നാം രണ്ടു യുഗങ്ങൾക്കിപ്പുറം,
അല്ലെങ്കിൽ ഒരുവേള രണ്ടു ജന്മങ്ങൾക്കിപ്പുറം,
എന്തിനു കേവലം രണ്ടു ശതകങ്ങൾക്കിപ്പുറം,
നമ്മേ അറിഞ്ഞിരുന്നെങ്കിൽ,
അലിഞ്ഞുപോകുമായിരുന്നതല്ലയോ
ഇന്നു നമ്മേ പൊതിയുന്നൊരീ നിശ്ശബ്ദതതകളെല്ലാം!

ഒന്നു തൊട്ടാൽ നിന്നിലേക്കെത്തുന്ന ദൂരത്തു
ഞാനിരിപ്പെങ്കിലും,
ഏതോ മഞ്ഞലയിൽ കരുങ്ങിയെൻ തോന്നലുകൾ
നിന്നേ വലംവച്ചു പോയതല്ലാതെ,
അറിഞ്ഞതില്ല നീ, ഞാനോ ആവിമൂകതയിൽ
വീണില്ലാതെയായി!

സമയങ്ങളീണങ്ങളായിരുന്നു പണ്ടെങ്കി-
ലിന്നവ കേവലം പറവകൾക്കു,
വിഹായസ്സു  മാത്രമായി!
ഇന്നു നാം വഴികൾ പിരിയവേ, സഹയാത്രി,
നിന്നോടുഞാനെന്തു പറയേണ്ടു!
ഉള്ളിലേക്കെടുത്ത അവസാന പ്രണവായുവും
നിന്നോർമയിൽ മാത്രമായിരുന്നുവെന്നല്ലാതെ!
സഹയാത്രി, ഇനി നിന്നോടു ഞാനെന്തു പറയേണ്ടു!

Masterpiece!

Art Was Everywhere

It was everywhere…
Bright and light,
Forms of art.

In broken cups with mud stains,
And in shattered bangles,
In those wrinkled, unmade bedsheets,
And in half-dried roses—
There was pure art.

When trees bent in storms,
And clothes danced to their tunes,
When monsoon mornings
Left teardrops on leaves—
There was beauty in art.

When lovers kissed behind the shades of trees,
And wildflowers bloomed in melancholy,
There was silence in art.

When old couples held hands
And walked past squares, slowly,
Life was beating in art.

When teardrops dried halfway down your cheeks,
And slipping strands of hair veiled your face—
There was romance in art.

But when I looked inside… my heart,
There stood an image of nothingness—
A gleam of empty hues,
Crystal, pale,
Staring at me from the void.

The day distress stamped my heart
So heavily with longing,
For all those beautiful shades of art,
I drank the elixir offered by thee
At the shrine of our shared agonies,
Kissing thy lips hopelessly.

In the upheavals of that love,
I fell deep into the gloom,
Breaking my heart—entrancingly.

The hurt, the wound, and the color of thy
Bleeding thoughts
Stained my soul with the velvety red
Of sorrow and grief—
An art I became.

And then…
I was worth a masterpiece!

Disclaimer- this is not co- incidental

The Art of Letting go- ( and holding on)

I hadn’t been writing for a while.

Maybe I loved the outward silence it projected.
Sometimes, deceiving the world around about the beats playing inside your head is an act of doting on yourself.
It even helps trick your own mind into an inebriated melancholy.

The Akvarellblock papers you bought for me from the shop opposite the park—the one with the big bougainvillea fence—lay untouched, covered in the dust of my disownment.
The words I once mustered with ease have now abandoned me, for the emotions they fed on were drained out while scribbling those letters never sent to you.

Isn’t it strange—how the things you once held close to your heart lose their magic and charm over time? Or how we teach ourselves they no longer matter?
Walking with you every evening was one of the most important routines of my life.
Now, as I sit here alone, watching those familiar evening strollers, all I wonder is...
Was it ever important to you?

I was never afraid to voice my feelings.
But somehow, I lost the art of playing them in soft tunes.
How strange it is—to watch someone walk away from your life, and to feel the numbness in your heart…
That moment when you're left holding the weight of an entire universe you once built together—alone—
Trying hard not to drop it, and still watching it scatter all around you.
For a while, you even forget to breathe.

You gave me such superpowers.
You made me realize parts of myself I never knew existed.
Maybe I should thank you here.

I was just an ordinary soul, with some scratches and stitches here and there.
Hope was my religion; miracles, my belief.
You made me feel special—if only for a while—
Only to shake me up to reality and drop me back into my ordinariness…
Leaving everything that happened between us as nothing but a mirage.

But now that I’ve outgrown your disinterest,
The one thing that once weighed me down,
I can rightfully claim my share of the wisdom that was once hidden from me—
Now revealed and bestowed by your sheer indifference.

You don’t really lose people from your life.
You don’t stop loving them either.
You just get used to the distance and their absence.
You learn to hum along to the music in your heart,
And begin to enjoy its rhythm alone.

But deep down, your heart still misses a beat to every rhythm,
And it brings a moistness to your eyes.
Still, it’s life after all…
Just another win-win game.
You have to play along until you’ve lost all its beats.

Well… needless to say,
I do like the pause and replay button
A lot more than Ctrl + Alt + Delete.

So here I am…
Refurbishing, once again, the best story of my life.

Lets do this together

Let Justice Be Our Faith

For those who seek the color of faith  

In the lifeless bodies of children,  

Torn by the horrors of brutal rape...  

Look at the face of your little girl,  

See her smile—  

Let it linger,  

Let it sink deep into your soul.  

Do you find any color there,  

Of the *faith* you hold so dear?  

Their faith is your love,  

Their belief is in you.  

They trust with innocent hearts,  

And weep when the world betrays them.  

A child is born to a man,  

But belongs to the world.  

They are the treasures  

Every nation should cherish.  

Do not justify one death with another—  

Let the cries ring out,  

Let them unite us in sorrow.  

Repent, for we have failed them all.  

Do not turn away,  

Do not discriminate  

Against any child.  

It is our sacred duty to bring them justice,  

Justice of the purest kind.  

For the act was the same,  

The crime was the same,  

The agony was the same,  

The misery was the same.  

Let no politics stand in the way,  

Let no color of faith divide us.  

Let the trial be just,  

To heal the wound of a crime so unjust! 

I am silent…

Not because I am a Hindu and you were a Muslim.
Not because I am afraid I’ll be labelled a terrorist if I speak for you.
Not because you are not related to me by blood,
Or because I don't feel your loss deep in my heart.

I am silent…
Because my words have lost their power,
And my tears, their meaning…
In a country where dark corners only know how to violate a woman's body,
A country that has surrendered its senses to religion—
Unable to see the tenderness of a child,
Where the shrine of a temple became the abattoir of an innocent life.

A country that mourns every rape death,
Yet closes its conscience to humanity.
A country that sold its soul to drama,
And forgot all its virtues,
Where religious vandalism is a holy act.

I am silent
Because I live in a country of morons,
Who justify criminal acts with religious texts
That have long lost their glory.

I am silent
Because my country is deaf,
And my screams of agony and pain
Are seen as nothing more than a funny act of feminism.

Yes, we are different.
You lost your life—
And I lost my soul to it.

But yes… I too am an abettor!!