How beautiful they look

 yet how cruel they are 

   Narcissistic words

    Corrupted words

Seemingly Sincere words

       Slying words

   How wordless we are 

In the world full of words.


“There is a word called Depression”


Delving deep into the depression,
crying, cursing, dying every moment,
tired, terrified, terrible every time,
exhausted, ended, engulfing every single morsel.
Banished, baffled, bannaled is how I feel,
loathsome, lacky, lousy is how I have become.
Oh, Life!! give me my share of happiness.
Where have you hidden it?
Is it among people or wealth?
put an end to my miseries
Reinvigorate me!
I had always been a fighter but let me be a fugitive
this time.
No more fatigue, fighting, and ferociousness this time.
Give me a future with all its might
Let me be thankful enough this time.
Since I’ve left no more in me what it takes to be right this time
There is a word called Depression,
I wish I wasn’t acquainted with.

The time is tough,

jumbled thoughts,

mumbled desires.

Memories of few

glories I had once


Moments of ecstasy I had had 

once felt.

In those moments, I felt whole.

Few lies, I knew about from 

the onset. 

Got seduced by them and truth

got mutilated.

I disturbed the natural balance. 

I hid myself from God,

little did I know,

God sent him to 

shatter me. 

He broke the perfect


Scarlet color seeped through

every stroke of brush.

The scenerey wasn’t devoid

of colors though. 

Those colors weren’t mine colors.

Fate created some horrid Art.

Abstractions did by Agony.

There was a soul in their.

Still clinging to the rotten


That rotten flesh was mine.

Apparently I was alive,

something inside me was 


I was breathing than why did

I feel dead at that time ?

My eyes still had light,

but that wasn’t my light.

Deconstructors departed,

but they gave Art, disfiguration.

Shall I curse them ? 

I want to curse them,

call their names.

So I can have few

moments of strength in 

present vulnerability.

I want to inflict pain on them,

I want to avenge myself.

In this moment, revenge can 

be seen in my eyes 

And my mind set on fire,

blazzing and fierce.

Yet I know, these moments

are short lived and can be

overthrown by my misery and


I can’t curse them because

once I cared for them. 


While I am writing this blog post, I can see the Heading in bold, demanding for a Title, a justification, a reason or few words to summarize the lines I want to write. I can’t think of a title or am I trying to save my remaining strength and dignity by merely writing some incoherent lines, that would just add to the frustration of the reader? My words are just like me, perplexed and frustrating.

I didn’t nurture my perplexed state and I wasn’t a born frustrated person. I have been ensnared in this trap, over the years, like every other person walking on this earth, reading quotes, in a constant state of fighting with his brain and enduring the pain of his tensed nerves.

Optimistic, optimism and strong, I have never been a part of this tribe. Since my childhood, I have always cherished in the company of only one massive group, “the underestimating machine”, yes, I have always underestimated myself, since then, all the successes I have bagged to till this date is actually the working of God and after him Almighty, it is Art. Proving my fragile self to my mind and soul.

I dreamt for one thing, like the Protagonist of Paulo Coelho’s Novel “Eleven Minutes”, love, never ending selfless love. This dream is still a dream and even if Reality tries to do justice to it, Fate intervenes and all I get to hear are some excuses, blames and apologies. They close the door so hardly and harshly, that my soul shrieks and my feelings shiver. I blame myself for the damage done to myself by myself. I know, these paragraphs might be frustrating you out but that’s how I have become now. I have so many secrets and some of them have to be carried towards my grave. My insecurities, my complexes, the idea of finding a safe shelter between this temporary World and the never ending life of Hereafter. My mind is constantly dwindling between the idea of a saint or a sinner and where will I finally tread. Heaven’s too pure for me and my sins are worst than the gravest of sins ever done on this earth. I am perplexed from head to toe and likewise frustrated too. I can never stop my tongue from uttering baseless, senseless harsh words and once I have spoken them, I can never terminate my mind from thinking, how badly I hurt others and I have reserved a place for me in Hell, inside the burning coals, thorns and two forked insects.

I don’t know how to act normal and sound. One rejection made life horrible for me, then rejections continued. I can’t close the doors to my heart, I am a human too. A friggin human, who has been cursed with a heart, few feelings, and a too thinkable mind. Who feels for them but not for myself. Even my body isn’t mine. I know my Creator and my Sustainer isn’t a tyrant and a cruel master to throw me in the hell fire, If I just skip a prayer . But my mind tells me, a sinner can’t do this, what if your hidden sins get exposed, where would you go? Earth will not accept you and Skies will look down upon you, you’re a sinner. You let your lovers pollute you, you let them misuse you, cut your body, that pieces of your filthy body with iron bars where they touched you. But I am not even capable of doing this. I go everywhere with a battle inside my head, I write verses, I write prose to get some relief but mind says you’re a terrible writer because you have to look for every word and you double check every error.

Rejection, alone couldn’t make me the terrible me, my rejection of myself played the massive part in my rejection too. I abhor someone approaching me with care and prayers. I hate concerns and above all, I hate being bothered by anyone. I dread humans, I dread Love and I am overburdened by my tangled mind and thorny tongue.


Mortification or Gratification

Clean dishes, bed made.

Clothes ironed and bookshelves pristine.

