Monday, September 20, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
I was just thinking a few days back to take photos of my work in that sketchbook...and now it's gone! I just can't believe I have lost it...I have never lost a sketchbook in my life!
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
The rat ran through the rain
I stared with my purple umbrella
On the terrace
Drenching my towel blue
Twinkle lights on the mosque
Woh jo thha dard ka karaar, kaha?
Wringing the towel, still no drops
But it's ripe with river
Aankh ki ek gaaon mein raatko khwab atethhe
Tak, take, taking it to the shade
Enough of the pangs of river!
Woh jo bahetethhe abshar kahaa???
What happens to those towels
Whose masters sleep asnore
When it rains at midnight
Urte khwabon ka aetbar kahaa...?
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Is it art when men lie and compartmentalise their conscience???
Then it's definitely art to march into the unknown...cos' the unknown can't offer worse than the known...
Truth always brings happiness...in this day and age where nothing costs or hurts more than truth, I embrace truth...for it shall always remain with me and my people around me...
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Never on the hands of our commonest enemies...
I would have savoured you alive and wounded
In the mind, not the flesh...
Just as you might think I am one of them
I too feel you are one of them
You conspired with the State
To take my Love away...
I hated you
With the last turn of the silencer
You have become the immortal martyr
Am listening to Raag Tori by Kumar Gandharva
I dont believe there are only three kinds of people
He likes you. Perhaps loves even.
You didn't have to defeat me like this
But that you did
I shall gallop along now
You can haunt me and make him love you
Does death make one better?
Even if it does, do I quiver?
But I wanted you dead
Never on the hands of the State
Or of mine...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
They teach us about collective deviance and expect us to have collective obedience (even dumbness) in 30, Mother Teresa Sarani. And in 40, Daley Road, it was cold, really cold, and I could call oranges mandarins, and deans by their names; there this lady slept on my bed while I shivered (with cold not dreams) on the carpetted floor...and the carpet wasn't Persian, though my student was...And there are other roads and alleys that have been alzheimered in my mind...
I can invent words...dont get shocked...i can turn addresses into empires or ruins...and i am only joking, you know...you can leave your hat on! Yes you, am addressing you to take a peek into ur head underneath...