xor eax, eax

Change the world or go home !!

To you…


There are memories I have, which are vague and fleeting. They cut me as much as they sew the emotions in. I live in nostalgia of what could have never existed. I failed to register it in the same light though. My memories don’t inhabit the same thoughts as yours. Its an unimaginable feeling. Perhaps I have fallen in love and I know no language to express it well. I am dumbfounded. I am numb. Once upon a time, I had so many things to say. Now I have nothing to say to you. Just like you have nothing to say to me. Yet I want to say some things but words are a foreign entity to me, and stories I weave are certainly not defaulting to what we used to talk about and the way we used to.

Call it anxiety or despair. Call it love or things far from love. Call it whatever. It is as intriguing and as disturbing at the same time. Blurry thoughts. Deep brreaths. Light. Darkness. All prevail. It is like there are some aspects of light from the window, that I do not really understand. And not understanding it, well, haunts me.

Quiet often I choose to take a long walk or a nap under the trees or a drive by the fast lanes in the company of incongruous silence. Still it stays. I have been reduced to a thing that only thinks about you; and do so in the quiet human desperate way. Last night I could not sleep till four in the morning. It is absurd the way I love you.

Work is busy and demanding and I am crammed up with ideas all day, yet I cannot seem to dislodge the visions of the way you would smile at me sometimes. It tumbles and violates all the necessary, makes way for itself fairly arrogantly and stays there as if it is its own territory, as if you have a claim. Then everyday, seamlessly, in many countless ways, I convince myself of ourselves and then sack the idea into the pit. Why cant we pack all of this and tame it into some kind of happiness we can together live? It is odd. This stubborn independence we all subscribe to. It strips us of love and leaves everything futile, mundane and inadequate. My wall is down; guards low and it is crazy that now, I don’t  even resent it.

Words here are shrieking in pain, yet I do not intend to share any of it with you. No more. Nothing more.



Apne Maazi Ke Tasawwur Se Hiraasaan Hoon Main
Apne Guzre Hue Ayyam Se Nafrat Hai Mujhe
Apni Bekaar Tamannaon Pe Sharmindaa Hoon Main
Apni Besud Ummidon Pe Nidaamat Hai Mujhe

Mere Maazi Ko Andhere Mein Dabaa Rahne Do
Mera Maazi Meri Zillat Ke Siwa Kuchh Bhi Nahin
Meri Ummidon Ka Haasil Meri Kaawish Ka Sila
Ek Benaam Aziyat Ke Siwa Kuchh Bhi Nahin

Kitni Bekaar Ummidon Ka Sahaaraa Lekar
Main Ne Aiwaan Sajaaye They Kisi Ki Khaatir
Kitni Be-Rabt Tamannaaon Ke Mabham Khaake
Apane Khwaabon Mein Basaaye The Kisi Ki Khaatir

Mujhse Ab Meri Mohabbat Ke Fasaane Na Poochho
Mujhko Kahne Do Ke Main Ne Unhen Chaahaa Hi Nahin
Aur Wo Mast Nigaahen Jo Mujhe Bhool Gayeen
Main Ne Un Mast Nigaahon Ko Saraahaa Hi Nahin

Mujhko Kahne Do Ki Main Aaj Bhi Ji Saktaa Hoon
Ishq Naakaam Sahi Zindagi Naakaam Nahin
Unko Apnaane Ki Khwaahish Unhen Paane Ki Talab
Shauq Bekaar Sahi Sai-Gham Anjaam Nahin

Wahi Gesoo Wahi Nazar Wahi Aarid Wahi Jism
Main Jo Chaahoon Ki Mujhe Aur Bhi Mil Sakte Hain
Wo Kanwal Jinko Kabhi Unke Liye Khilna Tha
Unki Nazron Se Bahut Door Bhi Khil Sakate Hain

– Sahir Ludhiyanvi

I usually do not read poetry but I am blessed with people around me who introduce me to wonderful pieces of literature; beautiful compositions of art; exquisite expressions of self. Neha Rathi, recited this poetry to me last night and it struck chords somewhere; making a distinct mark of its own.