Curtains flawless, floors stainless.

Clean surroundings, tidy atmosphere.

But my mind is still a mess,

forces inside, playing a game of chess.

I give an air, everything’s just fine,

then why don’t my eyes shine.

My nerves have never been at ease, since then

They say things will get right but when?

I am hapless, hopeless and all that stuff.

My heart pounds, my feet trips and of

my mind’s demons?

I can’t even comprehend!

I am distancing myself from people,

I want to live the liberty of an Eagle,

denuded of this horrendous world.

My words hurt, my acts kill

and my intuition liquidate.

My senses have fallen from

fancy fences.




My Failings

You can’t be successful without being suffered.

I would frown at every accomplished person while listening to their success stories. I would say ” what do they know about my suffering ? ” and ” oh, the same phrases, which leads nowhere.” Now, when I glance back at my life, a year before as it was and now when I reflect upon my that situation, all the phrases and the success stories have beginning to make sense to me. 

For a person can’t be successful without being suffered, like a bird, who can’t fly without the fear of falling on the ground. Like a baby, whose first step follows a series of countless trippings until he learns to walk steady. I had been so comfortable in my own comfort zone that I forgot about the heavenly and the earthly tests. I always gave an air that no bad circumstances could ever hit me. I was wrong, then after graduation, the job hunting made me realize that comfort zone is a fancy. Life doesn’t offer you bed of roses always, thorns also exist. I gave endless interviews and demonstrations but there was something that had to be done first. That very thing was to give me a reality check, that its about time to mend my habits and my carefully nurtured views. I didn’t like the reality check, not a bit of it at first. Watching the underdogs settling in their lives was a dreadful sight for me. 23 and still dependent on parents, was like an insult to me. What was even more painful than their not taunting you and still supporting you. I missed many opportunities and the ones I caught was never meant for me. My anxiety was engulfing me and my mind was in a state of constant war. I yelled , I cried and what not. 

Then Almighty bestowed me with some creative gifts, I couldn’t have ever thought of. Yes, I started sketching and writing. I was a student who used to loathe drawing and was a least scorer in that subject. Writing, I was always fond of but the intensity and the depth of words, gushing out of my chest and running on the paper was something mysterious to me. Though, I am still amateur and terrible at both the things but I know they bring me solace everytime. I am still jobless and dependent on my parents but I have learned one thing, “how to encounter your worst fear, fear of failure”. Now I know life outside of my so called comfort zone and how am I gonna pave my way to success, I once imagined. I honor my lows and I am indebted, a great deal to my sufferings and failures. 

Life is a funny thing, it has many tests thrown in your way and countless experiences that don’t come handy. 

For there is no success without suffering

and no life without lessons.

I’ll Always be a 90’s Kid

For I’ll always be a 90’s kid
I’ll jump on every crossing sign,
I’ll twist my finger in the cassette hole,
I’ll always love the typewriters
and the polaroids.
I’ll always love the frilled frocks
and the moist bibs.
For I’ll always be a 90’s kid.
The sight of enormous dictionaries
will always enlighten me.
For I am still a 90’s kid,
I am everywhere out there,
in the jigsaws and in the seesaws,
in the swings and in the rings.
In old frames and elders
remembering our silly shapes.
In storybooks and in the reading nooks.
For I’ll always be a 90’s kid
© Writing Aspirations


I am good at acting ME and not pretending THEM.

I like delayed meetings,

missed opportunities,

cold shoulders,

blank faces,

messy trasses,

rude voices.

I like dark allys,

empty lobbies,

long pavements,

dirt roads,

dry leaves.

I like shivering bodies,

slow steps,

missed signs,

hissed talks,

sushed tongues.

I like wild jungles,

thorny shrubs,

green herbs.

I like open books,

without bookmarks

and my phone

without no call.

I like to see heights,

getting mightier.

I like sunset, it sinks my heart.

I love heartbreaks and I like

teary eyes and sudden laughs.

I like what the person my choices

have made me.. 

Because It makes me, ME. 

Shattered Mirror

Lying under the white sheet

staring at the plain, smooth roof.

Twirling a strand of my hair,

trying aimlessly to gather my thoughts.

Want to taste the tear, gushing through my eye.

Want to feel it chilling my burning cheek.

Wondering, where is the pivot point of my life.

Suddenly, a melody spreads in my room

And my flesh starts turning sour,

goosebumps are tantalizing the surface of my bare arm.

I remember I heard that melody with you.

When you had your best garb on.

When I deemed in you and your

ornamented lies.

When I lived decades in few seconds.

When I felt complete and healed for

the first time.

When I felt secure in your arms.

When I rejoiced in your little successes.

But then, the mirror of perfection got


You provided me with my worst nightmare “Aloneness” and you left.

and you left.

As you wanted peace.

That my soul failed to give you.

But you said, you were a chaos.

Yes, you were right there, you

were indeed, a chaos.

But you didn’t tell me that you

were a thief too.

You stole my peace with great dexterity.

You deprived me of my only possession.

May you not have it!

I am slipping out of the bed now,

Taking heavy steps, fastly.

Blocking my ears, calming the

tumultuous waves inside me.

I have stopped the melody

and I am going to fool my organs

once again.

Like I did, when I was with you.