You fell asleep in my car.

Voices that shatter the mirrors that matter, oxfordian commas, and gullible antique furniture shop owners. 

Loose change turning into a rhythmic flow of observation, i look into more pressing mattwrs like my own desolation. 

I wasn’t raised like a warrior or a priest, i was raised like a thinker, a lover of the breeze. 

I look into your eyes feinting a sense of prosperity, your problems are a beauty, you reach to my cupboard and bring the wrong choice.

Drinking wine in a brandy glass, you’re eating at me like a molotov. Look me in the face and challenge me to a race. Look at my teeth and tell me what you need. 

He spoke with a gravelly voice. He told me he’d break my bones. Im a wordsmith looking for inspiration, he gave me 8 reasons for flight. She gave me one to fight. 
I was looking for the key all my life.   But the door, it was already open.  Thats just something a poet said. 

The reality is that he owns the key. And the door is boarded up with 10inch thick stainless steel.


Anatomical anthems of analogous anomalies 

The world spins on its axis slowly and steadily you know it will continue to. Why though? Why does it spin why not shimmy or shake, I hope someday we find out, find out the truth of our existance for fucks sake. 

Its scary isnt it? Being part of an evolutionary process that pays no attention to individuals. We’re all meant for the end, all we’re meant to do is eat, sleep, reproduce and leave. 

How can that be all? How can i one day cease to exist? How is it possible that one day I just stop. 
The finality of it scares me. 
And what happens after me? What happens once im gone? Will Kings Xi ever win the league? Will my grandkids ever rule the earth? What happens when the sun collapses on itself. 
Mid life crisis. Give me a fucking break. 

Ive got a pre youth crisis. 

I ache therefore i am

Its funny how i feel good about reading the hitchhikers guide every time i pick the books up. I feel bad about feeling good about it. And mostly i feel good about feeling bad about feeling good about it.

How can one writer almost but not quite entirely change everything you stand for. Give you a new lease both creatively and generally.

Mr. Douglas Adams gave me 42 reasons to doubt the salmon of life. This post is for him. And in his memory. The world will never have a more lyrically and satirically sound comic. I am greatful to you Mr. adamas you made me realize the importance of my towel

From noida with acne.

Been a while since i did something personal. Been a long tine since i actually talked to you guys. Im gonna take today’s post to do just that. 
As you know ive become somewhat of a better writer than i was when i started and my lovely audience has shot up to 1197 followers. My skills for imagery have gotten better and i can finally type on a keyboard that has the “H” key working.

Dare i say, its a good patch. But then again we all have our demons. Mine just happen to be happiness and my search for it. 

Its funny how the old me would get a tattoo to get rid of all the voices. Writing helps me out so much, anyway this post is meant for something no one in the world knows about me and whats a better way of coming out with my secrets than the blog that keeps me sane.

You probably wont pay heed to my words but just try to imagine this. You are thinking about something but not in your own voice. You have 3 different voices with 3 different personalities in there. And now imagine if they dint get along, EVER.

I have the privilege of having this. There’s me. There’s red and there’s the third guy.

Red’s the angry one and the third one is just sad all the time.

Now this may seem like a joke. But imagine having to decide what to wear or which word to use next and having two people giving you constant chatter, the voices scare me sometimes. Used to scare me much more when i was a kid. I did things, bad things, just to make them leave that didn’t happen, i tried to listen to them but god, they’re bad bad people.

There’s times when im a prisoner here, red takes over a lot. Says stuff i dont want to say. Now i get that this makes me seem borderline schizo but then again i have embraced them and i have made deals with them. Things im not particularly proud of at this particular moment but deals nonetheless. They have their vents. And i have my life. We all win. Still, the struggle gets real whenever red gets mad or the third guy gets sad. 

They say and do stuff i dont want to. Its hard to get them to back off sometimes. This might sound weird but this has always been there. They. Have always been a part of me.

Moving to the beat

They waltzed to the beat of destiny, sashaying away the realms of man, blowing kisses through the torrent of the fan.

He was headstrong and depressed, She was perfect and yet impressed. His whims and fancies dictated the world he lived in , it was one she wanted to be in.

