Something I can BRAG about!!

Happy to tell you that two of my poems have found a place in the lovely BRAG literary magazine published from Manchester, UK 😊

Thank you BRAG team ❤️

Get your copy @ bragwriters.com

Mountains

 

In sketch pen

Goddess for Nine Days

Mixed media on A5 paper

Original work

Enough Is Enough

 

Even Mahatma Gandhi would have lost his cool today. 

#rapeculture

Medium- FC Pitt pens on A5 paper

Color Version in FC Polys

Nothingness

 The joy of nothingness!

In FC Pitt Pens

Hell- Fire

 

There are many pressing issues nowadays like massive virus outbreak, Indo-China border tussle, unemployment, suicides, floods, economic slowdown and what not. Sadly, we are invested in scripted political dramas that TV channels play out day and night. We need to understand distractions and prioritize our issues.

Who smoked how much weed and who got into a stupid tweet war with whom are ways to snatch our attention from government’s failures in core matters. We need to see that a hellfire is raging around while we are enjoying it as if it is a holy fire.

You Must Be Around: Eighty Poems on Love, Life and Longing - Revised Edition!

Check out the revised edition of my poetry collection

You Must Be Around: Eighty Poems on Love, Life and Longing 

now available at a reduced price of Rs 99 (Kindle) in a new cover edition! Available on Amazon worldwide!

                                            

With thoughtfully crafted words and lovely imagery, these eighty beautiful poems on love, life and longing will touch your heart and soothe your soul.

The first section, ‘Love’ describes the ideas about love, and feelings. The second one, ‘Life’ deals with aspects such as nature, death, rebirth and Karma. The third one ‘Longing’ is about pain and heart-breaks.

The Linear Tide- My New Book is Out!

I am so glad to tell you that my new novel 'The Linear Tide' is out (e-book)!

The unique story of a simpleton Avni, an erudite Manav and a compassionate Anurag, 'The Linear Tide' is out on Amazon India!

When Avni meets an erudite and loving ad-man Manav, he splits open a new world of knowledge, literature, art and creativity in front of her making her realize how philistine she had been. Anurag, a vet who also enters her life guides her into a world of compassion, even though he is fighting his own demons and she finds herself trying hard to save his life from collapsing. Their lives then take a strange turn when the ghost of the past returns and she decides to make an unusual choice.

The story, through many other interesting characters, also explores some relationships which are perfect in their own peculiar way.

Do check out. I hope you will enjoy reading it!

Handcuffs

Love, did I tell you that
I hand-picked each syllable of
The verses you tossed at me
In your fits of affection,
They still sing in my playlist
I never hush them up

Love, did I tell you that,
The hues you so loved
Are trapped in my knitting pins
On long haunting nights,
That half-done crimson sweater
Still comforts me to sleep

Love, did I tell you that,
The cotton socks we bought
In matching fluorescent colors
In flying pups, giggling kittens print
On the New Year flash sale once
Still warm my feet on coldest days

Love, did I tell you that,
You flew off but I am still caged
With my heart and soul tied
With handcuffs only I can see

*

We are often handcuffed by things that seem simple and innocuous. They affect us emotionally in many ways. 

Revive

I penned this poem years ago. Revival is not only inevitable but it is necessary as well. Everything stagnant rots. Shedding off emotional baggage is an important step of this process.

गुफ्तगू

नीम  शब्  बेहोश चाँद  और एक ग़मज़दा  दिल 

आज  ज़िन्दगी  को  गुफ्तगू  करने  बुलाया  है ...

