🎵  Music, a phenomenon that manages to rapture your soul into believing you are one with the Universe. Where the puzzle that is life now leaps at you with answers. Where you feel the waves crash at you. Carrying away your doubts like the wind that plays with your hair. And the clouds seem like cotton candy in the deep blue sky. Where the trees guard your path in green. And the illusion that is hope wraps you up in smoke. Screening your flawed existence. Music, makes you taste life. The bittersweet nectar of life.🎵 



We look. We seek. We search. We ponder. We yearn for a psychic eye. A crystal ball that shows possibilities. Dreaming of maybes. Wishing for miracles. A bigger picture from a fish-eye’d view…What is the view? And out of the window-the sky was that view. LOOK. 

P. S

How many things we leave unsaid. Life comes with a ‘post script’ left unread.


Static pursuits With no returns. 

Flower beds of weeds 

Ready for decay. 

Yet, they bloom in dismay 

While we fret for yesterday, 

Today and tomorrow ;

Coloured life of black and white 

Time ticks and we still fall behind. 

Shame! How nature bathes in delight 

Even in her last hour of life. 

She lives another cycle; 

Man, however, dreams of miracles. 


The happy accident that is youth, is that we burst in light and we fade in shadows. We love like spontaneous combustion and we hate like bombs. Human forms of fire and smoke, we are the echoes of hope, life and death. Fireworks that schedule no timings. Serendipity’s own children. What keeps us alive? What ignites the spark? If love and life be actions, can breathing be the point of start? The world has gone dark… Where is the spark?


Stick figures,

Round figures,

Flat and square;

Clothed and bare.

Do you cringe and want to tear?

The skin that wraps you

While the human faces act like bears.


They haunt and hunt.

Make you hide and run.

Isolation is your hibernation

“Run baby run;”

The phantoms that lurk

And kill your fun.

The demons that possess mankind

And feed religion like breads and buns.


Abstract figures,

Void of identity.

I am what you make me.

I rise if you raise me

I fall if you pull me

I am a beauty.

I am ugly.

I am what you MAKE of me

An abstract existence

Made to live

You live as you kill me.

Words of a bullied kid, “SAVE ME”.

Pinterest (abstract art)