate

Within this
Dark
And sacred
Space
I found
The light
And my
Way
Found my
Warmth
The part
That loves
I found
Trust
And a gate
A gate to enter
In a bliss
In laughter's
Own abyss
I found
Zero
Being lived
In a trance
In this space
This nothingness
Coming to
Patterns
To colors
To sex
To explosions
Rush
Adrenaline
Luck
Beauty
Art
And different tastes
In experiences
Of everyday

A lovely state
Of mindlessness.

Dark, Grey and Deep.

Dark waters
Running deep
Pacing up
Rushing
Gushing
Making noise
Telling stories
Telling lies
Moving constantly

The dark grey
Waters
Making way
Through my chest
With rocks
As sharp
As how she lied

Over mountains
Through the hills
The dark grey waters
Flowing
Roaring
Screaming out
The same stories
Same lies
They believed
Inside my chest
Beating
Feeling every
Movement
Of the stealth
Of the agony
Of choosing
Its course
Of being
Where it is
Not knowing
Where this
Will lead

One good thing
About all rivers
Regardless of
How notorious
They are
They mix
Into the ocean
But the ocean
Seems so
Far.

The sky colored kurta

The sky colored
Kurta
With printed patterns
The outlined
Almond shaped
Dark brown
Eyes
Her hair tied up
In a bun
Her sleek body
Her elegant vibe
Calling me
Over her table
Her pretty
Sleek and long
Fingers
Her smile
Of that of
A bird's first chirp
In the morning
Of a gloomy day
Her nose
Like that of
Morning dew
On grass
That felt
Neglected
Her skin
Like that of
First sun ray
In the house
Of the less fortunate
So special
Her everything
So special
This moment is
For in the next
I might not have her
But in this
We are connected still.

Shaping up

It was
The scent
Of her lotion
That reminded
Me of her
Heavy breathing
From that night
Of the sight
Of her hair falling
Down from the bed

While my hands
Held her thighs
And i could
Taste
Her wetness
Her sighs
Slurping
Sliding
Heating up

Sensitivity
Steaming up
From her
Spine to
Her eyes

Her eyes
Rolling up
She lay
Shaping up
Memories

Good memories.

Ticking

Once upon a time, a man had swallowed a time bomb. It ticked inside, loud and clear. He didn't plan on swallowing something so dangerous, he had already been in love before, and now this. The bomb was hidden inside a doughnut. What does a man do in front of a warm doughnut? No one even chews one anymore. 

His name was Adam; as cliched as it gets. His wasn't a soul that worried about what others thought about him. His was a soul of discovery. He discovered many things while sitting in one spot all the time. He never felt the need to really go and look for new things. He had realised that until you change from within, you are not really roaming around. He would sit and observe and wait for a revolution to happen within. Unfortunately he got what he wished for. 

"How long do you have?" his friend asked him. "How long do YOU have?" he asked his friend the same, feeling disgusted with the kind of question that was thrown at him. "Im just trying to help" his friend said in agony. How does one help in such cases anyway.

 "You are standing 30 feet away from me, how is this helping me?" he questioned.

 "Why the hell didnt you chew the fucking doughnut?" said his friend, sounding confused.

"I'm about to blow up here and THIS is not helping!

 "Well what about your wife? she'd need someone to take care of her right?"

 "Can't you say better things right now? what kind of a friend are you?"

 "you are right, I should be more loyal to you, and honest"

"What do you mean?"

"I slept with your wife"

"Really? I am about to die here!!"

"Which is why I thought you should know"

"How many times?"

"Umm... you'd rather die without knowing, how do you know its a time bomb anyway?"

"Well, its ticking inside me, SO I KNOW ITS A BOMB!"

Adam's wife came rushing to that one place where he always sat and where he had discovered his 'inner revolution' just now.

"Honey i think i dropped the dial of my watch while making doughnuts for you! I hope you figured!"

"It was your watch?" he exclaimed 

"Shit" his friend whispered to himself

"You swallowed it? How could you? Didn't you chew your doughnut?"

"Forget it"

Sailing rocks

Do we follow patterns (good or bad) or patterns follow us, is still a mystery. The decisions we make in our lives fulfil someone else's manifestation of their own dream and their actions fulfil ours. The roller coaster of fear, happiness, sadness, envy, excitement and all other emotions never stops within. At times we want it to just calm the fuck down, breathe, and just be; which is always followed up with something in contrast to it. Excitement, anger, depression, going crazy, falling in love, feeling hurt and so many other contrasts that there is no end. We naturally begin to defy the 'new'. It is important that the 'new' stays. Taking things for granted has different levels and the only ladder through which it goes up is our ego.

What if this reality is actually just a dream? An often asked question... what if the only reason we are alive is not yet to be understood? In meditation, surrendering ego is the first step. What happens after you lose your identity while still being awake? there is no body, there is no mind, there is no future or past. For that brief moment in time, you are nothing more than a rock in the middle of a desert and the rock is alive. In that silence, you realise that consciousness is not just limited to things that grow or that we consider to be alive. 

When a seed germinates, the only thing it has is potential. The body it acquires, the color, the texture, everything about it comes from the combination of the basic elements of life that our planet is made of. We can only be naive to think that what contributes to it being born isnt alive. Mona lisa isn't itself a person, it is an expression of someone else's creativity. We are an expression too. As we express our own emotions through different mediums like writing or art or dance, to a certain level it is for the audience; it is for the audience until we learn its language and are fluent in that particular language.

 This universe or multiverse whatever it is, expresses itself through colors which we could only see if we had eyes, the sounds, which we could only hear since we had ears, textures that we could touch, food we could taste knowledge that we could understand; everything makes us realise that we were born by it to it for it. We are a language being spoken, a poem being read, a river flowing, a candle burning, "it is all happening". You are the creation by the creation for the creation. Once we accept this, everything starts to make sense. 

Glowing

Glowing worms
Inside a ball

A ball made 

Of glass

With colors

Blue and green

Were there

To make it last

These worms 

Still lost

Inside the

Ball of glass

How did 

They get inside

What was 

Their past?

No one to help

And no one to guide

No future to seek

No past to hide

In this ball

Made of glass

These worms 

Growing fast

But whats 

The point?

 

Grow and then?

It finishes when?

What happens?

Who wins?

Always seeking wins.

The glowing worms

Trembling 

To the beats of

Time

To the nature 

Of slime

Being what they 

Can be

Seeing what they

Can see

Entering zen

One by one

 

Beginning to be

The ball of glass

Color after color

Blue after green

And after 

They have been

To their future

And past

The ball of glass

Becomes them

At last.