The sky was pale pink,with the reds clustering towards the setting sun.It was drizzling.I woke up from my siesta,startled by the intimidating roar. Soldiers reported that the source of the roar was an astounding beauty with eighteen hands..mounted over a lion..Nothing has shook my heart so far..No,it is not fear..

“Prime Minister,Go with a portion of our army on my behalf.Show her who Mahishasur is.Don’t harm her.Tell her she could be my Queen.”

Will she come?I haven’t seen her.But it seems like I know her more than I know myself.What would be her eyes like?Will the moon coyly hide behind her eyes?Or will the sun set into her eyes?

“Maharaj,She refused your proposal.She said she is both the creator and the creation.She said she wants to meet you in a battle.”The Prime minister said.

Did she stride into my empire or..?My heart..it aches.

“A woman’s pride lies in her desirability. Tamra,My trusted General,Go and humble her pride.Do not harm her.Trap her in your illusions.”

Tamra will bring her.She will be the Queen..Her face will be my day and her feet my night…and she,my life..


Tamra’s efforts have gone in vain.She is challenging me.What kind of a woman is she?It seems it is time for words to retire and actions to stir the dust..

“Durmukha!Bhashkala!let our army be ready.Let the horns blow.Let the flags flutter in the wind.Let the war begin!”

The horses vanished out of my sight.A lonely wind hummed a melancholy and swept into the balcony,caressing my untidy hair.I was surprised to realise that I had been praying for her..She is the Queen and she is ruling me..Will the boon save me this time?

A sleepless night and a despondent day gave birth to an evening with blood stained stories.A lost heart perched upon the tree of losses,yet chirping and singing the tale of spring..The leaves are falling..

My armour..it seems like I am wearing it for the first time.Ah!there is a strand of grey hair.Pluck it..or no let it be there.This is war..

This is my first war.So far I had been playing around.Nothing was as challenging as this.I always wanted to win.Today,the war is within me.I want to win and I want to lose too..

Ah! My men!Durmukha and Bhashkala are burning down with the dusk..Oh my dear Tamra.. And there lies Asiloma and Ah,this is Bidala’s head and where is my Sikshura?….Where is She?

Moments were clowns..and she was waiting for me.In the light of her eyes, I could see mine.And for the first time I had contempt for myself. My eyes were stagnant with lust that the mosquitoes of promiscuity bred night in them.

I asked her one more time..She seeks war..

She was stronger than I thought,an apt counter for an invincible.Her arrows were less severe than her eyes.The serpent shaped weapons were nothing in front of the curly hair..Man is not strong enough to attack her..I wasn’t born a king,but I was born to be a King.

Nine days and nine nights passed.In the course of war,I changed my forms many a times..or rather she unravelled my inner powers..She has defeated my flamboyance,my pride,my lust..The lion,the elephant and the snake went back to the jungle on that the moonlit night..

  She is undoubtedly more powerful than me.She could  have slayed me in a moment..Why is she not doing that then?


The tenth day..Red was radiating out of her cloth to garnish the last leaves of autumn.Her army has almost wiped out mine.Its the final wave.Today I am what I really am..devoid of masks and shadows..away from the stage,I am no longer an actor.I am the bull headed Mahishasur.I leapt upon her lion.She pressed the trident into my chest.I fell back.I knew I had no heart.Still,it was bleeding.The wound that I had been yearning for all this life..An unknown cocktail flowed out of my wound..No,it wasn’t blood..

I am still a warrior.I rose and kicked her..I could hear my mother’s voice,filled with joy “He is kicking..”I could hear my Father’s happiness..And now I could see her..She was fierce and tender..like the lotus in the scorching heat..I saw the lustre of her discuss..It was nothing in front of her lustre…


A final note..

I thank her for making my death so beautiful.She chose fall for my end.Trees draped their leaves in red..Sun’s rays kissed the sand passionately..Day and night and rain and sun came together..that dusk..to bid me farewell..On those last moments,when life and death held each other,I forgot to count my breath..Then I realised why she waited for the tenth day..Red was in the air..flowers and vermilion,her saree and the sky..blood and love..

Every year every body celebrate my loss with truimph..Every day I thank her for helping me win for the first time..Every year I celebrate her victory..

(The above write up is just an adaptation of the original version. There is no intention to mislead or cause confusion.)