Lockdown

अपनी छोटी सी मुट्ठी में एक टुकड़ा धूप पकड़ती 

अपनी ललचायी आंखों से अपनी भाइयों को निहारती 

उस गेंद को उनसे ऊपर उछालना चाह्ती हुई बच्ची

वो मैं ही तो थी 

अपनी थकी हुई माँ के साथ चूल्हे के पास सिकती 

शाम होते ही खेल छोड़ घर भागती वापस आती  

अपनी दादी के साथ मंदिर सत्संग में बैठी हुई 

वो मैं ही तो थी 

स्कूल में सहेलियों के साथ पीछे की बेंच पर, धीमे हंसती 

घर का फ़ोन नंबर मांगने वालों को शिकायत का डर देती 

बूढ़े टेलर से अपनी स्कर्ट को बार बार और नीचे सिलवाती हुई 

वो मैं ही तो थी 

एक ही रास्ते से चुन्नी लपेटे चुपचाप कॉलेज आती जाती

बनारसी साडी में शर्माते हुए चाय समोसे की ट्रे लाती 

एक अजनबी से ख़ुशी से सात जनम जुड़ती हुई 

वो मैं ही तो थी 

अपने बेटे में अपने अधूरे सपने छुपाने वाली 

अपनी बेटी के लिए चुन चुन दहेज़ जोड़ने वाली 

खुद को भूल सबकी पसंद को पूरा करती हुई 

वो मैं ही तो थी 

वो खिड़की, वो मंदिर, वो पीछे की बेंच 

वो सीधा रास्ता, वो टेलर, वो रसोई

मैंने तो हर तरह के 'lockdown' देखे हैं

तुम्हारे लिए ये सिर्फ एक नया शब्द है

जिसने तुम्हे परेशान कर दिया है 

पर मैंने जाने कितनी सदियों जिसे हर रोज़ जिया है 

Philosophy Series Sketch No. 05: Arthur Schopenhauer

This work is done in HB and pencil on A5 paper.

This is the final sketch of my Philosophy Series. He is my favorite philosopher and one of the very few western thinkers who understood and weaved Eastern philosophy into his works. He was an exponent of Vedas and Upanishads. Also, I think his aphorisms are really good. He was a pure vegetarian and an animal lover. The name of pet poodle was ‘Atma’ a Sanskrit word for ‘Soul’.

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 –1860) was a German philosopher. He is best known for his 1818 work The World as Will and Representation, wherein he characterizes the phenomenal world as the product of a blind and insatiable metaphysical will. Building on the transcendental idealism of Immanuel Kant, Schopenhauer developed an atheistic metaphysical and ethical system that rejected the contemporaneous ideas of German idealism.

His work has been described as an exemplary manifestation of philosophical pessimism. Though his work failed to garner substantial attention during his lifetime, Schopenhauer has had a posthumous impact across various disciplines, including philosophy, literature, and science. His writing on aesthetics, morality, and psychology have influenced many thinkers and artists. Schopenhauer saw his philosophy as a continuation of that of Kant, and used the results of his epistemological investigations, that is, transcendental idealism, as starting point for his own. As a consequence of his monistic philosophy, Schopenhauer was very concerned about the welfare of animals. For him, all individual animals, including humans, are essentially the same, being phenomenal manifestations of the one underlying Will. The word "will" designated, for him, force, power, impulse, energy, and desire; it is the closest word we have that can signify both the real essence of all external things and also our own direct, inner experience. For this reason, he claimed that a good person would have sympathy for animals, who are our fellow sufferers.

Schopenhauer died peacefully on September 21, 1860, in his apartment in Frankfurt at Schöne Aussicht 16. He was 72.

Death Of Conscience

I read about the elephant last night and ever since there is an unsettling eerie feeling within me. I am pained, saddened, ashamed and disturbed in equal measures by what the locals in Kerala’s Malappuram did to that poor pregnant elephant who was scrounging for food. Who on earth, in his right mind and with even an iota of conscience could do a vile thing as to feed it pineapple laced with crackers. The crackers burst into her mouth and she died standing in water. The attempts to rescue her went futile probably she was too heartbroken to ever trust humans again. 

This incident is not the only one and not will be the last one but it is another noose that has tightened its grip on our collective humanity and conscience. I am way too depressed even as tears fill my eyes as I write this, I demand harshest punishment for those monsters and a radical change in animal protection laws in India. Sadly, the priorities of Indian government are can make this seem like a very distant dream. We are currently obsessed with changing the name of everything- cities, stadiums, roads, or even the country- from India to Bharat after the great king Bharat, a step closer Hinduism. In the whole drama that plays on the national stage along with many other pointless ones, we have forgotten that it is collective ethics and morals along with a robust justice system that make a country great, and not just assuming the name of a king once called great in some mythology books. Real life needs attention and care and more respect than mythology.

