You see the festival around,
hear the jovial echoes go round,
rakhis tied with love and bound,
loved ones’ glee in every sound.

You roam around with a speck of yearning,
as if it is just another item of learning.
The room is silent, almost feels like mourning,
you just want to skip to the next morning.

Why are the festivals celebrated,
or why do we have to be anticipated,
when your loved ones feel so far and faded,
and love and belongingness stand isolated?

Maybe festivals were never about the lights,
the colours, the rituals, or the crowded nights.
Maybe they only remind us of what we hold dear
and when those we love are absent,
even celebration can feel strangely empty and unclear.

These incomplete things keep calling you back. They are always hopping around in your head, constantly echoing to be completed. These open loops rarely disappear from our minds. They run deep, and with every inch they seep down, they spread their roots into your turmoil. The road to completion seems perilous, with procrastination acting as the catalyst. You have the colours in front of you, the artwork under your chin, but your fingers want to pick only the digital colours of the screen. They want to tap them, arrange the mix-and-match of pixels, soothing your brain while quietly rotting your creativity.

But what does this incompleteness really ask for? Or are we simply letting it sojourn permanently? Have we made incompleteness a part of our lives and begun to make peace with it? Or has it arrested us and taken us hostage? Who holds the power, or rather, who is in power? The broken fragments yield a mercy plea, yet we still take another pill of incompleteness. This pattern is not confined to my tangible possessions; they merely mirror my intangible aspects as well.

The conundrum of actually talking to a person because we have lost touch for years. Is our relationship incomplete? Is our toned-down, faded ship the consequence of incomplete efforts? On whose end is the grey area darker? You will feel this humdrum in every possible tangent of a relationship. Incomplete boundaries leave you astray, incomplete efforts leave you doubtful, incomplete conversations leave you standing at crossroads, and eventually your relationship with humankind, in all its forms, leaves you incomplete in life.

How courageous it felt for me to challenge this incompleteness. I picked up a pen and paper to capture this idea. I picked up a keyboard and screen to type it. I attended a call amid all this, leaving this idea incomplete, and then hung up the call midway, incomplete, to return to this incomplete idea. How incomplete this idea still is, because I have much more to write, yet my peace lies in incompleteness, and it runs in my blood now. I wish to fight this autoimmune resident, yet the fight itself always remains incomplete.

Facing the dichotomy
Of existence and death
Pondering the question
Of linearity of time.

Want to learn all
But this trembling conscious
Want to ask you
Who am I ,who are you?
Where am I ,where are you?

How far shall i wheep
Who is alone and who is-
Strong enough to sleep.

Is this reality
Or making me think
To be alive
But seeking for god
Asking for mercy
For the penalties I never knew .

Why shouldn't I stand?
Why shouldn't I question?
Why shouldn't I search?
Why shouldn't I love?

To the entropy and uncertainties
Of the world
You are beautiful,
So am i.

Let's make it work ,
Even if it is out of cry!

I felt like an outcast,
As if I belong not to the human planet,
they changed their habits,
I worry how and why it happeded?

I greet, frown, and share expressions,
They looked away with no impression.
what's wrong! what's wrong?
I couldn't figure out.

I ponder upon it again, the horrors—
they left me aghast.
Satnding on the cliff, just listening—
to the waves go roar and loud.

You look pale, feels like you fainted,
It marks the new order,
A reminder that you are older.
The spectrum won't get any broader.

It's time to get yourself up,
Get a life and do all set up.
Guess what? What's new?
NOTHING! You just ran away again...

A gentle reminder to fix on seat,
They got no power, you are the storm,
You know highs, you know lows,
None will care, none will share.

Life's a web, that will strap you in,
Should I go and revolt?
Or screw my redundant bolt?
In look for solitude, I grew old...

A glimpse of the moon
trapped between the blocks,
and I think, soon,
of flocks that find their way home.
here I am-
Sodden eyes, peculiar thoughts,
battling the midnight ghosts.

Moon ransoms the clouds  
to cascade out of ennui,
and it reminds, often,
of feathers of an ave to the friend.
and I sit-
Hankering for a shoulder, to talk,
gossiping amid the lost.

Moon brights brighter than lights
to outshine what it truely holds,
and I percieve, distressly,
of the flame of the scintillating soul.
and I hear-
The crack of the beaten spirit,
yawping to stand upright.

We've been swimming together, hand in fin, me and you.

The waves crashing around us- doubts, flaws, all that rough stuff.

Hardships we face head-on, 'cause together we're tough enough.