A game of shadows and the gestures of a clown, their life together began in silence.

She looked on closely and saw another, with the face of apathy, occupying her space, stealing her rightful degree in winning this race.

Things can never be perfect in the life of a man with so many demons, He gazed upon the shelf and found hope in her dreamy eyes and her slightly blushed up cheeks. She looked at him and rejected the advances he made. The world turned into a bad place, childish empathy and fake sympathy filling up his bottle with drugs and gasoline.

She regretted the steps she had taken but the apathy in his life needed to leave, her life would never be the same, but a man doesn’t matter. its the thought that counts she supposed.

Breaking their promises, learning the acts of true companionship, they march into oblivion as the fade gathers into the mist veiling slowly the coating set into the abyss. Days bleed into hours as months turn into years. The threads of togetherness tore apart by the blades of a rusty pair of garden sheers.

They faced their demons left themselves into the sea of uncertainty for all of eternity.

The world however is a funny place, They thought they’d lost hope but fate entwined their ties into a sullen confrontation of lies.

A tale of two lovers that found each other in a festival of nerds, They found love in a place where you only found virgins.

Whiskey and emotional debts, her 18th birthday and a crooner in a fest. A train ride to heaven coffee drops and toffee pots leading upto the day he found his voice again. He laid it down on the line, He left everything to chance,  Her fingers began to dance.

On my way

Im on a journey from point A to B
A journey that will be boring and sort of srupid.

Now there’s many possibilities for going from A to B

I could board a train
I could catch a bus
I could drive
I could ride
I could walk
I could teleport
Or i could not go at all

I chose the second one ( No ₹₹₹₹ lulz)

So i went to Kashmiri gate
I looked for a volvo
I found it
It was full


I boarded an “ordinary bus”

According to the Fuckworth and screwit formula

Im done.

I looked at the date in me watch

7th Feb 2015

That Holds some significance

I made a call, and it was great.

I Got in the blue tinted blues wagon.
Apparently the blue guy with blue house and the blue window belongs here.

I talked to her.

I realized something, something i somehow always realize.

I forgot it.

And now im writing fir no apparent reason

“insert emotional quote here”

Its funny.

We gave such a short tenure in the cockpit of existance its funny how easily we can let the good times slip by

Im complaining about being in a shitty bus

While i could be appreciating the value of the fresh sweat infused air constantly making me regret my life’s decisions


Well crap.


Something almost, but not quite ,entirely unlike an apology

3 months.  Thats an awfully long time to not write anything. Its not like I stopped writing. It was more like nothing I wrote was good enough. The words didn’t work. The sentences weren’t hot enough and every prose I wrote sucked.

So I read.

A lot.

And I realized every one has a different viewpoint . Everyone writes with different levels of passion. Everyone’s sense of humour varies severely. Everyone’s cultural sensibilities are different.  Everyone has different reasons to write. And everyone needs an audience that accepts them…. Apart from kim kardashian. Especially apart from kim kardashian.

Anyways so now im gonna do a 180 and talk about love.

So I believe that everyone in this world is destined for someone.  And everyone in the world is going to end up with someone that gets em. Now truth be told. I also believe that all this is a load of horse crap.

But then again ive felt that forever. That feeling of being wrapped in a ball of string that goes on and on. Having your own personal infinity with someone. Having your own universe . Having your own rules. And having a slice of a cake called perfection.

My perfection comes from her.  The woman of my dreams. The girl who looks me in the eyes and tells me im a freaking nut case and she cant handle me anymore , and kisses me . There’s something about the warmth of her breath falling on my neck when she hugs me. The way she taps her palms on her thighs every time shes nervous. The way she moves, the way she gazes at stuff, the way she stands , the way she smiles and the way she laughs. It gives me goose bumps even thinking about all that.

Idk if she and I are ending up together. Idk of we’ll every have our forever. But all I know is that this woman has given me the illusion of it at the very least. What she is might not be perfect. But its my definition of perfect.

She is it .

She is everything.

She’s mine.


The bigger star.

