Hey, Hello or Hi!

…I deferred my literature in a hope to find you.
Like a Monday morning tide
It has been almost 3 days since our last collide.

Hoping for a four day rule instead of three
Like Ted in that episode of HIMYM
For him it was the yellow, here it was The White.

I shouldn’t have looked away,
With the rhyme of Chivas, now it’s a heavy plight
All that’s left is a picture of you
and a few adjectives, with which I now describe:

Tranquil: That would be your smile
Caring: Would be the motherly shadow of your hair
Spring: The sound of your voice
Alluring: That glare in your eye

Believe me! It was easier when I was younger,
From the notions that today define me and my countrymen
If we were in 2009 or 2010,
I would have asked you about your favorite book or author
and then quoted it in this very literature to begin.

Wonder what stopped me from asking what I should have
Wonder what made you say what you did at that first place
Wonder or Wonder not!
If you still have that paper, give it glimpse
May be you decide to cut this chase.

Not that I have to hear from you, no magic, Do what’s right.
Forget the Stars.
but there’s a story in my head and a literature I want to write

Hey, Hello or Hi!
If you are to call; or if you get to read this at all.
Help me complete the description of an angel, an angel in white.


I’m damn bad at writing things.

I’m damn bad at writing things down; but guess what, you make me talk.
I’m not confident of the words I utter; but guess what, you make me knock.
Knock; at your red door, cautious of your bubble that would burst any instant
Let’s take that random late night run, a moon light walk.

Walk like we took at that bridge of Clarke Quay
Not sure about the shots of Mount Gay rum, one two or three
Three, was the number of dates we went on.
We should have done a coffee or may be just a little green tea.

Tee like woods would, back in 2009
Soar like an eagle without whiskey or wine
Wine is what we should have the next time we meet
Tea,Wine, Whiskey, Rum; with you everything is a treat.

Musings is what I utter and what you read
For a change this is my music, this is my creed

I’m bad at writing things but with you, I feel like I’m on weed.

An Evening Grass Dew

As I slogged my way out from our rusty elevator of the west lobby
The aroma of ‘an evening grass dew’ enchanted my senses
It threw me into a flashback of Assam
Where my evenings were spent playing Cricket or at the bench with geeky girls on lenses

The dusk were almost antiquated in winters
Not that it stopped us from desperately frisking for a cricket ball lost in the mighty woods
The sunny days were spent dreaming at school
While the moon light nights walking around in hoods

I was part of a dancing troop formed at the local community club
Swaying to the tunes of Bollywood in an open ground, even in rain
I also did try to transcend myself to a literature communion
No matter how hard I tried, the teacher pronounced me useless, “all in vain”

Now that I’m lost in the corporate forest of a connected world
I recall I always planted my way in the woods
Whether it be biking around, acting as if engaged in extreme sports
Or trekking the hill behind the C-11 apartment where the zebra patched dog always stood

I’m not in touch with any of my friends or the geeky girls I flirted with
but I remember, I had a precious few
with Facebook, LinkedIn, WhatsApp, Twitter to connect
I really miss that aroma of an evening grass dew

There is an unknown reason why I’m still here not raising my voice,
nor am I standing up for the fight
perhaps, because I think I’m savvy, I get the gist of life
But I never understood why these thoughts only hit you at 11pm on a random weekday night.

38th Parallel

Father! I Killed them all.
It was the metal bullet; they fell like leaves of an eucalyptus tree
Tell me if this is a treason?
Only if I knew they were mothers, they had husbands and she had a son

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

Why are they enemies?
On a Maru they all lay dead, they had a Hanok too, just like ours
In her house, I found a partially consumed bibimbap
Encapsulated within a layer of blood, probably from my never ending bullet trap

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

I want to fight them, like you did against the men from the East
I do not understand why we need freedom from our own people
They speak my language and sing my song
Like our city Busan, isn’t that similar to where they are from?

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

When I threw the metal ball
I was awe-struck on the magnitude of honor I had achieved
a mother broke into pieces while holding her son in her arm
while his father lay dead with my bullet on his rice farm

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

Am’I to burn to hell
Am’I to play the winning drum
Those eyes are haunting me, they remind me of jamaeui
I think it’s time, the water drops from the leafy dewy

I’m not as brave as you nor am’I strong
Before I give up, please pray for me, so God accepts my song

Father! I Killed them all.
with a gun and a grenade, they fell like a Wooden doll.

Yet another Valentines Day

It’s 11:19 PM; I just concluded a con call with our Global Connectivity Team
Not that I dread these night calls, I don’t savor them either
I need that shot of Jack, few rocks; refute this heart to take a breather
He’s going to pulp again; soon stirring up
to an evil scheme.

He’s getting old, pardon him – impatient he may be
Only once could he celebrate this auspicious day with an awe-inspiring glow
but since that April – astray the charm, altered his flow
Now he encores once in a blue, either in the streets of Bu Vien
or Clarke Quay

Countless times have I not tried to distract him from this philein
Countless times have I not asked him to take a leap of faith
But wait!
“…it’s the right thing to do”, once said
the One Tree Hill Quinn

Not that his piece of literature will alter the course of the day,
Nor will it make him feel he’s not alone
They say only the heart knows the unknown
and rest will remain unaltered on the
streets of Bombay

This is yet another piece tray, Yet another Friday night blue
Yet another Valentines Day, Yet another one
Without You!

First Post of 2015 – Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey

So let me blame it on work and my travel schedule; I haven’t had time to blog since 2015 dawned on us.

Whether it be the smash of a raw bourbon or the glitter of your white
Whether it be the 50 shades of grey or that of Singapore

To the best of Pep & Rash, To the best of  Leo Tolstoy
I stand corrected on my art of literature, it’s incomplete without him for sure.

His Aura is not personified by it’s quality but by his quantity
Some would argue and some would debate

There are 3,30,235 types of alcohol in the world,
But then, sometimes all you need is one.

My Best friend is from Tennessee; yours?

He’s not an Indian nor is he from People’s Republic of China, although I do secretly wish he was from North Korea; we could have talked about the latest Sony hack.

He’s sour, not that I dislike him for that but his presence is not appreciated by many. Some dislike him for simply being too common.

Much older than me, 7 to be precise, he has this craftsmanship of being genuine in his preaching.

He’s witty, humorous and humble; however his humility is always proportional to amount of time I spend with him.

Not sure if he’s member of fitness first or pure fitness but he does have quite a flawless physique.

He only graduated with 40% in his finals; I don’t mind that, as long as there’s no adulteration involved.

He’s the drumkick of my bass; he doesn’t weigh in Kilograms or pounds but liters.

He’s an amazing wing man; however his presence does drives solitude.

He’s the Jack of my Titanic problems and a Daniel with a wand to my voldemort fears.

All I hope is some day he’ll wake me up and ask me by my name.