A mess of thoughts, inked through a writer’s block

I have been trying to write. I swear I have tried most possible means. I have stayed up in the silence of the night, waiting for a muse to drift by into sleepy eyes. I have strayed into lonelier dirtpaths, recluse benches, shadowy trees, pitch dark corners, my bed, the floor, upon a table, under…

Chai 

I was urged to write since the moment today, about half hour ago, while I was sipping from a papercup of tasteless chai* in the college canteen. The point of time when my spectacles fogged from the vapours of the ten rupee chai, and my vision blurred temporarily into a trance- I knew I had…

On Constancy

Constancy is like numbness. It cannot be perceived; it is a flat line of inactivity.  What can be sensed is flaws and fluctuation. And sometimes, I'm numbed. This numbed state of my mind leads me very easily into a state of comfortable deterioration. It makes me feel at home in my comfort zones and that…

The dose

A thousand words endeared again  To a rusted pen and a poet's muse. Withering verses settled in synchrony  Within reason and thought's contours. Vagrant, vacant words sound More sense than their silences.  These quartets cohere to meanings  And flit in familiar nuances. The flux of flowing thought  The flutter of a shy and queer emotion …