It was a gruesome murder not only of an animal but of humanity too. Human stupidity and cruelty is boundless. It is a shame. Sadly, TV channels, instead of raking up this ghastly issue to shake the people’s conscience, thought it more important to please, we all know whom.

Read@ https://bit.ly/36UyWKC 

भूख (Hunger)

बदला बदला सा है लग रहा वो शक़्स क्यों  

के भूख नहीं जानती तहज़ीब-ो-अदब कोई 

शहर से जा रहा वो छाले लिए पैरों में 

के उसे बुला रहा गांव का टूटा घर कोई 

Last night I saw a very disturbing video of a migrant laborer eating a dead dog on a highway in Rajasthan. He must have been terribly hungry and destitute. This is the story of our laborers who leave their villages for cities to earn bread & butter. Cities have proved them wrong; there is no love for them. Employers have not paid them their dues and government is busy in blame games. The poor migrants are going though a very rough patch. That video shook me somewhere deeply and these poems came out. I applaud people who are helping them. At the end of the day, it is people supporting each other only.

The translation –

Why does that person seem different these days?

For hunger knows not of any manners & etiquettes

He is leaving the city with blisters on his feet

For that tattered hut in his village is calling him

Caravan

I keep your warmth tangled in my tresses

Like the wispy clouds entangle the moon

Trapping its silvery halo in dewy softness,

Like a seed within some fleshy ripe fruit

I carry your gaze in my wide open eyes

In them it quietly floats instead of sleep

Like mist over two far-off mountain tops

Like long dead stars on a placid lake

I keep your smell filled in my breath

Laden with old woods, untamed seas

Moss covered rocks on soaked earth

Like a mouthful of winter breeze

I keep your touch locked in my fist

In my palms that I stare night & day

Guessing which line may lead to you

Like a traveler trailing his caravan

That he knows well too, has long gone…

Philosophy Series Sketch No. 04 : Baruch Spinoza

Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677) was a Dutch philosopher of Portuguese Sephardi origin. One of the early thinkers of the Enlightenment and modern biblical criticism including modern conceptions of the self and the universe. He came to be considered one of the great rationalists of 17th-century philosophy. He was born a Jew but at 23, was expelled from his community and shunned by his family for his philosophy and revolutionary ideas. He was a trained lens maker and polisher and earned his income from this craft.Spinoza's magnum opus, 'The Ethics' was published posthumously in the year of his death. The work opposed Descartes' philosophy of mind–body dualism, and earned Spinoza recognition as one of Western philosophy's most important thinkers. Spinoza argues that the way to 'blessedness' or 'salvation' for each person involves an expansion of the mind towards an intuitive understanding of God, of the whole of nature and its laws. In other words, philosophy for Spinoza is like a spiritual practice, whose goal is happiness and liberation.

RIP Irrfan Khan

An artist never dies. He just moves to a different world🙏
Rest in peace the versatile and inimitable Irrfan Khan. You are in a better place now. You will always be alive through your work in cinema🌼

Self-Portrait

Heal

An injured and depressed Mother Nature is healing herself; Water is clearer and grass is greener. Good for her that the dark forces and demons are locked up for some time. This is a conceptual artwork. 

Medium- Soft pastels and FC Pitt Pens on A5 pastel matt paper.

Simone de Bouviere

Philosophy Series Sketch No. 03 : Simone De Beauvoir  

This work is done in HB, 3B and 10B pencils on 75 gsm A4 paper.

Simone De Beauvoir (Seemon-Day-Bu-Wa) 1908–1986, was a French writer, intellectual, existentialist philosopher, political activist, feminist and social theorist. She had a significant influence on both feminist existentialism and feminist theory. Her 1949 essay 'The Second Sex', is considered a pioneering work of the modern feminism movement. She was the partner of philosopher Jean Paul Sartre.

'The Second Sex' is De Beauvoir’s nearly 1000-page critique of patriarchy and the second-rate status granted to women throughout history. Now reckoned as one of the most important and earliest works of feminism, at the time of its publication The Second Sex was received with great controversy, with some critics characterizing the book as pornography and the Vatican placing the work on the church's list of forbidden texts.