The night before that dawn

The slanting rays of the afternoon peeped in through the curtains.Leaves of the banyan,who were married to the branches were eloping with the wind…to an unknown destiny.There were many more leaves..there were many strokes of grey and white in the sky..But the day was nearing its end… He feared death for the first time.He looked inside.Behind the curtains she was looking at him with love.He smiled faintly.She went up to him and gently touched his face. He felt like a kid.He lay on her laps and wept,counting his sins..She was gently passing her fingers through his hair.He looked out of the window of the train of life.Somebody lighted a cigar on the western horizon.Grey crept over the walls of the sky.The day held the dusk tightly.He felt a rare pain.The dusk threw colors.The dusk smeared red powder on its cheeks. The dusk was intoxicated by bhang.The dusk stooped and stumbled in the dark.Lust blossomed as stars just to fall as a shooting star and the dusk was lost..forgotten..His stream of thoughts sublimed into a short nap.
He woke up to a distant clinging of bells and aartis.It was still dusk.She was busy lighting the lamps in front of the huge painting of the Goddess.He suddenly,strangely felt like preparing a lemonade for her..and only for her.He went to the kitchen and took a lemon.While cutting it he accidentally cut his finger.When she came back she found him with a bleeding finger.The blood was not white as pearls..It was dripping from his finger like rubies..She dressed his wound.She was delighted to see the change in him.She drank the lemonade and smiled at him.He drank the rest.She lighted the Dhunuchi.The fragrance and the fragile smoke filled the air.The smoke lashed at his face.A thousand mosquitoes flew out of his mind.A Polash tree blossomed in his mind.And the twigs of the Polash were burning in the sacred fire accompanied by the rhythm of mantras. He could feel his sins burning in it like an age old Chola empire.His heart was no longer cold.It was brooding like a pigeon..warm and cozy.

He took the squeezed lemons and pressed in the middle to form small lemon diyas.He placed them on a plate and took it to the room.

She was in deep meditation. He lit the lemon diyas and prayed to the Goddess.It rained and his mind was smeared by ash from an age old fire..like an Aghori..The smoke from the Dhunuchi was still dissolving in the fragrance of the air…The night withdrew..And the dawn was blushing red…


“Shhhh..brulllll..”the sound of urine falling on the water inside the closet resonated inside his bathroom.He felt that there is a music in urine.It took long because he had lots of urine.It was white in color,or colorless..it was like the sky after the rain,so pale.Even last week, it was like Appy fizz.So golden and it created bubbles and foam in the closet water.He got out of the toilet,put on his zip and got out.It is time for college.

The bus was a bit crowded.He stood in the front region,listening to the journey song.There was a tourist bus in front of his bus.Some fluid was dripping from it,as if it was urinating.

The sky was clouded.There were oil stains in the roads,painted by rainbows.His bladder was full again.He has to walk a lot to reach the college.He can urinate on that side of the footpath.Thought streams interrupted him.”Hey that will pollute our city”.”But this is India and lots of people do that here and there is nothing wrong in case of an EMERGENCY”. But he just decided not to do so.He has to be different and moreover this is swachh bharat.

Somehow he reached the college.He rushed to the boys toilet.He noticed the conversion of a smile to a surprise in acquainted faces.But there was no time to address them at that moment,because it was an emergency.

The boys toilet was smelly,stinky and dirty.No Chemistry lab or Junkyard could match it.Since it was a public toilet and since it was clogged,there was a cocktail of urine and some wriggling creatures and larvae in the closet.He could not urinate,maybe his urine was too proud,just like him.

As usual he had lots of free hours that day.He couldn’t go out because of attendance issues,yet another wasted day.He felt terribly angry with the whole world.There was a time when he had spent extra hours at school and those times were worth everything.He was worried with the college.He felt like taking revenge.But how?He could commit suicide by jumping into the college well,and before dying he would urinate in the well,so that the whole college will drink his urine.Ha ha ha.”Oh God!How crazy and devilish I am!”He thought.

After college,he was walking home with his mind occupied by several anxieties.He never expected college to be like this.His friends say that this is the best 3 years of his life.But he is way too anxious about his future.He feels insecure..always.He sipped the hot tea,slowly.The samovar was growling.And his stomach was also growling.He was hungry.

He got the side seat in the bus.The breeze ran its fingers through his hair.The cold air hugged him close.The rain sang a lullaby.He felt like sleeping.With his droopy,sleepy eyes he saw the flex of Attukal bhagavathy and he felt that she was smiling at him.He felt a rare sense of tranquility.He smiled.

