I think of him 
I think mature. Selfless. Stoic. 
24 hour full power
something that helps him 
When I think of him, I think
so much love. So much care.
Makes me want to be better
Stronger. Happier. Lighter. 
Vast like the ocean 
so I can cradle him
be his lullaby, his cocoon
Help him be the butterfly 
he wants to be. 
Happy. Free. Light. 
I think of him. I think love. 
Love I never felt before. 
Selfless. Giving. Nurturing. 
Flowing endlessly and more. 


Could it be that we all
come with a limited amount of words?
Like the amount of breaths make up
how long we live?
I wonder if I've used them all,
the precious ones, or, is it that
each one is unique?
Much like every breath is life giving,
testament to a life one's living?
If they're not all unique, the words,
I hope I'm not done yet, with the ones
that are special, precious and deep.
I hope they're waiting to be explored
marking the iridescence they arise from,
the striking luminance that I'm hoping
I'm yet to see. 

Vipassana. Remixed.

It's 6 am. I'm up. Wide awake 
listening to Ryan Lewis' remix 
Vipassana. It's centering, 
at the same time leads my mind
to blow up. Tracing different 
possiblities. Possiblities of potential
explored, to be explored
all written up 
in my tiny scrawl 
in an ever growing bundle
of journals, pages filled 
filled with things I see, find interesting
or stuff that just effect my life.
Vipassana. Talking to myself.
Notes to a future self, happy, excited
musing, many a times lost
doodled, repetitive, random rants
plans, lists, so much more.
All in ink. I love ink, black or blue.
There was a time
I was a couple of moves away
From being dead. 
Now I'm
A student of the breath.
Reflecting on what matters. 
I was put here to do something. 
Take out all the ugly shit inside
And try to make it something beautiful.
I'm getting stronger. 
Vipassana is a science of mind and matter.
This is my version 
Putting it all into recording
Blessed to share my story.


Kisi ko pyaar dede
Kisi ka pyaar lele 
Is saare zamane mein yehi pyaari baat hai

There's a ring to her voice 
matching what's playing on my mind
It is very simple:
I am floating. In a trance. Our RoutinE. 
Simple yet profound. Completes me. 
A smile, a cap to all my fears, an excitement
to face all our tomorrows, together
I sleep well at night, the little joys of life
You bring them to me with you

It is as simple as breathing easy
As simple as a deep slumber
As simple as smiling for nothing
As simple as having faith
Yehi pyaari baat hai
It begins with you. 



I read, and read again
to realise I don't remember 
don't remember what made
made me write them lines
them lines, thoughts, stories 
I share, sparing key details
there surely was a backstory..

there's once I talk about a calm
and once a voilin makes it way
into what is here and there 
in my lines, they bind what I mean
soundly, then, now, I wonder
where and how they flew in

this isn't the case every time, though
there are beautiful compositons
needled with one thread 
one thread of thought weaving
multiple weaves, weaving thick and thin

anyhow, this takes me back
I read, and read again
to realise I don't remember
don't remember what made
made me write them lines
a few lines, thoughts and stories
I shared, recently, which
I am sure have a backstory...

Is she free?

being free
free of worries
I wonder what it takes
to be free
is it, not having anything to lose?
or, is it, being very aware
of one's attachments?
aware in the sense 
of being selfless
selfless in such a way
that nothing binds
in a way that one is a conduit
through which memories pass
being free
free of worries
I wonder
if one can really be
really be, when 
one is attached 
very attached 
to an idea of she

or, is it a freedom
that fades with knowing
a knowing that spreads around
is it lost the moment it is found?
is being in a bubble free-ing?
what is this paradox of binding
that frees all worries 
worries that has one bound?

free vs bound, nah
not as simple as it sounds
it is a mind maze for sure
and lo, the 2 o'clock bell resounds!

Of drugs and the like

Where is the independence of the mind? 
Stoicism. That's what people sought 
years ago. I wonder why and how
it has lost all faith, today,
in itself. In staying strong. 
In fighting off, the quick sand of thoughts
Too much consumption. Too much self. 
Too much stress on who one is. 
Traditional thought was we together.
Simple. Subtle. Strong. 
Or is it a history of winners? 
Saying they fought all?
Where is the independence of the mind?
I hope it surfaces and isn't lost. 

In Parts/Together = One Story.

Deep, pained
At the same time 
Very calming
More like the dawn 
Of a new meaning
Weighing down on it
Making it serious
Nearing a finality, a full stop 
A music peice on violin.

Pale blue, sleeves rolled up
Sitting gorgeously 
On his broad chiseled chest
Complimenting his fair skin
His warm smile
The white of his perfect teeth
Everything tied well
By the twinkle in his deep
Deep brown eyes
The only man in her life.

A calm, a contentment
Now returned 
After a short absence
In breathing
In thoughts
No matter what lays ahead
The knowing
A knowing all one needs
A calm gently reminding 
Of the who and the where 
One is 
She, who is happy in her heart.

All parts of one story.  
Whole in themselves.
Tied by promise. 

A People Timeline

I've been going over
all the people, I've known
closely, from a distance
bonded with or had differences
each person a thread 
in the rope of my consciousness
my social consciousness
stretched tight, colourful
wearing off at places
strong at some
at times strength replaced
over something too weak 
whereas, some wears and tears
leave Shuls of what was -
sweet memories, bitter thoughts
all making up the rope
I use to guide myself forward
an organism of a timeline
of my social life

No complains

Count your blessings they say
There's value to the saying
What's ahead is ahead of us
There's no challenging it today
Whatever is today, lighter or heavier
Is today and now

Count your blessings they say
I did. 
I have no complains.