What we've cropped out.

What we've cropped out.

One cereal bowl for every floating breakfast
One stretch mark for every airbrushed peach
One pimple for everytime you woke up like this
One bucket & mug for every infinity pool.
One sofa snooze for every round of shots
One pooled commute for every flight airport check-in
One argument for each of the #couplegoals
One bad Monday for every promotion
One moment of self-doubt for every inspiring story
One forgotten friend for every request accepted
One bad memory for every good one re-posted
One bloated morning for every gym selfie
One skipped workout for every strava jog
One ghantaghar for every Eiffel tower
One time you woke up to 20 missed calls, for everytime the hills were calling you

One thing that was, for every one thing that actually wasn't.
One thing that's real, for everything that you posted.

What did you crop out of your picture today?

- H

Figs

As Sylvia counts the figs on the tree, the wind blows and waltzes her dress, 
Every fig represents a direction her life could now take, the possibilities were endless.

Every moment may be split into two paths, or maybe more who knows,
There may be several futures contained in each one, million paths die while the chosen one grows

What if I decide to not do what I am supposed to in the next moment, 
And pick the path who didn't feel he would be picked at all? 
What if I choose to surprise myself with my own brand of crazy, how bad could be the fall?

I could shut my laptop and not go to work tomorrow and maybe get on a train, 
Which takes me nowhere, where I switch off everything and let my thoughts remain

I could go out and hug everyone that passes by on the street, 
And force my present to make some memories, with ones I made empty promises to meet.

What if I decide to become an Olympian swimmer who puts fish to shame, 
Or riff harder than Clapton, or beat Pele at his beloved game.

What if I now decide that my life's aim now is to learn about birds, and not do a thing more. 
What if I want to cook for the rest of my days and stay away from silver's lure?

There are so many paths which each moment presents to us,
And yet we pick the one most dreaded and guzzle the cocktail of life with regret and fuss.

"Suck the marrow off the bones of life" said my Captain, before he left the world of trees and men. 
There are too many figs & futures on this tree in front of me Sylvia, and I'm going after ALL of them. 

"Let's Leave": Kiran to Aamir

The silly Aamir vs. Intolerance episode has taught us much, about how we're quick to believe whatever the Media feeds us, and how quickly we take to Facebook to pass judgement. It's difficult to imagine what a conversation between Kiran and Aamir would be like, after all that's escalated in the past week. Here's an attempt.

"Let's Leave": Kiran to Aamir

We've named him Azad, but what's in a name if he can't be truly free,
To raise his voice against dogma and the regime, so let's leave.

Let's leave if your words turn into fodder for shouting matches on prime-time TV,
The one who slaps you will be be richer by a lac, so let's leave.

Mere words uttered by that woman in saffron, classified us as 'Ramzaade' and 'Haraamzaade'
But, of course, what you said was more unpatriotic, so let's leave.

We are all tolerant without the right to have an opinion,
Because a few more percentage points of GDP growth are more important than a man's life who dared slay the holy cow.

As your effigies burn and you become another reason for social media mutineers to pick sides,
It'll be too late before we learn to uninstall bigotry before apps, so let's just leave.

I am Religion.

I am Akhlaq, lynched over meat preferences written in a ‘book’,
From up here, seeing you squabbling here all day, if only I could tell you how silly you all look.

I am Godhra, I sit here burning in the train that you set fire to,
As each inch of my flesh chars, a little humanity burns in you all too.

I am Delhi and it’s ’84, the tyre burning around my neck is eating me away,
My wife & daughters will become whores in years to come, but I guess we deserve to go this way.

I am Charlie Hebdo, shot with a sketch pen in hand and how,
I’m sitting next to the God you worship, guess who looks like a ‘cartoon’ now?

I am the abomination that you call religion, you can call me beefless, porkless, the holy janambhoomi or the holy mother,
I will just sit here and watch, till one day you all kill each other.

Poetry with Orsi Part I : Pain

I met Orsi at a nondescript cafe in Nice, France last year when I was backpacking through the Cote d'azur region as an exchange student. Instant connections established were grounded on a mutual love for art and strong coffee beans. The fact that she had probably seen more Indian movies than I did in the past year, helped. This Indophile Romanian-born girl decided to write some freestyle poetry with me on Facebook. One line by her and the next one by me a few minutes later. Here's the first:

What is it, to share a deep breath, a hidden tear cried inside our own darkness?
When half your face burns up, but the real flames are engulfed in your heart

Fear touches your soul, like an unseen shadow, haunting the secret corridors of your mind
When you are alone among a crowd of a thousand, and your inner voice is most unkind.

Alone as the breath of life that leaves you, alone as your whispers never heard, alone with your eyes open or closed, alone in a dream you fear to lose..
A dream you want to chase, but which is running away so fast that its the pain that you gladly choose.

Choose of will or just denial? Lost are the eyes that behold from within. The world outside is a dreamlike betrayal, we all loose, what is the use to win?
From the shackles of pain I want to rid myself, even if I spend years in purgatory for my sin

But is it a sin to be free like air and wanting to be pure like a flower not yet seen?
Or is it a sin to let the memories travel to lost lovers and places unseen?

Would it be weakness to let live a past untold, when the present is blurry and keen, on a picture so perfect kept in memories, flying on wings of a dream
Let me starve and bring out my bones so that the heart gets reduced to a vestige so cruel

Singing the lullaby of all its pains, the fire in that heart will burn so pure.. It will burn in the sky at night, in the rays of the morning sun, in the whispers of those who seek understanding, the sighs of those who's tears run..
There's a hand trying to grab, it could be hers or my own. But I can't touch it all I try and further spiral and plummet into this dark abyss

There's a voice, inside of you, oh wonderer.. Saying never let go. Close your etes on the world, and let the sounds of your soul guide you. Pain comes from a fearing heart, pain is our lack of what is due, step closer and face your fears, the light will shine inside of you
So let me hold your hand today. Because as far as I wander off into my own melancholy, I can always be brought back by your touch, your voice and your love.

Balance

One more step and it'll all be over
She's standing on the edge, many hours from being sober,
A thousand thoughts run through her weathered mind
She watches them pass, picking the ones most unkind.

She feels evaporating inhibition with a generous sprinkling of fear
With unbearable anger in every drop of her tear
To emotions of loving vengeance, her self plays host
'If I take this one step, it will hurt him the most.

I want him to burn in the fires of guilt till the end
Past pestilence, confession and any amend
What if this kills him too & he follows me to the beyond, I can't be sure
There's nobody I have ever loved more'

There's two of her fighting with each other for life & knife
The breezy night and reeky alcohol keep her in constant strife
'In either case we shall be consumed by our own decadence'
One foot on the ledge and one in the air, it's all now a question of "balance"

The City and the leaf

What it must be like to be a leaf
And bear witness to a train of laughs & grief,
To stay & weather the breeze in every branch and bone
Nobody else makes this city as much its own.

Is there a green as green as I
The leaf must think all day,
I was born in this city and will dry up here
While men make false claims to land, "mine" they say.

I have a hundred brothers and sisters every week,
But my mother's not social or debonair
When autumn comes, there are funerals galore
While one generation meets the soil of the city, one more takes birth right there.

I stand and see the hustle and the pandemonium
Every human's got a place to go
But I keep to my spot in the city, like a listless rock
Witnessing things you may never know

You might be the grand wind from the sea
But each time you touch me, I can't help but sway
Your strength leaves me shaken & tested sans pity
But you never look back and move further into the city