De Beauvoir died in Paris on April 14, 1986, at the age of 78. She shares a grave with Sartre in the Montparnasse Cemetery.

Dream

World has everything for those who dream and keep hope afloat. This conceptual work conveys that no matter how dark it is, even if time has lost its pace and days and nights pass like sand in fist, even if dust on the windowpanes make it difficult to look far ahead, one can still dream. Be it a desire to be in snow capped mountains or in a quiet country cottage, of a river in a pine forest or lying under starry open sky, just remove the dust of hopelessness for the fire of hope gives light and warmth from within.

Medium: Soft Pastels and White gel Pen on Black Card paper

Nietzsche

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844-1900) was a German philosopher, cultural critic, composer, poet, philologist, and scholar of Latin and Greek whose work has exerted a profound influence on modern intellectual history.

In the Western philosophy tradition, Nietzsche's writings have been described as the unique case of free revolutionary thought, that is,revolutionary in its structure and problems, although not tied to any revolutionary project.

This work is done in HB, 3B and 10B pencils on 75 gsm A4 paper.

Bertrand Russell

Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) was an eminent British philosopher and is considered one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th century. He was both a brilliant mathematician, a logician and a moralist. He popularized the philosophy and was a left-wing supporter. Russell was also a prolific writer. Medium- HB and 3B pencils

Ocean

'The Ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet, and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none' 

--The Sea is History by Derek Walcott

This work is done in Camlin Soft Pastel on black Brustro A5 Pastel Matt Paper.

A Pastel Portrait

This is a soft pastel portrait of my friend.

This work is done in Derwent pastel Pencils on toned Brustro A5 pastel Matt paper.

Phantom- A Short Story

“There you are, standing here again!” I screamed at his face with eyes skewed in disgust but he stood there nonchalantly like nothing affected him, like he was a fossil carved in stone- rigid and unalterable.

“You know how I feel. Sometimes these nights make me so miserable that I get drunk on my sadness but you never bother. Even when I ask you just stand there watching my misery with a detachment that makes me feel so helpless,” I screamed at him but no words escaped his pursed lips. A silence spread in the room like fog and the cool breeze outside swaying the branches and making them dance could do nothing to calm me down. I blankly watched my silk curtains rustle like dried leaves. I was burning alone in my room after a long tiring day at office. He always said I loved setting myself on fire and that I would spill the milk just to have something to cry upon. I detested him for that but he would be adamant, coldly silently detachedly adamant.

“Remember how that hag would humiliate me?” I screamed at him.

“I do. She would call you stupid, said you were no good and that any investment on your education was a sheer waste of your father’s money,” he said.

“And when she slapped me twice, overlooked me at the school’s annual function and made me stand outside the class?” I said with a sadness seeping inside me like dampness in a wall.

“Yes, and she jeered at you and even made the class students do so. In that annual function, she pushed her own son onto the stage and got your performance cancelled,” he said.

“See, how much humiliation I had to suffer. I would not brood if there were any fault of mine but there was none. I was just a child of twelve and I needed support and love from my class teacher but no, that witch would hate me with all her heart. Oh, it makes me so depressed,” I muttered with my shoulders dropping down like a huge penalty was imposed upon me. He remained quiet.

“Remember, when at my cousin’s wedding that uncle would touch me lasciviously with innuendos? Ah! Till date I feel a surge of hatred towards him,” I cried cutting the thin veil of silence before it could grow thicker.

“Yes. I remember everything, nothing ever escapes my record. That uncle would stare at you with hungry feral eyes. He even gave you a long unwanted hug,” he said.

“I could have done something different. Couldn’t I?” I asked him, trying to flutter off my tears ready to rush out like a rowdy unchained pet.

“Weren’t you only fifteen? You did what you thought was best by your experience that time. You avoided him like plague and told your father about him. He sensed all that and didn’t come near you. May be you scared the hell out of him,” he said but without a tinge of sympathy in his tone.

“I did but that incident still makes my blood boil. He shouldn’t have done that,” I thumped the table with my fist.

“But he did and it is a fact,” he replied.

“I do not like recalling that wedding at all,” I grieved.

