I write & shoot (photographs) occasionally

Month: June, 2014


Do you remember

The 24th letter of the alphabet you learnt when you were 3 (X)

The multiplication sign you learnt when you were 7 (×) (it also looked like an inverted addition sign [+] to you then)

The Roman numeral for 10 you learnt when you were 12 (X)


Do you remember

The blush that invaded your cheeks

The first time you saw cross-backed straps (x) peeping through a girl’s shirt

After that you were never the same


Do you remember

That 17 August (X) on your calendar that you forgot

xxx- redemptions that were once worth the world

But each kiss bleeding ink feels more wrong than the next

People don’t write letters anymore, do they?

You were at a crossroads (X) when you were 16

But you’ve moved on since then


Do you remember

The wrong target you hit spot-on (X)

The major mistake (X) your teachers foretold in red

You left it behind when you were 18


And she’s still here

Because she told you not to hang X’s on the skeleton of kites

They will float but never fly free

xxx=30: she learnt this when you were 12

And she’s still waiting because you promised 30

A mistake waiting to be rectified



Let us go stargazing under the states 

That aren’t the actual colours the maps show

They paint a pastel universe 


With your finger 

You show me where we will go

Trace lines that mountains and streams can’t cross

We don’t see the roads and trains from here

There we will live 

It could be amid a desert or a storm

But we have never studied geography 

And the colours are beautiful 


Mark our imaginary paths with stars

We will decipher our own constellations with trust 


The math and physics in encounters

We are on opposite riding escalators that never find shores on still ground; you will go up and I will go down and we will just head where we’re going with no heed of opposite existences. At some time we will pass each other but that is all we will get- a glimpse, a diminutive figure and then a shadow. We will fade into sunless horizons knowing that our paths intersected at one point and extrapolated into positive and negative infinities as the unstoppable forces of fate and gravity pried us apart.


fingertips bleeding with rainbows of smudged highlighter ink

rubbing exhausted eyes, prying them open with the apparent weight of what our future lies upon 

we write with aching arms; scribble with desperation; scrawl with the last of energy inside our souls 

still the promise of a better life is not printed in black and white

the words swirl as our heads fall 


To be honest I don’t know if this is true. It is an equation that is becoming increasingly difficult to solve, like giving a college sum to a kindergartener; giving a ring to someone who has not yet found love. The lines are blurring, boundaries fading in the words we say, the casual conversations we spout, the human-made movies we watch.

I love him to bits: what does loving someone to bits involve? Loving every shred, every piece of a broken soul? A love so all-consuming that it overwhelms every living, breathing cell, fills every crevice with longing and desire? We speak of depth in passing comments.

And why not, I want to love someone so much that it breaks my heart to love him, not to have my heart broken by him, but to feel as surely as the current of blood through my veins that this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, the person whom I will hurt and will hurt me but the blood from our wounds will bind us stronger each time.

Talking about painkillers

Once upon a time you gave me a packet of pills, and told me with a smile that they were painkillers- once I swallowed them, the pain would go away. But who were you kidding, you knew that they wouldn’t fool me for a second, because they were just sweets. Sugar makes you happy, I once said baselessly as a passing comment, and that was the truth you chose to build upon. I peered at them through a clear plastic film. They were white, small and round, almost convincing. So I took them with a smile mirroring yours and said thanks.

Today I found them at the bottom of my cluttered drawer, deformed and inheriting a slight yellowish tint, in a pathetic melted and discoloured state under sunlight or perhaps a lack of it. I can’t just allocate them a shape now; they look more like cells than anything else. But then I thought if I crushed them, they would all look the same, as they once did. So I did.

With the back of my pencil I reduced the pills to powder; perhaps this was once what they looked like before they were compressed into tiny discs. Sugar, sugar, sugar; I wonder where you found these to begin with. I scattered them upon my cuts and scars like how one scatters salt over a wound; how one scatters ashes of a beloved into the sea- I felt no burn, but that was only because the pain was already numb.

Maybe that’s how painkillers never work, they build on hurt that is so intense the pain was long gone. They killed the pain, but it wasn’t their fault.


With tender fingertips you graze my cheek

Erasing the sunset he painted with pressure

You move the insurmountable layers of violet and blue and bloody reds

To the dark recesses of my mind where I cannot remember

Your presence will make him a ghost figure


I feel safe

In your embrace of beautiful words that never needed ink to justify

They will float in my head, a butterfly parade of ecstasy

With gentle assurances as sincere as the light in your eyes

I know now

His threadbare messages of honeyed ramblings were never words manufactured from his own mind

He has poisoned the palettes of word-artists so very in love, and what a waste of their creativity

The stars were always fragments of glass to him


I will love the pressed flowers you give me, in delicate preservation

Of a transparent afterlife in fragile co-existence

His bouquet of red roses is decaying in the trash


I will adore you in stolen pockets of time

Running, running

One thousand, two thousand, three thousand

And I will be gone

Like the trailing wisps of a dream that never made it to you


You wake in the evening and I’m slipping through your fingers already

Losing with every moment that pounds against the bloody sunset

I am the ghost of a smile and a sad memory that never existed in your mind’s eye-

You don’t believe in nightmares

One thousand, two thousand, three thousand

I am gone

Fireworks and flamboyance

Fireworks explode like suppressed pain in my chest

The cells are swimming in a garden of suffocation

They will burst in self-destruction and cut me to my knees as the sparks die out

Oh my, what a wonder

The flowers that bloom blood red in the night sky

But darling,

I don’t need that type of love

Inspired by tfios

We will dance, and we will dance on broken bones, hearts swelling with love 

We will kiss and it will be a flicker in the all-consuming darkness of chance

A flash of lightning in an improbable storm


We will laugh, drugged on the air in each other’s lungs 

The joy will be more painful but this is the type of pain we will learn to savour 


They will burn me when I die 

But the imprints of your touch will be branded in my ashes 

Burning me, burning me