The cost of a lie

That night there was a shattering silence

Broken by faltering sighs

Your halting words

Tried to appease fate

A little too less and a little to late

And smiling like a venomous snake

Doubt slithered inside the gate

And now


There is a shattering silence

As you, alone, lay wide awake

When you know, you know

And when you can feel the sum total of life

Enshrined in a single heartbeat

When you can feel the drumming of your heart

Thundering in your ears

Pulsing throughout

A blood fire raging within you

Bursting to be let out

And yet

And yet

There is a calmness in your being

Like finding eternal peace

That is the day, my dear

When you can wake up and proclaim

That you are truly, hopelessly in love

Anything else just feels

A lot like love


A whole lot less.


What if we ran out of conversations one day

You know, the ones that keep us hooked late into the night?

The ones that make me crack up in delight?

The ones that make you beam at my very sight?

Would the world as we know it, still feel right?

Would the past talks of our future still shine bright?

What if we ran out of conversations one day

Would you still find yourself heading my way?

Diary Entry #3 : Confession

Dear Diary,

Last night was a restless night. There was a hailstorm outside and a different kind of storm raging inside my room. As I tossed and turned to find enough comfort to drift into sleep, I remember myself thinking ‘if tomorrow never came, itd be okay’.

However, like most of my wishes, I woke up today into a new morning. Groggy at first and then suddenly wide awake, as if a switch had been flicked on. In that moment I recalled a line I’d re-read a hundred times while devouring John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars. It went something like this – I fell in love the way you fall asleep : slowly, and then all at once.

No sooner had this line crossed my mind than I was hit with a pang of regret. So sharp that I found it difficult to breathe. For you see, all my life I’ve known a sad fact. I’m easy to love but equally easy to fall out of love with as well. I’m instantly likeable but probably insufferable in the long run. Or so I’ve been made to think. By people. People whom I cared for, possibly more than myself. People whom I admired and adored. People whom I could never love. Never love the way I deserve to love. You know, the unconditional kind? The kind which makes even hearbreaks feel worthwhile? The kind that brings you joy and sorrow in equal amount? The kind that makes you feel alive?

Yes, I think I’d like to feel that love once. Not someone else’s for myself. But my own. And then, if tomorrow never came, I think it’d really be okay.

Diary Entry #2 : Self Love

Dear Diary,

Today was an eventful day. Not in a way where a lot of things happened. But each one was more and more overwhelming.

A few hours in, and I couldn’t breathe. I was tired of running around in circles, trying to get everything done in time but getting nowhere. I forgot to take a breath! Or a break. I skipped lunch, as usual.

Then just when I had all but given up, staring blankly outside the window, the skies opened up and smiled. Have I ever told you about the magic of out-of-season rains?

They’re like little bursts of happiness, unexpected yet plenty. They are instant mood uplifters. You cannot help but smile as the first drop makes its way to the tip of your nose with a splat. They wash off all the grime, outside and within, and make you look at things anew.

The trees, the birds, the dogs and cats, all rejoice. And so, did I. I turned off my laptop, set aside my notebook, put my phone on silent and took a deep breath. I sat in silence with closed eyes, listening to the pitter patter and the thundering and rumbling outside.

And finally, I smiled. Because I decided to forgive myself today. I decided to apologize to myself today. I decided to love myself a little more today. So that I never forget to breathe again. So that I never forget it’ll all be okay in the end. So that I never forget to not always push myself too hard. So that I, can be just times. So that the next time the magic of out-of-season rains find me, I’d be ready to welcome it with open arms.


Never ask a poet

To describe you in a few words

For you see

We begin from a blank canvas

And create the perfect masterpiece

With layers of paint and oil

Catching the light as it falls on your face

At different times of the day

We build for you a background

Your most natural habitat

And then rest you amidst it

In the most striking of poses

Till you and the canvas

Are one

Never ask a poet

To describe you in a few words

For we wouldn’t know where to begin

Because art can neither be rushed

Nor confined to a few strokes

And you, my dear

Are poetry

Art in its purest form

Shall we dance, Mr. Clark?

You saw me swaying yesterday

And looked at me askance

There’s no music, you said

And threw me a questioning glance

But darling I was dancing

To the tune of wind chimes

To the rustling of the leaves

To the songs of nightingales

And to the gushing of the wind

There was music all around me

In more forms than one

And we’d have been dancing together

If you’d just bothered to feel

This poem was inspired by a quote I’d come across as a kid –

A question which sometimes drives me hazy : am I or are the others crazy?

Albert Einstein