Thank you for sharing this Neha :) She is a prolific writer and blogs at Only fools rush in.

why count it?


On my birthday, one of my very good friends, Cheistha, shared a quote by CS Lewis with me in an audio message. It made a lot of sense. It said -

“Friendship itself has no survival value, rather it is something that gives value to survival”

- CS Lewis

And in addition to that I believe, we as humans are nothing but stories and experiences. Why confine it?

Yet, we hook on to our friends and want them to hook on to us like parasites in a symbiotic relationship. Friendship is not a contract. Neither an investment. It is just a happy zone that we associate to and term it friendship.

I do not really agree that you will and can have only 2 or 3 friends in your entire lifetime. If you are human enough you will connect and touch many in your lifetime from different circles around you. I agree not all of them who are friendly are your friends, but you ll still have so many to share with. Let the circles intersect; and be honest, than being scared of your vulnerabilities and oddities in life. Life is much simpler if you just be.

Friendship is about acceptance. By categorizing it in a quantity of 2 versus many, profiling it for this versus that, will only spoil it.

I have many friends from different circles of my life and I am happy that I do. Everybody cant be there for everything that happens around you but some will always be there and it is a happy zone to be in.

Have as many as you want. Deal with as few as you want. Neither of the two choices is good or bad.

Running after truth




Truth is belief. Truth is reason. Truth is passion. To be truthful, to me,  is also to be moral. Truth is intent. Truth is outcome. Truth is death; the harshest one. It is also life. I believe it should lead me to peace. That is how I see it or want to see it.

Truth is understanding why are we here. Does it make any difference? Our actions? Or may be only some action by some stalwart in his time matters. So does this mean the rest of us are living life like insects? To say that is such a wrong thing. Do insects play no role? Or is that our role is similar to those insects i.e., in completing some sort of a cycle? Seeking truth is about answering so many simple questions that have not so simple answers. Truth is a quest.

Truth of a Teenager

For three decades or so, I have been around observing, trying to get hold of the flawsophies in understanding the real meaning of life, of why and how and what. The first decade of my life was perhaps the best. After that I started indulging in a paranormal activity called thinking – one of the bigger blunders I have sketched so far. Why is that you ask. Hmm… I think for that you will need to know the nature of my indulgence with the world around and perhaps my own the realm of thoughts. In fact there are so many aspects of my existence, that I really do not understand them all. Whenever I tread that path of pursuit and speak to my fellow peers and friends, I come back empty handed. And with every such attempt my belief in Darwin’s theory stands reinforced, getting convinced that we have descended from apes.  But let’s focus on trying to uncover the essence of truth.

As a kid, I have lived a life of blissful ignorance. I have lived in the times of Chacha Chaudhary and Saboo. I have lived to believe that He-Man was one of the masters of the universe. However funny it may sound to you, I would scathe the fields with a stick and shout in all the glory – “I have the power”.

Somewhere, I actually felt that I had the power. I would rescue all the butterflies, when kids from the block would ran around trying to capture them. I felt heroic. It was like saving the world from the harsh, cruel truths. That thought, perhaps, was my first tryst with truth. Since then it has been a journey of sorts.

I believed in some things so dearly and fiercely that they held the status of the absolute truth that could ever exist, if it exists that is. To share with you a long kept secret, I believed I could fly. Not like a bird would fly, but I believed while jumping I could punch air underneath my feet and take off even higher. The jig was this – I would jump off the ground and paddle in the air to go higher. And then I would come down. The next time I would go even higher. These mini-flight were a treat of the awesomeness that I had access to. I would smile and, again, slash the air with the stick in my hand and exclaim - ”I have the Power!!!”

And then it stopped. I grew up.

Growing Up

I was not under the cognitive overload poor kids these days have to face. I had access to many comics and scriptures that induced fascination to do things beyond one’s reach, to save the world and feel proud. One such book was ”Jatak Kathayein” that had Buddhist stories, each with a moral. They inspired enough to make me fan of Gautama Buddha.

I didn’t quite understand him then but I knew there was something common between us. Something that really connected us. It was his pursuit of truth. When this hit me, I was so motivated to pursue truth further that I seriously wanted to leave my home, everything and go. Sadly I was never able to do so, else I would be an enlightened soul today.