So my mom just told me to start a different blog that doesnt contain my personal crap…

Well.. my mom reads my blog… I really should cut down on the swear words …. I guess…

So I wrote about my dad a long time ago.. and never really wrote about my mom so Anyways moms… I mean how cool are moms ? They literally are your best friends but some times they also beat the shit out of you. They’re your closest confidants but they rat you out to your dad the second they get the chance. They tell you they love you and the next day give you a long and obscenely detailed lecture about how you are useless.

We all know the forcefed mainstream emotional melodrama that tv and films have shoved into us about “mom ka love” or “maaa ki mamta” as ekta kapoors writers call it.

So im not gonna get into that. What im gonna talk about is the way my mom has been so undeniably awesome and soo freaking cool about everything that she’s made me the person I am today.

I still remember the time I had a really messy break up and I was shattered in my head . She was the only one I could confide in cause anyone else would have thought of it rationally and told me how I was wrong but no. Moms are biologically programmed to always take your side in an argument.

Weather its a stupid school administration guy calling her to tell her how her sons hair are really really long or a teacher telling her that her only son didnt make his notebooks… again… my mom has always been that superhero that basically told them , ” hey listen loser my son is my son. And I know my son cant be wrong so you better stop complaining about it or im gonna give you a piece of my mind”.

And that is usually enough to shut people up for good. (Btw thanks for all of that mom )

I mean I have fought with my mom alot . Like a whole damn lot but in the end shes the one who’s always gonna be the one person I can always. Like always count on. All of this goes without saying but ive never really said this stuff so… yeah..

Anyways yeah. My mom is a serial overthinker . like you tell her the weather isnt gonna be good tomorrow and im pretty sure she’ll stay up all night thinking about how the next day is gonna get real bad.  Shes addicted to her phone , more than I am . And that says a lot. She’s quirky and has a bad habbit of screaming at inappropriate times but inspite of all her so called flaws . She’s the reason I can actually write this stuff. Shes the reason for all I am. And all im gonna be.

Mom I love you. Ive never ever said this to you but I guess its better late than never .
And without getting anymore cheesy im gonna take my leave.

Maa if you read this . Please for the love of everything that is good . Dont ever talk to me about this . PLEASE !!



So I just hit 1000 views. And surprisingly im pretty effing happy about it.
This blog has helped me a lot to grow as a person. And channel my thoughts.

And Im not the reason for this blog hitting a 1000. Its all of you. My readers and supporters. So here’s to you people.  Who had nothing better to do so you read this shit. And heres to my emotional problems and compulsive need to tell the world about how I feel.

So theres a few people im gonna give shout outs to.
#1 the best friend I have in delhi. Mr. Hitein puri for reading this and responding properly.
#2To my parents for not talking to me about this
#3 To everyone else whos ever read this blog ever.


My hero.

The kid went to his dad and said.. Why dont you get something for yourself??  And he said son buying you a video game or a phone or anything that makes you happy means more to me than anything else.

Fathers are probably the most underrated people ever. All the credit is given to the whole “maa ki mamta, moms guidance” etc etc and i know that, that stuff is pure gold. But what all songs,  books and senti articles forget to mention is the part the father has in a childs life. I for one have this ideology to someday be just as awesome as my dad….

My father is a self made man. He has seen every hardship i can only dream of and still he can stand proud and say that he has risen above it all. He lost his guidance when he was very young. And he made himself the man he is today. We might fight sometimes. But if today you ask me whos the one person that is the basis of all i am today.. Its him. He once told me that he wanted to give me everything he couldnt get as a child. And that statement still gives me the chills…  Hes lived a tough life  but he did make sure me or my sister never see anything harsh in our lives.

I still remember this one fight we had a few years ago. Things got really out of hand and the next morning he came up to me and said, ” beta..mat lada kar itna. Patience boht important hai.”
The only time i ever saw him shed a tear was the day i moved out. A man in his 40’s crying when his son moved out is an image thats more moving than anything you’ll ever see. To this day when i go home he purposely delays me just so i miss the afternoon bus and leave at dusk instead. Every week i dont go back home, all i can think of is..  Crap yaar papa se mil nhi paunga…

And if i become half the man my dad is ill be able to say that I have become something huge.

If you ever read this papa. I love you. I might not say it enough but you are everything to me.