Crying child

Crying child



When I was a little boy

Not too little to not understand

Also not too big to let go

So, I was walking down the road to my friend’s house

And I saw a man beating a child

With belt in his hand and dread in his eyes


I saw people not reacting to it

They just walked by ignoring the crying child

As one walks in a garden with flowers in it

Inside my mind, I wanted to kill that man

But my hand didn’t move

Fear swallowed every inch of my mind


I stayed away from violence since then

Running away became the best option for me

That look in the eyes of that man was horrifying

I haven’t met or seen god

But I saw evil that day

And as I grew up I saw evil being worshipped


I am told today of what I should and shouldn’t do

I am judged for my work

I get maligned for the way I speak, the way I be

And my mind is forced to stay in a cage, a prototype

Every day I get beating from everywhere

There is no belt, no scars, just a crying child.




Have you ever met a disabled person?

How difficult must be living with a disability?


You chose to follow a pattern

A life which on the outline is happy

You do what you need to do


One day I met a friend

And he started sharing his plans

He had the whole shit figured out

His job and promotions

His travel plans and marriage

His kids and their schooling

And I just kept looking at him wondering


I thought to myself

What is beyond that?

Nobody talks about that

Or I am just hiding my laziness

And pretending to be too philosophical


But let me tell you

I am no different

I travel the same path as my friend

The only difference is that he is happy

And I am not

But maybe he is not happy

Who could tell?

Why do I complain so much and he doesn’t?


He asked me one day,

Have you ever met a disabled person?

How difficult must be living with a disability?

And he advised me

That I am lucky

I am able

I should be happy

I should succeed

As he was doing


When I go home everyday

And I look into the mirror

I try to go beyond myself

I try to look closer

And I laugh

I laugh hard at myself

And I ask myself,

Who isn’t disabled?







I sat with him for hours

And we discussed

As the sun immersed in the infinite ocean

The warm air turned cold

The rolled sleeves went down

And the stars came and sat in the eyes

And for some time I lost him

The wet sand below my feet

Witnessing my ignorance

But he kept talking

How do I tell him without hurting?

I just don’t want him anymore

Even the sky shouts from above

To be honest

At least to him

And I just wondered

A big wave stood up in the middle

And it came roaring towards us

We both were scared

And we looked at it

Eye to eye

He was actually looking down

And then something hit me

I walked

Not away

But towards that gigantic wave

The sky was crying in awe

He was dead

I looked at him

As I sat on the wave

And touched the sky.

a fake

a fake


Broken heart crying inside

But how would a heart cry?

It sure feels heavy


It is one of those days

When you feel really low

Your body is belligerent

But the mind has given up


There was this man

I admired him a lot

Always happy and cheerful

Every time he will be ecstatic


He made me envious

Until one day

I saw him in his solitude

Crying like a baby

Sitting in his garden



The clouds were gone now and the sun was bright

I was really happy

I should not have been that happy

But I was ecstatic

I was relieved

That man who looked always happy

Was a fake

A big lie

And I got a reason to stay depressed and sad again


Sometimes I wonder

How comforting is sadness?

How difficult is to look happy?


I left that man and never returned.  

New book…

New book…


Hello friends,

My new book titled ‘Voice of the Soul’ is now available on Amazon. Please Read and tell me what you think.



How does it feel to lie just by yourself and delve into the silence? The silence that is a path to a deeper self, a self that is unexplored. That same unexplored self can also be regarded as the soul. While the time ticks on the clock, a bond with your soul is timeless. Such metaphors are rendered powerless when a conversation is created with oneself. These poems mean more than just words, they scream soulfulness. It is rather weird that we go looking for answers outside when all that we have to do is seek deeper within ourselves. The poems are experiences that the poet shares with the world and these experiences are nothing fancy- they are all moments that the poet experiences with himself. They are questions risen from inquisitiveness and introspection.

Here is the link:

Buy now





The morning sunlight today was different

Yesterday’s night was different

Different were these last few days


The last few weeks were different

The last few months were different

Different was this whole year


Trying hard

Struggling to avoid change

And I am different every second.

The same old story…

The same old story…



It was a silent night. The time was around 2 AM. I closed the book I was reading and started writing a story. I wanted to write about crime, money, and corruption. I chose myself as the main protagonist and started thinking.

In the story, I am a poor guy who lives in a small shed in the slum area of Mumbai. I have no work, I beg on the streets for my daily bread. One day when I am standing on the street, I see a car stopping. Three men stepped outside. After a few minutes, another car stopped right behind the first one. A man stepped outside from it with a big suitcase. He gave that suitcase to one of the three men standing and then he left.

The three men started discussing something and soon they were shouting. One of them pulled out a gun and shot the other two. The suitcase fell down. The third man was about to run with the suitcase, but some police officers came from behind in their jeep. The man ran leaving the suitcase behind and the police followed him.

I took that suitcase and looked around. There was an old beggar sitting on the opposite side of the road. He was looking all this while, I realized. But he didn’t react. I ran away with the suitcase.

That suitcase was loaded with cash. I, later on, became a businessman with that money and earned a name for myself. It was a stroke of fate that changed my life. I wanted more money. I started blackmailing and extortion. I looted big politicians and businessmen. I abducted the children and asked for money in return. One day I went to the same street for exchanging money on which I found that suitcase.

The beggar was still sitting on the opposite side. He was a lot older now. But his eyes were still the same. I took my money and left. With time I became more powerful. I decided to form my own party and work for the country as a politician. With the power and money I had, it was not a difficult task. Soon, I had power, money, and fame, everything that I asked for I got. I started feeling like a god. People came to me in thousands asking for help.

But from the inside, I was at my weakest. I was not able to sleep at night.

It was 2:15 AM. Only this much I was able to think. I didn’t know how to end the story. It was the same old story. I thought about it for one hour more. I didn’t find anything interesting. I closed my laptop. I closed my eyes and the only thing I could think of was that man sitting on the opposite side of the street.





Two ways in front

No clue about either one

Sun is shining on both

Darkness will swallow both

On one I am tempted to walk

On the other, I might have to walk

Sitting at the junction

I am lost

Befuddled in mind

The heart is not in sink

There is no going back

What do I do?

To whom do I complain?

This is life

It gives you surprises

Rather shocks

When I embellished the fact

That life is simple

Life threw me into its complex texture

And I got entangled

Is there a panacea?

Well, it will take time

And you won’t die

What more do you need?

They say

They say


They say

Live life in every moment

Life is in the now

Why worry about tomorrow?

Why dwell in sorrows of today?

Life is in the now

Forget about your grief

Live moments in the brief

Cherish every breath

See life before death

They say

Be ecstatic

Be cheerful

I prefer being sad

I prefer not living for some time

I prefer being angry in some moments

Being ecstatic always is not my thing

I like to drown sometimes

I like to fall too

In the depths of a fall

I find life

I cherish the grief sometimes

In the hope

For a better tomorrow

Yes, tomorrow might not come

But I still hope

I find life in the hope

This, they don’t say.