Talking of enlightenment, I think I was afraid of the dark. It freaked me out to the brim of crazy. We have frequent power cuts in the small towns, which facilitated many encounters between darkness and me. These encounters became my moments of introspection, faith and belief.

For clear differentiation between truth and untruth, right and wrong, just and unjust, I would try all sorts of methods to meditate and become the enlightened soul I had always read about – the know-it-all kinds; but not like a babajee of course. I also wanted to have the love of my life with me, around me. I wanted to love her to the best I can; write poetries, sing songs, dance, make merry, and I would not leave her like Siddhartha did. Not at all, if she was as pretty and intelligent as Yashodhara was described in those books. Sane. Pretty. And at the same time a very dedicated partner.

I have had this strong urge to set out and explore the course of life like a river, to not be contained but be out there. While I do not want to sound any smarty pant, I realized that my peers – my friends at school and my sisters, were not like me. I was different. I do not know how. I felt I was in the crowd but aloof. I did enjoy company, but there was a sense of solitude that I enjoyed more. How did it compare? Perhaps that’s a question I’m still negotiating. I find in me a recluse who would enjoy sitting on a rock on top of a mountain and feel the joy of having achieved the climb. Maybe I don’t fit. I find myself socially awkward and I have mixed feelings about that.

It is not that I don’t long for a friend with whom I could share without inhibitions. It is also not that I don’t long for companionship. I do. Just like anybody. I hate the void. I long to hold hands and feel assured. Or feel secure and loved in a hug. I crave for that. But I would never initiate it. I would rarely ask for it when needed. Instead, I while away. I drift. I think this is also because my parents, though loving, have been very firm and inexpressive. They have taught me not to rely too much on others and do things by myself, to be by myself. I love them, and so do they, yet rarely do we hug. It takes such an effort. Really. Sounds crazy? Well that’s how it has been.

Anyway, getting back to story of truth, now you know how similar my life then was to that of Siddhartha; except that I didn’t have a loving wife, a kingdom to rule but we shared the same notions to run after truth, to seek answers. I used to think about it and discard the thought of abandoning home, mulling - “I am barely 12. Siddharth left home when he was 29″. Now, I realize that he was more decisive than I am or ever will be.

The Spider Bite

Every now and then, I would see the futility and worthlessness of my existence and try to ascertain whether or not I’ll make a dent in this universe. In fact there were so many ways that I could sneak in and punch the whole strata that I started exploring, and the more time I spent exploring, the more I realized how insufficient my experience was. I had taken a plunge and it was a fall. I needed the right terminal velocity or I would drown in the history or perhaps in my own unfinished dreams. I needed the right pull before I could catapult my ideas in search of truth. I think it started, when I was 7. It was then when I was first introduced to Spidey. Yes. Our very own Spiderman from the friendly neighbourhood.

Now Spidey, I found, was an interesting character. He had similar notions of pursuance. Yes, I am talking about the truth. The urge to go beyond what is in your reach and help the world in better ways.

As Spiderman, he would beat the bad guys; jump off buildings; weave his own truth; wear his own lie yet be loved by all. As Peter he was good at studies; he was respected by girls; he helped the needy and did all this as a common man. So he was master of both his universes, not just one. To top it all, he didn’t have to leave Mary Jane. He knew exactly when to switch roles. Sadly later in the story I realized, that like Yashodhara’s case, he had to distance himself from MJ. This became a point of my concern. A serious one. Both these fair ladies were very committed to their heroes, still had to live a life of lonesomeness. This truth was a little scary. What is truth if it is not shared? No better than a lie. I thought about it. Why is it that no one who pursues it so fiercely gets to live with his companion? I was finding more and more such stories, yet my craving hadn’t died. The saddest part being that most of the time, the hero opts out of the relationship, despite loving their beloved so dearly. Another hero of truth, I recently found was Mahatma Gandhi. His story is similar, but let’s not go there. This post is more about my truths than his.