“Then why do you ask me to repeat it?” he asked.

“Because you are here right in front of me with all the indelible records and memories,” I cried. 

“Remember, when my first love left me, how badly I wanted to hang myself? I felt as if it was the end of the world. I never felt so cheap, so disgusted in my life. I loved him truly but he just wanted to have fun,” tears rolled down my cheeks.

“He did play with you, bandied your name around and made acerbic remarks about your looks but you moved on after he ditched you,” He said.

“I could have moved on earlier too but I was being an emotional fool. The bastard took me for a ride,” I lamented.

“You could but you did what a girl in her early twenties could have done at that point. You showed grace and accepted that he didn’t desire you. A quiet break up had followed,” he said

“Whenever I recall time spent with him I feel like I should have taken a befitting revenge. He dumped me like I was a mere piece of junk. I still want him to suffer; I know him, he must be dating another girl and I wish she does what he did to me” I let a curse out under my breath.

“You always ask me about him and I always repeat how he ditched you in love and that you were just a step away from an emotional breakdown,” He said.

“So what if you have to repeat? Let me figure out how I could have taught him a lesson,” I snapped back.

“But what is the logic? Even if you do figure out, you don’t know where the hell he is now and with whom. You find a pleasure in revisiting your green wound that you do not wish to stitch and I bear the blame of the pain you inflict upon yourself,” he said.

“Oh, come on,” I rolled my eyes and lay down on my cozy bed. I was alone with him for I liked to summon him in privacy, usually late post suppers so that no one could disturb our conversations.

“Let me be honest, I feel like leaving you forever. Understand that I need to rest in my depth and your life is full of beautiful days that are yet to come. However, I am tied to you and cannot escape. I have to come whenever you summon me,” he said with a mild irritation.

“Why are you so annoyed?” I was curious.

“Because I am simply fed up of repeating the same incidences over and over like a deranged parrot. These are painted upon the canvas of your life and will never change. If you find them ugly, change your angle of looking at your canvas. Only you can do that,” he said.

“But I have much blank canvas left,” I argued.

“Then why do you keep brooding about the small patch you find a bit off color. Haven’t I told you, it can never be repainted or modified in any way? You did your best but now after years you find a million new faults,” he said. For some moments, we sat in an intense silence pregnant with bitterness.

“My first boss stole my ideas. Remember?” I asked with a heavy heart like I was chanting a requiem.

“He did. Later he presented them by his name and won a promotion, kicking you out of his way,” he said.

“I could have told the management,” I stated firmly.

“But you didn’t. You chose the most feasible option; you could not afford to cross him at that precarious time,” he said.

“I mean things could have been much different. What do you feel?”

“I feel like banging my head against a wall. Sadly, I have no head to bang in the first place. What am I after all? I am just a spirit, a phantom of your past. I hold all the secrets in my bosom, like young lovers in theirs. All the past is stacked within me and I lie as dormant and still as skeletons inside graves till you beckon me and I appear with all that which has been there but now it isn’t, and will never be. You explore me every night to find something new; you feel the same pain, go through the same agony many times for pain is the drug you have got addicted to. You indeed are drunk on it. Your blessings outnumber your hurts yet you ask me to retell all those incidences every night and then rue yourself to sleep,” he said stoically.

“Just shut up!” I yelled. You make my life pathetic. I cry every time I recall all that which I never wanted; all that which could have been so different. All this past of mine is like that aftertaste of a vomit- disgusting but hard to define. I could have handled things differently. If only I were a bit wise, if only I were a little cunning, if only I were more outspoken. Oh! Phantom of my past, tell me why do you come and make my life so wretched?” I wailed but he stood unperturbedly.

“Tell me, who summons me every night?” he asked looking at me in the eye.

I found myself grappling for an answer.

***

Haruki Murakami

. 

Haruki Murakami is a famous writer from Japan

This work is done in Derwent soft pastel pencils on a Brustro toned A5 paper.

It's World Class!

A weird thought popped up last evening while I was doing something entirely different. Now, let us suppose that this whole world is a classroom and all the countries or continents are students. This is what I think they all are likely to be.

