Thursday, April 21, 2011


As is the wont of banters,

There lies a feigned jocularity,

A truth lurked in the unspoken,

Jostling every word before its egress,

Choosing to stay behind,

Till the time apt..

As is the wont of banters,

The truth does slip now and then,

At the height of lightness,

Mired into the nonsensical verses,

Choosing to remain behind,

Till the time apt..

As is the wont of banters,

In a state between volition and spontaneity,

The truth is finally in the open,

Not received with shock,

Not evincing surprise,

Like the venial stone hitting a layer of water,

Creating ripples as it drowns in the depths,

Its wake slowly and steadily sends home the point..

And in one such moment,

He walked it out,

The blanket of friendship,

And what lay beneath,

Changing something,

Between them,


Friday, April 15, 2011

What is it then..


Everything that I have now,


Everything that I look forward to,

What is it then,

That went past,

That stayed behind,

Choosing so..

Mirage I call,

What I see ahead,

What is it then,

That I left behind,

Choosing so,

Or maybe not..

Encumbered with the present,

Lurching forward,

What is it then,

That I carry from the past,

Choosing so?

Certainly not..

Gamut of answers,

To each of the queries,


Yet the summing up,

Is very similar,