Wednesday, September 12

We the Living


Andrei Taganov died. He pulled the trigger at 6.30 in the morning and I cried at his death.

I could see his death coming as he had ensured the safety of Leo and Kira. The calm of decision landed on his face and a smile so serene that I fell in love with him again. He was in love and his smile was the monument of it.

However. Deep in my heart an anguish burnt. I could not understand a simple fact that people who live by the very ideals they believe in – why do they have to die. Why does the immoral world, without any standards and dreams get to kill people who matter? A death that is proclaimed as a heroic act but somewhere it’s a heinous crime in the hands of humanity.

This death was not a sin committed by Andrei by the people who brought him to his knees. People who take joy in breaking people down to their very shreds and then move on to break another. Until when should I lay low and see them kill every one of my kins. My kins in thoughts and soul.

Should I wait for the killers to come to my door some day with a smile on their face and knife hidden under their shirts? A knife that I will never see coming. It will be well veiled under the sweet words of concern and understanding they show. I will break or will I not?

I would like to believe that I am unbreakable. Vulnerable, but unbreakable. Andrei died because he could not fight for his love and beliefs. I can. I will be living for my cause, win each of my fights and move on. I will carry Andrei forward with Kira and Leo.



PS: Andrei Taganov is a character from We the Living by Ayn Rand

Monday, August 6

Finding Oasis


It’s always about finding our oasis
Oasis called home
Filled with love and laughter
We fight wars, and move on
Lives go on to find that solace
Where I rest from the scorching sun

Sun burning our backs and faces –
Thirst popping up at unexpected times –
Shadows of ghastly nights
Obscuring me from wrath
Fire of sun and my angst
Searching my oasis of love

Someday, I will find my oasis
And I won’t have to move on...

Wednesday, February 14

Time & Life

At the mercy of time
I spent my days running
Dictated by a watch’s hand
Wishing for a poet’s day
I get older by the minute
Hoping for hopes of after years
Losing the life in my hand

I live on handouts of time
A life that by no means is mine
Second-hand me in first hand time


Pic Courtesy: Awais Kazi

Wednesday, January 10

Simply Simple

When our knives were blunt
And no one stabbed in the backs
When hearts were sweeter
And no one had that mouth
When pinkies were promises
And not meant to be broken
When fingers were to hold on
And not to showcase
When hearts were blessed
And no one stole my joys
Come back my life that was simply simple

And no knives were so sharp