Right in the pool's center, trust grows like a strong stem,

Whirlpooling every wave inside, pulling us close again.

No more getting tossed about; it holds us steady, see?

Turning chaos into calm, just you wait and feel.

Those green fish over there, on the other side? Our hidden sides,

The alter egos we tuck away so this love can ride.

We set them aside to make it work, to keep on moving free,

Side by side, through every tide, it's you and me.

Subscribe

Sitting across her, amid the scent of patisserie,
She speaks, and I admire that warm-faced tapestry,
The room itself hums with a sweet, enchanting chemistry,
Biscuits, Cookies and Donuts wrapped in quiet mystery.

The sway of her hair with those thoughtful tilted hmms,
Softly awakens feelings where my restless heart succumbs,
Her little quirks and scattered tales, the way her laughter comes,
Biscuits, Cookies and Donuts gathered in gentle crumbs.

I unravel in the ecstasy of every tender word,
She threads them into melodies too subtle to be heard,
I bow my head and thank the stars for this moment we’ve incurred,
Biscuits, Cookies and Donuts in happiness unstirred.

The cups run dry, the evening fades beyond the window's glow,
Yet some sweet things are meant to linger long after we go,
Her smile remains, a gentle light my heart will always know,
Biscuits, Cookies and Donuts dissolve in a memory warm and slow.

I was missing the point,
The start for the joint,
Workload was up,
So couldn't put up.

I love writing,
I miss scribbling,
But it's never too late,
All the words lay in bait.

It's good to be back again,
Immense gusto not to go in vain,
I'll sit up and write again,
Enjoy and aspire in chain.

It was a break,
I had a halt,
Life was woe,
I had a go.

I repelled,
I strived back,
Set my feet tight,
Overcame it daringly.

Joy of the heart,
Bliss in soul,
Comeback is better than setback,
I'm back from a sink.

In India, we walk through quotidian markets and see the shops named after someone.

• Ankit & Sons Jewellers

• Anamika Stationers

• Jyoti Traders

• Himanshu Law Firm

• Kunal Dyers and Drycleaners

• Vishwaas Nursing Home

• Laxman Property Dealers

• Sunita Snacks Point

• Rohan Medicos

• Puneeta Bookstores

The list goes on and on. Some start their business after the name of their spouse, some name them after their kid, either sibling or the parent’s name. How underrated this action is that we want the world to remember our loved one for generations to come. Love isn’t remembered in the Taj Mahal build in their remembrance but also in the firm that serves the earning bread’s name for the generations to come.

Beyond the grand monuments and marble inscriptions, these humble shop names carry a far more intimate kind of permanence. Every morning when the shutters roll up, a father’s affection for his daughter, a husband’s quiet devotion to his wife, or a son’s respect for his mother breathes again through the daily transactions of life. The aroma of fresh samosas at Sunita Snacks Point or the familiar ring of the billing machine at Puneeta Bookstores becomes more than just business — it becomes a gentle, living tribute that touches countless ordinary lives in ways no cold statue or the photo behind the frame ever could.

While some may debate that it is followed by traditional or spiritual practise which lay its roots in a particular religion; nevertheless, this practise is recurrent in India irrespective of the religion, tribal group, or the class. The list mentioned above is just an elucidation rather than being exhaustive. We will come across “Abdul Hotel” or “Gurpreet Lassi Wale” or “James Bakery”. All these have one deep foundation, that is, Love.

There is also a beautiful optimism hidden in this practice. By naming their enterprise after a loved one, these owners are not just honouring the past; they are quietly weaving their personal stories into the future. They are saying, without fanfare, that their love deserves to outlast them. In a fast-changing world where names fade quickly, these small businesses stand as stubborn little monuments of memory, resilience, and human connection, and the heartfelt artifacts that pass down from one generation to the next like precious heirlooms.

It is these unassuming names scattered across India’s streets that remind us of what truly matters. Love does not always need grandeur to be eternal. Sometimes, it is enough to be remembered every time someone buys a pack of biscuits, gets their clothes ironed, or enjoys an ice cream on a warm summer evening — wrapped gently in the name of someone who was deeply loved.

Twinkle Twinkle little star,
His wrinkles hid all his scars,
Ever other day he would shower chocolate bars,
We roamed the countryside in his car.

How I wonder what you are,
I still feel your presence from that far,
Your perfection I would stare,
Where are you? I seldom enquire.

Up above the world so high,
I often cry, remember and sigh,
Many a times I even try,
You’re gone forever feels a lie.

