Everyone lives in a gutter
I just wanna make
The gutter happier.
That’s my moral compass
Something my teacher
Once told, I remember.

I once lived
Like a sewer rat
Soaked in filth and mud,
Thinking life
Must be the same
For every other rat.

But he showed me
A rat in the rain,
Busy dancing
It meant a lot,
Something.

It’s not about the water,
Nor the grime in the drain;
It’s how you find joy
In pleasure or pain.

there's no crime that can't be presented
as some kind of heroic action.
if you've something to say against it,
then you're plotting an insurrection.
then no matter how loud you're screaming
at those giving their lives to get drafted,
you're a traitor that stands on the front lines
while the patriots watch from a distance.
every word can be framed as a slogan,
every question's a sign of resistance.
as the crowd splits in different directions,
there's no evil that can't be presented
as some kind of heroic action.

They say,
A girl belongs at home-
Learn to cook,
Not to dream.
Don't fly too high,
What will people say?

She's married before she's grown,
A child holding another child,
Who haven't even known,
Why a mother is called so.

Her books replaced with bangles,
School replaced with in-laws home,
Teacher replaced with husband barely known,
Limited to cook, not to dream.

They chant caste like a curse,
As if birth decides worth.
They build temple for goddesses,
But beat the women,
Who are an incarnation of same goddess.
They worship the goddess with flowers and gold,
But still Bound with the dowry which is now old.

This the dark reality of a society,
Who is modern outside,
But narrow minded inside.

Today I did take a trip down Ashen Row,
Stepping 'cross stones both cobbled and cold,
Each pebble and brick laced with poverty's woe,
Observing nothing but starving children and dying old,

They stood with eyes hollow,
Hands that shook, knees bent,
Mother's clung to babes in sorrow,
Radiant once, now ravaged, spent

Sobbing beneath their weighted sin,
Too weak to fight, too strong to sleep,
While sunlight cowered behind silver skin,
And the wind could only scream and weep,


Bawling through streets-unheard, passed by,
While we moved in polished deftness,
Preferring the chatter of the spry and sly,
Master of our chosen deafness,

We saw the world in colours two:
Those of our gods, gold and might
A hungry child remained untrue
A whispering ghost beyond gilded sight,

Too small to matter, now ghosts. Denied.
No trembling limbs, nor fleeting breath,
Only shadows stretched, and rain replied,
With air, and stone, and death,

Now crime blooms where hope fled,
And Avarice wears high its sulfur crown,
We traded Saints for Lords of Greed instead,
And cast the cries of hunger down,

Yet on the road of stone and chill,
Danced a Fool, with iron will,
In colours too wild - too many to name,
He spun beneath painted acclaim,

His eyes sparkled, as though they knew,
What stars confess to chosen few,
He danced a wild and holy rite,
His shoes sang sorrow through the night,

The wind grew still to watch him spin,
The skies drew back, and smiled within,
And stone - from its cold unyielding throne,
Would hum unknowingly beneath his tone,

Each day I passed, each day I heard,
A hidden grief in every word,
His body spoke with frantic grace,
A mourning song, a laughing face,

Which god he served, I could not tell,
What vow he made, no tongue could spell,
But once- so fleeting, fierce, and bright -
The sun broke through, and dark turned light,

He could not end hunger's ache,
Nor mend the homes the rich forsake,
But when he danced, it seemed - it seemed -
The weary world itself then dreamed,

And for that grace alone, for a Fool's soft art,
I hold him sacred in my heart,

For he made stone sing - in ancient tone -
As if it crowned a long lost throne,
Whispering dreams forgotten, known.

late night thoughts
not allowing me to sleep
deep enough to weep
instead of water
my face is covered in blood

body tucked in warmest sweater
still I somehow feel the cold
cold air seeping through
the gaps I never noticed
they were closed when we hugged

her pictures make me a little warm
she makes blood flow in my heart
instead of poison
but am reminded about her absence
as I bleed only poison

her face was the sun, light
now covered by these clouds
I try to find solace knowing
that the sun is still shining
on someone who is fortunate

rumours about me
stab me harder than reality
their words feel like am being
cut by diamonds that never mends
my real name even I have forgot
*******, loser, ugly face
I have got used to

dreams crashing faster than light
credit card running out of it’s might
nothing in the world seems right
buy me a rope I shall hang tight

late night thoughts
not allowing me to sleep