USA- The super rich ones who commute to college in their own expensive vehicles, are obese from overeating junk and nonstop partying and do not acknowledge anyone else in the class. Not very good in studies because they are busy with all sorts of relationship troubles so they have tutors who help them mug up everything. Usually, they have dysfunctional families or their parents are uber cool too, just like them.

Jesus, I need coke and a burger, a Limo and of course a shrink!

Canada- These are upper middle and very friendly. They accept everyone’s friendship, invite everyone to their parties and apologize for mistakes made in the past.

Satsriakal world! Please come in!

UK- Are shrewd and give much attention to detail but are also reserved and discriminating for they focus only on their own target. Have a tough time mixing well with others for they consider the rest of the class to be a petri dish of germs. They usually wear formal or semi formal clothes of more or less the same dull colors to college. They also take up any seat they fancy and refuse to budge.

We really apologize and request you to pardon our impertinence and not consider it offensive so to speak but have we been introduced yet by any chance?

China- These are the shrewdest of all. These students are tech experts and excel in math and computers. They are also very secretive about their motives and are always smiling to keep you confused. They have voracious appetites and can eat anything when they are hungry.

I know what you did last summer!

Africa- These have arrived to college from rural areas and their forefathers were poor, exploited and worked very hard. They are honest, rugged and have certain rawness in them. They have a fire to move ahead in life.

World is a jungle, be a lion not a wildebeest

France- These are the most stylish of the lot. They have rich but busy parents. These students often suffer from depression or anxiety issues. They have a great taste in food and wear awesome perfumes to college but dislike mixing too much and can be painfully curt at times. Also, they eat only well presented food with complicated names and secretly love it when people pronounce those wrong!

Mercy, monsieur but you look stupid in the dress you copied from us

Italy- These are the ones who keep the whole class entertained. Boys flirt usually and girls giggle for no reason. They are not very serious about their future. Also, they come from old reputed families and love to narrate the stories of their very powerful forefathers that no one is interested in anymore yet they can’t stop.

Wanna go for a pizza date? We will have some pasta too!

Russia- These are those tough guys who occupy the back benches. They are laconic, sturdy and are formidable foes but do not disturb anyone purposelessly. Some people accuse them of selling drugs but no one has courage to ask them directly. They are great chess players and their silent gaze can be terrifying.

No reason to stay is a good reason to go

Saudi Arab- These students usually bribe teachers with all the fine things to buy good grades, are very businesslike and brutal. They come from very rich but closed and conservative patriarchal business backgrounds. They love to flaunt their cars and pets.

We will buy you

Germany- Toppers who are amazing in math and science. They are studious, hardworking and hate small talk. These have a dark sense of humor and to see them giggling is a rare sight. Also, these are great with machinery and can fix any issue in that area. They are extremely philosophical as well.

Kant you mind your own business?

Pakistan- These are the shabby ones whose body odor repels others, are rowdy, hypocrites and often end up embarrassing themselves. They often pass nasty comments on women and get insulted yet are unbothered by the humiliation. They always borrow stuff from other students but hardly ever return the items. These are the most hated students in the whole class.

Can you lend us some money??

Bhutan- These are helpful, always smiling and studious students who avoid fight at all costs. They often recite peace and brotherhood prayers yet do not mix much with others in the class. They love to sit alone in gardens and are happiest when left to themselves.

Eat, Love , Pray

India- These are the most talkative ones who love to mix up, invite others over lunch and offer lovely hospitality. These students are skilled in music and arts. Usually, there is much potential but they make silly mistakes because of wrong priorities and waste much of their time on fruitless activities. Most of their class projects are copied from other students. They love street food, movies and cricket and can be very emotionally volatile for they form attachments way too fast. They are the agony aunts of the class and love to dole out unwanted free advice.

Tell us about yourself, your parents, family, pets, neighbors and everything about others that you know!

Japan- These have everything, from stationery to notebooks in small sizes. They study a lot for long hours, never miss a single class hence are often sleep deprived.

We have a miniature version of that object you have but it can be seen only under a microscope

Antarctica- These are the most aloof ones, are unfriendly and often absent. Teachers visit their places to find out what’s wrong with them.

Who the hell are you?

 :)