Like a diamond in the sky,
Can I connect to you over wi-fi?
Your grandson asks you why?
Can you be back homely by?

So before making an entry into the park, you need a ticket. And who buys ticket for you? — Your parents. Pragmatically, they did that for you, and you incarnated in this amusement park with snag and wryly. The whole world celebrates your arrival because analogically each ride operator has a new bloke to punter. Little by little we hop through the entrance and now we roam around without any navigation.

Roller Coaster 🎢

This is the quotidian ride for all of us. Even when the lights are out, this circadian thriller is always running. We elevate our day with scrumptious food, deep delve tasks, mediation, blessings and greetings, love and care, and the never-ending jolts of screeches around the mundane lifestyle. However, when you feel that you are at the zenith— the fall of the ride is what makes you literally scream with your hair falling apart, the saliva oozing out from the oral commissure, and the heart panting harder than the drummer’s sticks.

This is the thrill of the life. The rise and fall go hand in hand— one second you are exuberant and the other second there will be something execrable. And you see, it is the lifetime subscription and at every stage— toddler, teenager, young adult, or a geriatric. We ride, grind, and we face it with pride!

Bumper Cars 🚘

We all collide with fellow beings. The everyday story. Some comes with a lesson, some comes with a shock, some comes with a challenge. No matter how much we try to dodge away but the bumping is the necessary evil. The collision is often obnoxious. We try to move left or right or go forward; another unusual bump waits for us. It’s the spark that must keep us going and kill the drudgery.

Spinning Cups 🍵

Aren’t we stuck at a point often in our lives and the world around us is rushing at its own pace. We spiral around a problem or keep looping in a situation, stuck until it becomes a humdrum. We numb our brain trying to discern the fellow chaps. We wait for it to slow down, just what our brain needs as well— let the storm settle to see the things clearly.

Ferris Wheel 🎡

What goes around comes around.

This corroborates ironically with the life. It is an infinite loop, with variable velocity, challenging the gravity and yet falling back to where the roots started to go around. Our we really enjoying this ride? The question has no answer, but an introspection resides summoning to the vulnerable aspects.

However, it is indeed a great feeling watching the world from the top or watching the world to see you on the top. Well, the discussion perpetuates round and round reflecting on one’s outlook for life.

Circus 🎪

We head to our workplace only to be played by the master of ceremony for us to acrobat on his superlatives. There are copious other elements that we need to entertain to keep the buzz hyping. The attitude is important, but the show must go on. You will play with fire, you may fall, you’ll be ridiculed, you’ll be played on, but you must keep the energy high. Despite that, the show will be jaunty. You’ll be applauded and you’ll bring the house down. What a euphoria!! That’s what circus must play and that’s what my subscription is for!

As the day draws to a close and the lights of the amusement park begin to dim, we step off the last ride with tired bodies but wiser hearts. Ultimately, the greatest thrill of this amusement park is not the rides themselves, but the simple fact that we get to experience them at all. We laugh, we scream, we fall, we rise, we collide, and we keep coming back for more. Life’s subscription is lifelong, non-transferable, and beautifully unpredictable.

It's been long
Since we agreed on
To head apart.
But,
Whenever,

I scroll down my gallery,
Your pictures make me fall into a reverie.
I open my playlist,
The songs reverberate with the vibe we rationed.
The Snapchat memories blink,
The cliche snaps run down the lane.
I scramble my bookshelf,
The highlighted text withstands no significance.
The walk on my terrace,
Throbs the soft touch in between my fingers.
The affectionate quotes and posts,
Remains engraved in my Saved tab.
The whiff of the soil in rain,
Prompts me to sniff your hair.
My every night endeavours with a pillow,
Surges my adrenaline to grab you for a cuddle.

It's been long
Since we agreed on
To head apart.
However,
Memories...

And without perpending — I agreed to join!

It was now a 5-day trip, pondering and hopping from temple to temple, travelling miles singing the holy rhymes, discussing copious topics that surround the principles of the religion, and sharing the experiences of the pasts.

This was a completely new experience for me, and I would innumerate a few of them. You may or may not agree, as they purely hold my personal experiences, but they corroborate with many traveller’s tongues.

1. Communities do share customs and is built on communal believes.

Back in our school days, we used to study the subject of civics, and the definition of ‘community’ was supposed to be by hearted by the students. For many of us it was just a mere definition to score easy 2 even marks but I’ve always split the compound meaning of it. I realised that I was only able to communicate or agree to join them because we share the common faith, food habits— eating before sunset and no root vegetables, ideas, and common believe in the divine land. This whole idea sums up my essence to see the world how oddly we, as a human race, are separated but united these communal mutuals.