Through the early years of the second decade of my life, I hoped that I would someday leave all behind and go in search of truth. At times I would secretly wish that a spider would bite me and I would morph into some kind of a super hero. Sadly, none of them happened. Perchance the mosquitoes did try, but nothing substantial came out of that.

I was still a popular kid. The females would love to have me around, so much that my guy friends would get jealous and pass comments.  I guess it was I who kept these girls at a safe distance. You see, I wouldn’t mind female spiders but I guess they didn’t fancy biting me. The only way to tackle this was by engulfing myself in the inky darkness, relentlessly slaughtering all the other thoughts. It was like I was under the spell of truth. Then I was stripped off that too, by deception.  Deceptions question your illusion of validity in the frames of reality in the bigger context. Truth is then judged and measured on the scale of happiness.

Peace, Satisfaction, Happiness

To ideate deeply, there are some encounters in each of our lives that invite us to pause and think about our lives. I realised while this pursuit was an honorary and cherished one in my life, it was slowly losing its charm. So far I hadn’t understood that satisfaction and happiness are two different things and absorption in a task or a routine or a drive cannot always give you both. I originally linked truth with peace, peace with satisfaction, and satisfaction with happiness. This was changing.

So what is it that I should aspire for now if not truth? What was happening to me was no less than any hysteria. I could see there were more side effects to it. I was becoming too serious, too rational, too giving and all of that was not easy. I had my own suffering. I was beginning to understand that perhaps “no drive” is also a “drive”. I also understood that circumstances that we can’t choose and the structures in life that we choose have less to do with satisfaction or happiness or peace. All of this is largely determined by temperament. It is rarely an after effect of truth. So what is the rhyme and refrain here? It is logical to view life as series of moments; each with a value; each episode with a truth of its own; connected with the intent more than outcome. The rhyme is the understanding in repetition. The refrain is questioning your very own understanding. Well that is debatable I know. And I am still hooked.

Truth Can Seduce You

While writing whatever was coming to mind, I was wondering what exactly this post is about. What is this “essence of truth” I have been talking about? Yet again, not an easy one to answer.

So I asked some questions. Simple questions seeking simple answers. These seemingly simple questions led to more questions, rarely offering answers, that too in bits and pieces.

“What is truth?” – I asked myself.

Truth is something that conforms to reality, is factual, is derived out of consensus; has a logical conclusion. Yet we know that truth, sometimes, is only true in a context. I am talking about relativism.

Questions that now propped up were:What is real? What is factual? Is it not very dependent on individual perception? Can it always be proved by some logic? Even in relativism all points are valid, and with such a premise truth may not be true out of the premise and it so turns out that it is contradictory. Can truth be self-contradictory? Doesn’t relativism defy the very nature of truth itself?

What I exactly wanted to do was define it but it seemed impossible. So if it can’t be defined, does it really exist? Some say such a truth can only exist in faith. Is it? I doubt.Truth is, maybe I am here for a reason.  Or maybe truth is that there is no such reason at all. I am just blabbering. The idea of truth has seduced me for long. What came out was no less than a gaping void. In the age when boys run after girls I ran after truth.

To think of it, whatever the truth is, unless it encounters more realms than yours it is no better than a lie and it is meaningless in essence, even if it holds good. And what good is such realization that makes no difference to you or the world around? Every truth needs a meaning. Buddha found it in sharing with people, telling them what is right, leading them away from the “ladna marna” on the path of ahimsa. Spidey found it as the exact opposite. He understood he needs a mask and people would not understand his truth. They would get irritated as to why he is endowed more than a normal human.

While truth does not lead us to chaos or a safe bay, it is just the temperament that changes in how we lead our lives. For example, if you marry a person it doesn’t mean he is a chest of happiness (or sorrows, for that matter) in your life. It is his temperament (and yours), more importantly, which is deterministic in actual situations.. Truth is independent of it. It does not make a dent. Temperament does. Massively.
With that in mind, truth to me, is about a belief that I would want to carry all my life. Truth is supernatural and perhaps the greatest kept secret as well. Truth is political at times and also free from all reasons. Truth is passion. There are so many layers to it. I cannot define it as one clear emotion, or as one clear definition. It is an amalgamation of sorts.  Go ask the same question to people out there and you’ll get different answers each time. That’s what truth is. It is everybody’s perception. What is yours?