He came in,kept his bag aside and went inside the toilet in his room.There was peaceful silence which dissolved in the sound of the belt and the unzipping jeans and to the musical “shhh..brulll.”He felt so light and relaxed.He came out of the toilet humming a forgotten tune of tranquility..

Dead Alive

images.jpeg-59We all die in someone’s story.

They mourn our death

While we pick eggs from the store

For tomorrow’s breakfast.

They long for us,

In autumn leaves,

Winter’s frost,

Summer’s bliss

And the promises of the Spring.

Yet when we come face to face,

On either side of the railway station,

they’d look beyond us,

The melancholy in their eyes would

Search in the train that

Came past several stations of self,

For a trace of a forgotten friend.




Picture: Saudade by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Júnior, 1899.

A Birthday song

They say that today was my birthday.
Years before this was the first time
I made my mother suffer.
I’m engulfed by love this day,
Every year.
Some love stood the test of time,
Others were fragile fragrances.
Nevertheless, I spoke to the apparition
in the mirror this year too.
I congratulated him for enduring
Another year of a joke called life. All I know for sure is that I am one step closer to the gold deposit of death.

A Confession

Light seeped in through the meticulously carved partition. A multitude of spotlights on my face lay scattered in focus. A burden brooded inside me. The Golden sunshine, fragrant frankincense and myrrh crumbs set the ambience. I sat down to listen. “ I have sinned again.” Said the voice from the other side. “ I have given myself into the greed of gluttony, the gluttony of lust, the envious lust, the wrath of envy, the pride of wrath and the sloth of pride.” Continued the voice. “ I have broken hearts. I..I..I don’t know”. The voice quivered. “ I am a sinner.” Struggled the voice. “Me too.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying that.
“ Why did you do that?” the voice asked. I didn’t knew what to say. But that question was posed to both of us. “ When did we fail? “ the voice asked in a calm way. Was it when we smiled to resist tears? Or was it when we started to speak in spite of the ugliness in our words over the sublime beauty of our silence? Or was it when we saw the good and the bad? Or mine and not mine? Or I and you? The chaotic order of my thoughts paused for a moment at the next question. “Why did we fail?” I was paralysed and nauseated together. I knew and I didn’t knew the answer. “ wouldn’t it be because we ceased to love?” asked the voice. There was clarity in spite of my vision being blurred by tears.
“ Why did you cease to love?” I asked. Thick silence from the other side suffocated me. “ was it because, you were afraid that it would hurt you again?”. Silence persisted on the other side. Could it be because he was hurt more than once when sincere love was not acknowledged, let alone being reciprocated? Or could it be that he too had to go through a stage when his innocence and love were manipulated… or perhaps, taken for granted? Thoughts clouded in my head. “Are you alright?” “ You hurt others because you were hurt. They hurt you because they were hurt. Forgive them. Forgive yourself.” I blurted out half heartedly. “Hmm.” Said the voice. I felt better.
“Do you feel lonely?” I asked. I felt as if that lonely moment stayed to enjoy our silent company. “ Yes.” The voice replied. “It’s been so long since we last met.” Said the voice. I couldn’t resist anymore. Perhaps this is the person who’ll never hurt me . Perhaps, he could be a friend for life. Perhaps, he’ll understand. Perhaps we will grow together. Hope with all its feathers, perched high on my heart. I rushed to the other side. There, I was surprised to see a beautifully crafted mirror, reflecting me in all its grandeur. I was confused, felt disappointed and then brimmed with immense happiness. God smiled at me with so much love.


In search of love…to be loved and to love…

For love is a power game too among other things giving rise to

The strength in being loved and the courage to love..

But not being able to do so..

Necessity brings people..they need something and there they are..

When does people hurt..? I think when they get too close..

Stay away friends..I am mending walls..

Stay away love..I am finding me..

I shall get close but I will never let you close..I will try not to hurt..

Hence I confide in consoling silence..

Because words are weary burdens..

I must go on and on..flow..with time, life and nothingness with a tinge of solitude..


The enemy was trapped within the dropping delirious curtains of the mosquito net. He was struggling to get out. The primitive within me grasped the enemy. In a fraction of a second, I saw the marvellous beauty of the fragile wings on the delicate black web. A cocktail of amusement, intimidation and pride brimmed within. I released the enemy.Broken and bruised,it was still beautiful. The enemy intimidated the gentleman. The ape within the gentleman clasped the enemy, crushed him with a stale anger that had returned to him after a futile journey to random addresses. The enemy was dead and it rolled into my palm. The enemy’s proboscis touched the gentleman’s palm as if it was kissing goodbye. Startled, the man threw it away.