2. Truth and Reality is complex and always has multiple aspects.

Let me elucidate by mentioning the number ‘9’.

• It is the largest single digit number.

• It is the multiple of three.

• It is the number of months of pregnancy of a human lady.

• It is the former number of planets in our solar system.

• It is the number of Gems present in the court of emperor Akbar.

Pick any of the above statements, and you’ll infer that each of them stands true for the number ‘9’ authenticating that truth is multi-faced and reality own multiple aspects.

We were discussing certain topics, which held many different stories around them and had varied opinions, but they all stood true. Each of us welcomed all the new nuances that were given and it broadened by vision on the principle of ‘Anekantwaad’.

3. The barrier is inside your head— not outside.

How often do we just let go of chances and the opportunities by just positioning the odds against us. We do not calculate the positives— just the risks. Even I did the same. I started to ponder about my leaves, my bank balance and the bounty that will be placed on me if this group decides to abduct me. Nevertheless, I took the chance and kicked all these thoughts down the cliff. And it was worth the chance!
The real hindrance is your subconscious mind that plays a trick to hold you back in your zone only. It will not allow you to hustle or acclimatize into thinking something new. Let the chances be taken and because the spring blooms on the heritage of the summer— aromatic and beautiful amid the difficult tepid winds.

4. You are never supreme in anything. There is always someone better than you are out there.

The knowledge that we have around a certain a topic is just a facet of that. We might have explored and faced a problem and have crafted a solution for ourselves— giving us a belief that I’m the master of solving this situation. Nevertheless, there is somebody out there is who is already working with a better approach to it. And this is inevitable.

I used to be gratified that I know the best way to pack my stuff in a confined manner, but this one person out there gave a humdinger way of doing that. I, personally, was taken aback and back in my head I knew that it is always better to be curious than being content in your life.

5. Nobody is living a perfect life. Live in the moment.

Life elicits suffering from everyone. It took a hard time to not only realise this but also to coagulate within myself. During the initial conversation with the group, everything seemed so fascinating and jovial but as the days passed by and I started to converse with them more I got to know that one of them is in big debt, the other one has a slip disc which restricts him from doing all the heavy tasks in his 20s, and the other person has high voltage drama in his family 24x7.

I was not the sense of relief that- ‘Thank God! I am the not the only one suffering— but others too’. Rather it was a solemn realization of the fact that we all are living in a torturous arena where we are bombarded with the summons of hardships. We must put up ourselves, stronger, sturdy and unleash the hefty task of keeping yourself sane and smiling.

There are other nuances that my silly brain got exposed to and is not hallucinating on the aftermaths of them. Do share your experiences, if any, of your encounter with the stranger.

I took a step out fading away my pain,
Listening to the rhythm of falling rain,
Steadily my vibes were in gain,
In sooth I find peace in rain.

Legs make a move frantically,
Eyes look around hysterically,
This happened so magically,
In sooth I find peace in rain.

I vision myself of having a dance,
Indeed I won't even miss that chance,
Even I wish to have that glance,
In sooth I find peace in rain.

Fall for me like the dazzle,
Have a pouring to make me feel better,
It mesmerizes the thrill in a go,
In sooth I find peace in rain.

Share Whispers & Poems

I was back from school like every other usual day,
Drenched in sweat- I ran for water,
Trying to dodge everyone's sight.

Ma raced through the corridors at breakneck speed,
Landed in my silent abode with the balanced feed,
I shut my eyes abruptly…

Today, she witnessed the antipode,
She put the duvet on top of me,
Patting my rough hair slightly, she went away.

Promptly, my eyes were wide open again,
In broad daylight, I felt the burnout,
My thoughts were oblivion.

Paa drove me in a wringer,
I dealt with a tormentor,
When he coerced me to take off my pants.

I was intimidated after the act.
The horrors weren't subsiding,
Now the monster lives inside me.

I see the darkness in cold sighing.
Monsters love the darkness,
I realized that it was difficult.

It leads me to a fragile being,
I would have liked being accompanied by an elder,
As the Monsters didn't trouble the psychic elders.

I am an unknown poem,
Sometimes a limerick,
Sometimes sonnet.
I fill my verses layer by layer,
Indeed, I keep it fair and sincere.

It is filled with euphoria,
It is filled with furor,
It is filled with shivers,
It is filled with fire,
It is filled with ire.