Do you have something to offer? Then sprinkle me some truth. I am game.

Life happens.


Saumya is one of the most versatile, wonder-friendly word-wizard I have ever met; she is equipped with talent and joy in abundance. She can knit people as well as words equally beautifully and soulfully. This post is in response to her post at http://www.nascentemissions.com/2013/12/and-then.html which she scribbled during her exam. Yes during her exam. Beat that!


The letters
laid in conundrums
as your words
scatter worlds
on sublime
pillars of emotions.

Dreams surface
from curbed desires;
a poetry emerges
from chrysalis..

The folds
a colorful
that flutters;
then flies
into the
whims and fancies
of what we call -



Here is my post in the Octpowrimo marathon. This is in response to Sonalika’s post

Let not
each word you write
be chiselled and carved
with Occam’s razor.
Piercing hearts
is also a doctor’s game.
While he cleans the dark,
swindles life;
She with her blades of gazes,
amongst the war of emotions,
makes it worth the life
his quill always seeked.

Added after edit

I wasn’t aware that Octpowrimo works on prompts and Nimue links me whenever I write. I just saw the prompt was on sounds and I got reminded of this older poem that talks about sounds in rain. I dedicate this to Octpowrimo. Please bear with me.

I was caught up somewhere in the rain today, then I took a shelter under a tin roof of a small shop. It was then that I noticed the sound of raindrops.. playing like an orchestra .. a different sweet music of its own.. tippy tapping …very random.. yet very musical.. At first it was grrrr feeling .. then it went greener .. full of varied emotions .. mixed feelings…tense, excited, sad, euphoric, pleasing strangely… this poem is the grrr to green in my life.. its about the desire .. which is desired .. denied .. achieved .. quenched .. resulting wrinkles … tensions around and then it dies .. In the following lines, I have tried to capture what I went through in the lovely evening.

Here it goes.


Shoulders clutched,
Shrieking pain
Tattering leaves
Crying for Rain

Darkened doorway
Lightening scrawled
Grippling, thundering
Child’s appal

Spasmodic, tumbling
Roaring and silent,
Heavy, moisturous
Pleasing and violent

Timpani, chatter, clatter
Rap, tap, rattatat
Staccato drumming
Rhythm of the rain
Sipping away all the pain

Furious, noisy
Dark and grey
Settling equations
With sun’s fray

Revenge, cries or snare
God’s anger or despair
Eternal bliss or divine chant
Raingod arrows every flair

Drops fall,
Wrinkle the sea
Purge, diminish,
Then die utterly

Thirsty leaves
Drink it all
Drop by drop
Until the rain stops

PACH Comic Strip 5


PACH 8 Doodle

Kuch nam aankhen
Andheron k gumnaam saayon me bhi
Zulfon me chhip
Apna ghar basaya karte hain..

Kuch muchde khayal
Hatheliyon ki zubaa
Dastak dete huye
Khamosh tanha raaton me
Aankhon se sair
Ko nikal padte hai..

Kuch sooni imaaratein
Badalon me bas
Dil ke gubbaron
Aur gubaron
Ki adhooori guzri
sunaya karte hain..

Pach ka aathvaan adhyaay
Kaiyon ko rula gaya
Aarzuon ki shor me dabi
Ishq-au-aashiqui ki daastaanon se humein
Yon mukhtalif kara gaya.

Ships at Bay


Ships and Clouds


kuch showk humein hai khone ka.. kuch aas adhoori paane ki
ye naav kinara na dhoondhe… patwaar bhayi anjane ki

kuch saakh stabh se dhabbe hain.. ik gumshudgi armaano ki
pal dhadhak raha qatra qatra.. tumko paakar kho jaane ki

Octpowrimo Prompt 1


Here is a dark one to start with. As darkness needs to quench light and so it shall be! Here is to “rising after the fall.”

This poem was in response to Nimue’s post

He consulted the skies
In brazen woods
With measured strokes
He axed his feelings
As the tree fell
She smiled
With tender dreams
Of building a place
Called Home.

Pach-Comic #4


Pach Comic

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