I used to have a ritual.
Of gathering thoughts
and polishing hopes.
I would pick a thought up
and then, a hope.
One by one,
I would ascertain
their worth.
If they passed muster,
I would take them along.

Long before I grew up,
I knew –
I had to invest –
in silence.
To bring forth
from the corners of memory –
all that has been;
and from a vague image
of a distant self –
all that should be.

I had an inkling –
that it was in stillness,
that time bridged
the distance
between the past
and the future;
That it was in silence
that the true reverberations
of the self were felt.

But somewhere between childhood and here,
the ritual receded
into a shelf
of long discarded things.
But once in a while when I stand still,
I can hear
the thud of innocence
against walls of reason.

Once in a while when I stand still,
I can yet freeze time
and rewrite my days
as if I were –
the master of my time.

Niches in time

Silently by the roadside.
Hold time by your fingertips.
Watch it flow. Watch it hold still.
time is nervous. Time has to pass.
Moments linger – O, so heavily they linger.
They want you to notice.

Hold. Pause.
So that, in another time, under a similar moon –
you may remember
and recover –
this moment –
this blissful moment –
that connects the world to you.

Pause. Ask.
What is your life to you –
Or don’t.
Let the winds carry you
to those spaces
where music and words
stand in reverence
to the magnanimity
of comfortable silences.

Pause. Life exists in the niches of time you carve out.

Apprentices to time

The year stands lightly,
by the door.
An apprentice to time,
His tenure is done.
He holds up the key
And with a wistful sigh,
Talks of bags and suitcases
Waiting to be packed.

He talks of memories,
Lying in silken pouches
And far too many days
Colored – by reminiscence
Drying in the sun, still.
He would leave them behind
As footnotes
For a new journeyman.

He talks of hope,
He had bundled
Into a grand old closet,
Creaking with the wisdom
Of years that had passed it by.

And with a strange fascination
Befitting a toddler,
He counts the minutes
He has left
To pack the fog that hangs heavy –
His handiwork –
Into boxes of lead – his –
To carry – onward into history.
Tears and blood, he has to
Transform – into
neat stories and rounded numbers –
Posterity has time,
Only for approximations
Of misery.

But his last great work,
He says, would be
To leave behind,
The key he fashioned
For the grand old closet.
He would pass on, he says,
The salience of hope
To a new journeyman –
The fresh apprentice to time –
Already on the road.

A lifetime – A kaleidoscope

Due disclosures – When you come across the phrase, “the moment seizes you”, you might be tempted to call me a thief. So let me tell you in the beginning itself that I watched ‘Boyhood‘, the movie yesterday and that is what inspired me to pen this down. If you still want to call me a thief, go ahead :).

Have you looked at this moment carefully?

This fleeting, careless moment –

It sweeps past you with disdain.

You hold your breath and wait –

For it to have gone,

Sufficiently into the past;

And then –

In the shade of a distant time,

You ask yourself,

How have l lived?

You retrieve these very seconds and find

That your love for yourself

Has coloured it all –

Life is brighter in memories;

Moments are more precious

Once they have passed.


Moments –

If only we could,

Hold each one in our palm,

Laugh with it, appreciate it,

While it is still, a creature of now,

Maybe we would,

Answer our own questions

Lying in wait, in the realm of tomorrow,

With a tinge of reality

And a flourish of contentment.


The queries you make,

The answers you let yourself find –

They pave a path -your life.

Those moments that come by-

They give breath to your life.

Seize the moment and you turn a corner.

Let the moment seize you

And you find a fullness –

Here in the now.

With enough of those –

Inspired questions

And content experiences –

You and time

Would have made

a kaleidoscope – Your lifetime.