Each stanza makes the words breed,
A timeless song for those who read.
With every line, my soul takes flight,
Through shadows, deep or blazing light.
My words, dancing in ardent streams,
A tapestry of charm and dreams.

I am the only keeper of my rhyme,
Hordes around me, burn in my prime,
Let’s hope that’s not a crime.

Writing in rhythm with all the zeal,
It's the best collection that makes me heal.

However, during that moment you couldn’t see it all because you were the one who was doing it. You could only see the other person, their response to your speech and their interest in you in that situation. You saw it with your own eyes from one angle only. You weren’t in a stadium set-up but rather a single stream of projection onto a person’s face.

There can be terms around this phenomenon in psychology and there might be even studies around them, but I wish to explore the fun part. It’s one of those fascinating glitches that shows how unreliable and creative human memory actually is. It acts a floating camera in the room at that point and then replays unbeknownst to us. Sometimes, it invokes the feeling of being a director all together.

Digging a rabbit hole deeper, I could also perceive that there are situations that drive this POV- first person eyes, and third person eyes. For instance, whenever you are witnessing yourself in a jubilant moment or an exhilarated situation, you are seeing it with the floating camera, i.e., you are the hero there then why not see it from all the angles. At the same time, you are in an embarrassing situation or mortifying your ground- you often see it with your own eyes, i.e., first person eyes because you don’t really want to witness yourself doing that.

As an illustration, you are having a nice, slow walk on the sand with your fingers entangled in another person’s, grooving on the rhythmic sea waves hitting the shore, sharing a wired earphone concomitantly which plays a retro romantic track- your heartbeat pacing and both of you stop with elation, turning towards each other slightly tilting your foreheads to touch and locking that moment with your lips. You will recall this with multiple floating cameras, even the drone shot, even from her POV and even from yours. It will combine all the perfect angles as if you just lived a perfect Romcom scene from a best-selling novel.

Whereas you are facing an ignominy by falling on the staircase of a metro station- you are trying to recollect yourself, standing up adjusting your viewpoint and rolling your eyes as if to make sure no one has seen you and stick to the guns. You’ll see all this with your own eyes. Your recall will fib the rotating cameras because you do not want anyone to see you in that situation, not even you yourself. It is a quip on your own prospective but that’s how the brain likes to cavort in the situations.

Remembering an event from a third-person perspective puts you in a more narrative frame of mind. It helps you contextualize your experience by bringing it in line with your prior beliefs and fitting it into a coherent story. The prospective is often biased, subjective and is completely driven in the manner we want it to be occurring. Undisputed, unprecedented and sometimes undetermined.

Just like we can recall and redirect the whole situation, we can train our brain to be the director at the first point itself. The Producers can take the place of the actions and emotions, the lights can take the place of the charge we have on this situation, and the crew members can take the place of the ethics that will drive these emotions and the actions.

If we can redefine the script and recreate the scene pertinently then why not take charge encumber them at the first place.

I would still love to play this merry game of witnessing the situations, revisiting- dancing gleefully from behind the bush, blabbering broken humor to my friends from the outside the window, hugging that person from the ceiling, hitting the ball for the goal from the audience, ascending the hill during the trek from the top, snuggling the dog from the top of the electricity pole, and being scolded my mom for scooping the cake batter with the fingers from my eyes!

I faced the prick of life-generating chemical needles,
A decade's worth of copious days.
I bore the pain with quiet resolve,
No other path to go that way.

Through months that stretched to eternity,
Nine months of ecstasy of life to give.
I brought forth not one, but two new souls,
A triumph my heart and kin would live.

Yet joy was fleeting, shadowed by grief,
An obnoxious verity tore my world apart.
They said, "Give one to the elder's care,"
A mother's heart screamed- how could I part?

I swedged, I wept, I screamed in vain,
I begged, I swore, I stood my ground.
But they were unswerving, their decision steadfast,
Why must my right to my child be bound?

My sacrifice was not asked,
There was a sheer outpower, rage.
I was denied of the cub I bore,
The motherhood might die, jumping off the shore.

The thunderous night,
Seems like vecna’s might,
Such an eerie sight,
I fear a sombre fight.

What’s up so fierce!
Rain pelting in top gear,
Atmosphere growls in all layers,
Goosebumps spiking the hair.

Ionising clouds moan voluptuary,
This weather hit the deck arbitrarily,
They snarl, they hurl furiously,
The nature gyrates savagely.

Standing in the balcony I rationalise,
How to describe this and categorise!
Amid the scorching heat it is, indeed, a paradise,
Let's just enjoy until the time flies.