Terms and Conditions

बिस्तर का तुम्हारा कोना
अब मेरे कपड़ों और किताबों की
बेतरतीबी की आजादी है।
TV के channel बदलते रहने की
तुम्हारी परेशान करने वाली आदत से
छुटकारा है remote मेरे हाथ में होना।
खिचड़ी में पानी का
कभी सही अँदाजा ना होने कि कमजोरी का
कोई मजाक नहीं उड़ाता।
अलार्म के साथ ही शुरु हो जाने वाली
तुम्हारी live commentary की जगह
मुझ सी शाँत हुआ करती हैं
मेरी सुबहें।
रात के उस सपने से डर कर
उठ जाने की मेरी आदत
गयी नहीं अब तक।
पर अब सर सहला कर, मुझे सुलाने की
नाकाम कोशिश में, मेरे कानों में
खर्राटे लेते, कोई खुद नहीं सो जाता।
और इस आजादी को जीते हुए,
लगता है, पूरा agreement पढ़ने वाली मैं,
Terms and conditions पढ़ना भूल गई।

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Textures of an old soul

In 2008, I was in Sacramento, California. As excited as possible for a boring 22 year old nerd to be, I went exploring the city on my own. I asked my cab driver if the old Sacramento town was worth the time and money spent considering it was far from the uni. The cab driver, as all cab drivers do, started talking and to cut the long story short, on knowing I come from India exclaimed, “You come from Jodhpur you say? Why are YOU visiting old town? It is not even that old by your standard! Don’t you come from a city 1000 years old?” It filled my heart with joy and pride that he knew about my city and knew it so well. And I remember this story every time I visit my hometown. I always wanted to visit all those monuments back and relive my childhood memories. There never was enough time! Or let me say I never ran out of excuses. Since I have always stayed in boarding school and hostels, this place had always been the place you go back to with tired, worn down spirit. It has some heal

The Woman that she is

With a broken heart and a broken soul, Burns down to ashes, and emerges as whole. Sparkles in the sun, gets washed in the rain, She cries like a river, but isn’t defeated by the pain. She might be called stubborn, selfish, a whore She laughs it off, and it’s all washed ashore. She swims with the tides and against it too She is strong like a rock, delicate like the dew. She falls down, but stands up every damn time She knows very well, failure is not a crime. She limps, she walks, and here she started to run. She might lose the race, but the game she won.

Mid Night Muse

You are chocolate flavored cupcake in the bakery shop, In the world of formal shoes, you are my flipflop! You are the scent of fabric conditioner, on freshly washed sheet! In those indie songs I listen to, you are my favorite beat! You are the warmth of the sun at eleven on a sunny day, You are my favorite verse of all the things I say! You are the oversized, cozy sweatshirt of mine, You are the reddest of the red wine. You are the fragrance of baby soap on my skin at night, In these confusing left lanes, you are always right. You are the joy of finding an old note in a book. You are the 'plain' maggi that you cook. You are a cuppa on a rainy afternoon, You are the coolness of nightly sand dune.

Something about life

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