Talk to the devil

Talk to the devil in you

Ask him what is it

That he wants you

To do to me

Then show me

But doing it to yourself!

Move your fingers gently

On your lips

And feel how it feels to have

A foreigner touch you

As I watch

Slide them down

To your throat

And choke yourself

Until you feel love or you feel death

Look at me as you grow stiff

Release your hold

And breathe

As if I am breathing with you

Tug your curls as I’d

Slouch and moan

Show me fear

Show me fire

Revolt against my demon

Fighting yours

At a distance

Don’t come closer

I can smell your arrogance

and you mine

Now begin again

Stroke your existence

Like the breeze

Turning to a storm

Whirling to a tornado


As I gather like the clouds

And pour

Keep your gaze fixed

The world’s ending

One last time ask the devil

Inside you

If he has won?


Not In My Name

Darkness grips my heart

Like an overcast on the city

subtle fear my mind says

Like radio silence

when cables snap

the networks are shut down

Just grey pixels on the wide screen

I want to scream

I am crying on the inside

The worst moment for any human

To meet his own helplessness

I want to reach every friend

I know

In a hope they will tell me

It’s only futile panic

I mean I told that to someone

Just last night

But as we wake up

Grey pixels on my screen

Are now turning red

and my hands tremble

And I miss my mother

She’d ask me to pray

But only last night I told her

Prayer is useless

And today my soul is reaching

To any voice that’d pay heed

In this time of need

Maybe it’s nothing

Maybe it’s just precaution


what if someone dies in my name

What if someone loses home

In my name

If I scream in revolt

through a glass screen

While they take me away

Will it absolve me?


Such Pleasure

Such pleasure

On every cell on my skin

Your touch

Like cold rain drops

Falling from cracks in the ceiling

On to your bare shoulder


As I curl myself

Folding my knees

You race through the hair

And my back

Like opening knots on my neck

Holding unspoken words

Untreated dreams

And I hold still

As you ease my suffering

Warm teardrops pitter patter

on your sheets

And you cascade down my arm

Like a waterfall

Where every droplet comes to life

And my mouth stays half open

Looking to the ceiling

As thoughts come crashing down

From chaos into catharsis

To accept defeat

Is a victory in its own

To accept hurt

Is a form of love

As my cosmic heart explodes

Giving birth to a new universe

In a dark space

I bite into the sandwich

Feels like I have merely eaten

Never relished

and you watch in glee

You see my soul flying around your room

Naked as daylight

Incomprehensible why you haven’t bailed yet

I close my eyes

As you caress my face

They are coming for us, I scream

You are only seeing things love, you say

I open my eyes to see your soul floating

And it’s wrapped in sunshine

To give me light

And I feel safe in my power

colliding with yours

How difficult for a warrior to accept protection

How beautiful for the brave to meet

her own cowardice

And the souls blend as

Bodies stay apart

Merely touching

Tears don’t stop

Rain pours

My eyes close

As you watch me merge

Into my soul again

This time in truth.


Butterfly inside a church

And you chase me

Like a little boy chases a butterfly

Inside a Catholic Church

during a mass

As the alter’s lit

The crowd is frozen

While I fly and you run

To the sounds of the choir

Under the ceiling painted by Jesuits

On the cold floors

Let me convex and concave

As you move over me

Too sacrilegious this love

Find where my lips end

And kiss me there

For I am a butterfly in a church love

I am going to pass over tomorrow.

And you will forever come to church

Looking for me…



You sit in Delhi

and you say it’s hot

I, in Mumbai

cant figure out if it’s monsoons

Or what has become of it now,

You send pictures of every

desolate building you see

And I send you just myself

Same isn’t it?

Old broken

Letting green and wildflowers grow

Come over you say

Soon, I blurt out as usual

False promises

Or just delayed?

Take me to Lahore, I beg

Next December you say.


of an uncertain future

Would you kiss me if we met? You ask

Certainly, I say

More promises

How’d it be you wonder

And I think to self

It will be like being inside God’s mind

I don’t say it loud though

And we drift to

You are in Delhi and it’s hot

I, in Mumbai wondering

What the hell is happening

with the weather.


What fascinates you?

What is it that fascinates you

life or the living?

He asks as he pulls me closer,

I worry about wondering –

How it’d feel to be next to him night after night;

But honesty has me and I whisper – Neither, I find existence drab and tediously long.

He brushes my hair off my face and looks

To confirm if I am serious

I am – I trace the outline of his face

He stops me in my tracks

Holds my hand

‘But life is beautiful,’ – he says

‘Make the most of it, will you?’

I interrupt him – I do – I say

He reframes his question

What then, fascinates you miss? –

He holds my face as he waits

‘Death’ with a spark in my eyes I say

‘Everything about death’

And everything goes quiet as

we breathe in sync

Smiling at each other

-I haven’t quite met anything like you –

he says

Oh boy, he has no idea

what he coming towards him, does he –

I think to self

as I return his kiss

I close my eyes and hands rush down.

Hey – he blurts

Making the most out of life – I smirk.

So what fascinates you? – I ask

You – he whispers as he looks to the ceiling.



I walk out the door

for 20 min at 8:10 every evening

descending the stairs


Wondering the origin of preoccupation

From the war?

Pakistan occupied Kashmir perhaps?

What’s your occupation? – I was once asked

By a stranger

I occupy every space I find – I had said


Walking through broken streets

but lit up in red and green

Transparent water reflections of

Iridescent films

I, preoccupied about my vendor

Motorist almost runs over me

Startled, angry he looks at me

I stare expressionless-ly

Kill me, or don’t

Don’t you dare give me the look

Preoccupied again by a woman

Who takes my side

Walking ahead on the footpath

The motorist in the wrong –

Why didn’t I tear his eyes


The river flows ruthlessly

too lost to appreciate the beauty

I wait for my eggs at the shop

but when did I even reach my destination?


I gorge on them like Kabir Singh

his alcohol

That’s heartbreak they say

No heartbreak is just pouring rain

And empty heart

And empty stomach

Preoccupied mind

But who cares

The spice hits the slits opened in my tongue

Everyday the man looks at me and

Asks the same question.

I say – PalTi Nakko karu

The only sentence I can say without

Fumbling in a language -not native to mine

But preoccupied with a man looking

He brushes his hair

And I look through him

For a black cat that’s missing now

Probably gone forever

Rain intensified

The white tarpaulins hold leaves

and the light pours

I leave and traffic is haphazard

And a standstill

Preoccupied I walk across

Same conversations

Same puddles

I ascend the stairs

Afraid that I will be berated again

The doorbell is loud

The door knock is not loud enough

The insanity

Of living on charity

I enter preoccupied

He screams like he’d anyway

Over smart educated people he taunts

I throw the umbrella at his face

Inside my head

Outside I feign a bland face

Preoccupied again

With being preoccupied

And I wonder

the origin of preoccupation

From the war?

Pakistan occupied Kashmir perhaps?

What’s your occupation? – I was once asked

By a stranger

I occupy every space I find – I had said

Every space away from the present.