My eyes are witness

My eyes are witness to a holy place where children are sitting with no clue of fate. Standing next to the flawless Ganga one mother is screaming for her lost kid, a man who thinks begging in the name of god is his prime duty and one who is wearing a tatter cloth with a single shoe in his beauty. I asked some kid where do they belong? said with a  grim smile “we scatter on earth for our livelihood, where we eat is our permanent roof”, some are unaware of our manmade alphabet, some are only aware of that place where they slept.

My eyes are witness to those in clover pandits, who says “Infatuation is all illusion”. One who is working day and night, sweating so far and worship at a time, got nothing more than a hopeless light. I asked the pandit about the point of sacrament, where tons of fruits are gifted to a statue and one is not getting a bite of food? He muttered that “mantra behind this gap, is all in God’s lap, the karma you did when last born is the logic behind this can of worms” all were coated in a saffron piece, only few were  committed with the actual service.

My eyes are witness to soulful lovers who never have love for their only mother. Spending date in a posh restaurant, promising of love goal but no rent, this is my girl is a loud shout, his happiness as her fate all girls allows. I asked a young couple what is commitment? They answered in a confident voice, “I wait for his calls day and night and I wish that her wait will never last a while, our relationship is a living example of our commitment and our togetherness is of our mutual terms and condition” valentine is near, celebrating the whole week, rarely remembering parent’s day and it’s zeal.

My eyes are witness to those gender contradictions which leaves one fall into the depth of estimation and left another with a prestigious creation. Comparing themselves in the global articulation, he talks of his muscles, logic and callous, her thought of  crux, inclination and diligence. I asked a professor what is genderism? He replied in a straight face, “maleism is when men cogitate their work in count  and feminism is where women are considered no less along, “ all those comparison are in virtuality, their existence is actually in parity.

My eyes are witness to those angry vultures who takes violence and abuse in their culture. Speaking in front of their mother and sister, victimizing other’s mother and sister, they think that’s the coolest thing. I asked one guy why these slangs are so effeminate? He replied in his carcase, “because females are like diamonds and it’s their privilege to let us broke their hymens” what a nasty world’s phase, even girls are talking the same slang calling it fair shake”.






The day we will meet

will be the day death embrace us.

The last of the last breathe

will make the heaven around,

Encroaching each other’s soul

like made for enlightenment.

They said set for ‘asset’

for the whole continent.

The coinage is cold to escape

our love in-between the cage,

Encouraging each other’s sacrifice

like made as assonance.

The minute was worthless

but seconds will be divine.

The often scars will turn

into the mark of loyalty,

encrypting each other’s infinity

like made for being monad.


“First snow fall of my life” she said with a soft smile. But his hand was warm enough to listen the truth.


I love you to the moon and back….

~(people shouting in joy on streets outsides)~

As the door knocked, she stopped her tears to cross the limits of her lower eye lashes. While sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly she burst out with laughter, inviting her friends inside with the same familiar slang. Instead of being annoyed, he joined her idea of pretending to be normal…

“come on get up! its snow outside” was their words. They pulled both of them out-of-door but she excused them for a minute and returned back to the room. Standing in front of mirror, her mind muttered “what a beautiful mess it is?”. She tightened her fist more tightly and let her tears cross the limit. She locked the door and went outside whooping out of delight where her friends were waiting. Since it was cold enough, they decided not to go outside on streets. But their high-strung overwhelmed their berserk side and they jumped off to the adjacent terrace under the open sky. Every single snowflakes that touched her skin was simply divine to her happiness. It was 11:30 at night and friends were having the highest of their togetherness. Dancing with the rhythm of affection and singing with everlasting chords, how beautiful it was for them to be an unforgettable memory….those dances and songs, snowfall and night was that permanent painting in their life, which even time can’t  change. That night blowed away the cobwebs.

Slowly, that footloose and fancy free turned into calm amity. They all sat together outside the room, talking and teasing each other. At an instant, in between the half of the whole spoken word, his eyes saw his soul mate…Anyone could see the purity of love in between the distance of their eyes… Those warm hands overlapped the cold one and the contact needed no words to describe what they wanted to say to each other…

They packed up next morning, hugged each other and said “good-bye! will meet you all in Auli next year” and finally left for their colleges.

One year later, they shared the same valentine trolls on their Facebook wall and hanged out with friends cheering up for being single. But at night, she remembered him with a smile and he remembered her smile…both closed their eyes peacefully.




Oh! you better run because all cities are mad: but the madness is gallant, all cities are beautiful; but beauty is grim. usual I was sitting on that circular stand with the only star above in the sky. Next to the MDI faculty building, there was my PG and on the terrace it was me, watching the whole city at a constant stare. It was like “Love At First Sight”. I could see many tall buildings which are not just buildings but are dreams for more than half of the migrants and I was one of them but with only difference that it ain’t just a dream but more than that…

Those were the only part of my days when I used to stop the flow of thoughts in my head and watch the whole city running continuously with no rest. At first, I doubted myself…What if i couldn’t run as fast?…then suddenly an airplane took off from the near-most airport over my head  and with a outsmile i was like ..Why can’t i?

I remember how I used to do up & down from gurgaon to Delhi four days in a week. I faced people around me with different motives and tastes.It wasn’t only the information board “sector 21   00:02” that became the part of my daily routine but also those culture and fashion within which I found myself one of them too. This is how even small metro trips can be so versatile. Overall, I can’t neglect the fact that the blow of wind ensconced me in the essence of reality of that number of street lights with those big billboards, while at the same pace, the beggars out of nearby temple entangled me into the concept of dependency and interlinks, thus taught  me how this city runs…every time that terrace reminds me the idea of making my own unwalked way. Now I wonder how that city under grey sky beloved my heart with light pink and I found that place so incredible….! : )