Far away, in a timeless land somebody shot down an albatross.

The gentleman laughed and remarked:”They spread diseases”. The man was still intimidated by the beauty of the little mosquito.

An Autumnal hymn

Autumn..A season that teaches you the beauty of letting go..
A season that reminds you how changes can be beautiful too..A season that shows you that life can be restarted..A season when the trees shed their leaves and introspect in silence..a gentle reminder that there is more…much more than people in life..A season when nature blush like a boy who’s in love..

Thankyou dear Autumn.

A note to God

Strangers who used to be friends

Nobodies who used to be somebodies.

And in the mirror,is the apparition of the unfamiliar.

All I have is a public privacy and a dozen of Everybody’s secrets.

In the sleepless nights I imbibe the reciprocating irony of uniqueness in oneness.

Love..heal me.

The new member.

Some things come to us once in a life time. They arrive out of nowhere.”My whole body is anticipating the arrival of the baby. The molar gum was impregnated with hope and it had been nineteen years. The gum is bulged and she is fed by my blood. My body is weak, yet I’m her man. I had shut my mouth to warm her with my silence. It wasn’t december, yet it was cold outside. Sharp words fell like snowflakes. A feverish fire was set up for her. Her good neighbours ground the bread and wine and blood fed her. Yet she was pale.. I had butterflies in my stomach. The pain had begun..

Ulcers stood guarding at the tip of the tongue and the mouth seemed like a prison. The herd of sheep near the tongue seemed like the foaming waters of Yamuna. The palate stood tall as a thousand headed snake.

One or two drops of blood might have stained the pink flesh when the bright star twinkled. A white head popped out, the wise one. The moon, the wind and the sun of the east followed the star and visited the newborn and showered blessings.And thus he was born..dividing time..reminding wisdom..

The flight of a bird🕊

It was March and a bird sang for the first time..
About the melancholic saudade of life and the mundane metaphors of death..
A flock of birds flew with him..beneath the scorching sun..

Rain,love and titles showered that monsoon..
His clouded heart was afraid of them, once..
Somewhere in the journey,he befriended the three..
He became the black swan in rain
He became the white swan in love
He became the brother,soul twin and other innumerable titles..

Everyone identified..yet none knew..
He ventured to know the unknown.
He was nested by love and caged by thoughts
Yet he found home within… Leaving everything behind..

The sun came, stayed and returned alone..
The moon always had the stars with him..
Fallen leaves froze beneath the snow..
With the feathers of hope,he flew to the everlasting spring..

Fever, Siesta, Contemplation…

It is wonderful to fall ill, once in a while. When my mind refuses to pause in a hectic life, my body echoes Neruda. It reminded me the power of a timely pause.It showed me the sublime sensuosness of silence, by keeping quiet. My body stood naked before my mind and temperature soared up. I noticed how dilated my pupil became and how red my lips turned. I trembled at my shivering heart, while the clock counted to 12. My senses became more sharp. I could see the flame in the eyes of my reflection in the mirror, flickering like a terrible fish. My nostrils widened to pick up my wild scent. Dews of perspiration garnered my moustache, with the lips below, so red like the blazing sun of the evening sky. My limbs were weak, every joint demanded rest. I could feel the muscles. My dorsal muscles are infidels-they were into an illegitimate relation with the softness of my bed whilst their solid marriage to my bones. When chill creeps through my nerves, warmth crawls through the hair in my chest and clasp the hair at the back of my head. I’d shiver, tremble and grunt like a wounded beast in the warm and soft bosom of my immunity. Lukewarm porridge and the naughty lemon pickle spiced up passion.The warmth crept over me like a Cow girl. Light and shadow lay intertwined on my body.Outside my window was a Sun who was lost in kissing the suprasternal notch of a scorching summer and climaxing into the wet monsoon. Cold air blew through the window and warm air rushed in and out rhythmically from my lungs.




I am a farmer, sowing seeds and hope, with a body promised to the Earth and a heart bound to the soil. My fever, like the Earth is round and plump..and a heart beats within her, like a fuming core.
I admire her lust for the delirium of death and the zest for the luring life..

#Celebrating fever!