WEPT

They won’t hurt you here, he said

But in the end, all she did was bled

And the stories, they continued to spread.

Posts were written, anger was displayed

Some agitated, some fervently prayed

But sadly, justice was denied and delayed.

They say that such things take time to end

They say that punishment may not make amends

But who’s to say - if they’ll break or we’ll bend.

The voices will get louder, anger will rise

But all of us are wondering, if this alone will suffice

For the fault lies in us, we must pay the price.

We may worship the deities, but inside us lies black

We may walk to temples, but its humanity we lack

And for all of that, we must face the flack.

This isn’t us, this is the story of a nation

This problem lies within, it’s our own creation

So let’s not treat it like a tumour, in isolation.

When we get to the root, we’ll see the rot

How impoverished we are, in mind and thought

And how much little we were really taught.

We all have crosses to bear, this is ours to accept

The fact that as a society, we’re morally inept

And somewhere close by, another girl has wept.

QUIET TRUE

I only speak when addressed

My thoughts, they live inside my head

But my words, they will never run a riot

Because essentially, my dear, I’m quiet.

People accuse me of being rude

But that’s just a demeanour I exude

My sentiment is large, my expression private

Because essentially, my dear, I’m quiet.

When they accuse me of boring, I’m unperturbed

They say describe yourself, I say ‘reserved’

And when asked why, I say my words are on diet

Because essentially, my dear, I’m quiet.

I have no desire to be the room’s cynosure

Neither the overwhelming urge for disclosure

However the little I say, it’ll never be trite

Because essentially, my dear, I’m quiet.

Uncaring I am not, nonchalant I may be

Brevity I display, not ungallantry

But no matter what my reason, you just won’t buy it

Because essentially, my dear, you’re not quiet.

COFFEE ISN'T EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA

I’ve been meaning to ask you a lot of questions

But somehow I’ve not been able to get there

Because my questions aren’t altogether logical

They lack pattern and land from anywhere

And then, you counteract all the madness I own

By conducting a very droll enquiry

It’s not like you have to get used to this

Because coffee isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

We may not get along, but we may as well do

For there’s a long journey we’ve got to cover

And no matter how much you take umbrage

You’ll find my opinions are like no other

I’m trying to be a little guarded but then

That’s just not how I am meant to be

It’s not like you have to get used to this

Because coffee isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

A shining example of method, you lack finesse

But then, that’s not an opinion you uphold

And when you say I’m not quite that mature

I can tell that you think I’m uncontrolled

It’s going to be difficult to make you see this

Because your viewpoint is a bit finicky

It’s not like you have to get used to this

Because coffee isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

THE VOICES IN MY HEAD

The voices, the voices in my head

You keep me alive, when I’m long since dead.

Still talking, still mocking

Still asking me questions my conscience finds shocking

Still shining the torch on dingy corners of my mind

Still screaming, still accusing when I choose to turn blind

Still taunting me with regrets, still opening wounds unexposed

Still making me guilty of cases long closed.

The voices, the voices in my head

You keep me alive, when I’m long since dead.

Still giggling, still laughing

Still childlike, before the world came down crashing

Still kind, still benevolent, still looking firmly north

Still reassuring, when I passionately go forth

Still being my friend in need, when I tend to falter

Still shaking up my core when my I’m an emotional defaulter.

The voices, the voices in my head

You keep me alive, when I’m long since dead.

Shake me, debase me

Kill me, embrace me

For life and death, we’ll always be wed

The voices, the voices in my head.

THIS IS YOU, YOU ARE MAY

It’s May

Hot and humid and disorienting

I hallucinate and that’s comforting

Of beds of ice and igloos in the sky

Of winds gone berserk and thunderstorms in July

Of sail boats and chiffon and all things Kygo

Of comic books and giggles, childhood and mango

And just when my imagination begins to sway

The air conditioner groans, we’re back to May.

May, you’ll do good to remember

You’re neither June nor December

But there’s something about your clime

That evokes both love and crime

And just like the disparity that’s Bombay

This is You, you are May.

It’s May

Steeped in slumber, sweat and slackening

Yet my febrile brain has thoughts maddening

Of muslins and margaritas and streets of marigold

Of love that’s unbridled and kisses uncontrolled

Of shaping the day like a potter without a plan

Of throwing caution to the winds, like a young catamaran

And just when my imagination begins to sway

The air conditioner groans, we’re back to May.

May, you’ll do good to remember

You’re neither June nor December

But there’s something about your clime

That evokes both love and crime

And just like the disparity that’s Bombay

This is You, you are May.