It’s first love… Like the last one

20th November 2017

Dear Shooting Star,

I think that I know who you are. I avoided mentioning your name in my book but I finally found you. Here is a poem, dedicated to you.

Never did I ever feel like this before
When she walked with me for the first time by the shore
My heart felt like pounding stones
She is the streetlight that will walk me home
She is truly mine, tonight.

She is the lead in my dances
The grace in my prances
Bright like the sunshine
A friend, a companion, a family
She is truly mine, tonight.

She is the freckles in my smile
She glistens in my eye
For our love was spontaneous and juvenile
As a newly hatched butterfly
She touches me and I just know
She is truly mine, tonight.

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A little look here and a little look there

If I see that no one is around

I’ll shout really loud


You light a ciggy or get drunk

Smoke pot or inhale drugs

I cared enough till now but now I do not care.

Lemme quickly flip to the last page of notebook and tear those pages

Where I once cared about you

Quickly rip apart the memories of you

Because your choices make me cringe.

Enough said, I’ll grab some popcorn,put on some movies and binge

And tell all the people



Dance, dance, will you dance by me?
The day we last meet baby
Hand in hand
Those cold hands of yours
In trembling hands of mine
Because I am hopelessly in love with you
I can’t see anything beyond you

Drunk, drunk I got drunk in the clubs
Hoping to find the right girl
Ecstacy reached the top but left a hole
Those casual flings never gave me the feeling
That a simple call from you did
Because I am hopelessly in love with you
I can’t see anything beyond you.

Waited, waited, I waited for so long
Was your taste that bad or my life that sad
Did you not know where you belonged?
You left me sauntering instead
Singing the same old song
Because I am hopelessly in love with you
I can’t see anything beyond you.

Chris Weds Li(re-edit)

Few Paranthas with some Desi ghee floating on top, now floating in my satisfied Punjabi stomach, cool breeze and a silent afternoon. Don’t tell me you won’t crave to sleep. Because if you don’t, I will consider you an alien! Unlike many of the readers right now, I felt damn sleepy. What harm will sleep do knowing my High School exams begin in just a week and I have my Physics class to attend at the tuition center? Big deal?

After maybe what felt like 2-3 minutes, someone poked a finger in my ear. I slapped the little finger away from my face and the friend fingers of the victim got united up against only one ambition, to punch my back and decorate the neckline of my Lucknowi Kurta with oily knuckles.

“Why do kids exist?” I snapped.

“Sorry, pleaje, thanchu, Pigeon, hahahaha!” cousin prattled.

“Yeah, I’ll have DaVinci decode this one,” I rubbed my eye and got up.

With a squint eye, I saw my cousin, only about 2 years of age, poking her nose, standing near my bed. I didn’t live in a glorious apartment. It was a 2 BHK and whenever guests came, well, to hell with privacy. What day is a day when guests are there and they don’t poke your ear in sleep, eh?

Just to avoid awkward conversations with my Aunt and Mother about my High School grades and how I had to beat my other cousin’s score to prove that my paternal family has more geniuses than maternal family(that’s what they implicitly mean), I preferred going to my tuition center instead. Indian families are generally very competitive when it comes to their kids’ scores. It’s like a relational diagram, if we want to understand. The basic layer comprises of:

  1. A) Eating almonds
  2. B) Switching off phones and handing them to parents before they catch you calling your girlfriend and snatch it.
  3. C) Score better than your cousins, neighbors, themselves and nearly everyone your parents can think of. And do consider the normalization system as well.

‘Humare zamaane me to 65 bhi 95 ke baraabar tha!’

(In our times, 65% was equal to 95%)


So, if you think your father scored a 60 and you get 80, ha-ha, you aren’t a champ kiddo.

  1. D) Studying for at least 2 cervical pains, 4 fake cries and infinite mother hugs a day.
    Follow these steps and you will one day become better than ‘Sharma Ji ka beta’ at the Social Connections Day. Definitely!


You are not an Indian then.

The results day, I mean.

Now, that I was freshened up again, I stormed out of the building as fast as I could giving complexion to The Flash. Headed up to the bus stop and embarked upon a ‘swag wali Lamborghini’. I am not erroneous. That’s what the Jaat driver was listening to.  Dude, come on, a 5.1 Ch Bose with dual woofer and Wi-Fi remote support in a shattered piece of amazing crap they call an RTV bus! That is some luxury feels! The usual distance between my home and tuition center is around 4 KM, which takes me half an hour, is easily covered listening to 2-3 Baniya aunties fighting for the bus fair daily, 2-3 Sardar Uncles fighting on which IPL team will beat Punjab this time and some fresh 467 PPM air as well.

It was sharp 4 O’clock when I ran to my Academy past the Rajput society guard with large moustache and a gun in his hand, half in sleep. It was a rich society. Just below my academy was an “Eschatological Church of the Redeemed God”.

I saw some people over there forming a proper team to play a game. There was a car just by the entrance gate to the stairs that lead to my academy on first floor, covered with balloons and flowers. I had this urge to read the name of the bride and groom. So, I leaned towards the back of the car and saw the glittery heart that said-“Chris Weds Li”. For a moment I was normal but then the other moment when I started noticing a lot of Chinese people playing some kind of game with Afro Americans or maybe Caribbean or maybe South Africans, could be Zimbabwe as well. Might be it is Uganda. OH! I stood there thinking various possible countries. I am pretty sure I must have mumbled these words loudly as I saw an old man, highly resembling Morgan Freeman, approach towards me on a wheelchair.

“Shuku Shuku?” he said while holding a box in his hand in which small nuggets were there covered with coconut topping.

“I am sorry,” I woke up from my deep state of Atlas.

“Nigerian sweet; dear boy. You seem to be looking at the marriage board so long; I thought I might offer you some.” He smiled and replied.


“You seem to have a troubled mind, I assume. White hair often don’t lie, little fella. The game you might?”

“What is the game they are playing? I have never seen anything like that.”

“Oh. This game is called Dawn of Luck.”

“The Dawn of Luck?”

“Yes. It’s our family’s long believed tradition that the more paper airplanes will go flying into the wooden basket bride holds, more lucky will be the married couple. All the male members fly a single airplane each. Ha-ha, my wife got 17 in the basket. Li has already got more than 22. It will be a platinum jubilee indeed, Ha-ha…ugghh uughhh!“He coughed while he spoke in a broken voice.

“But, sir, there is a story here for sure. The bride is Chinese. Groom is Nigerian, how?”

“Funny story,  really. One day, our lad here got on a bus. He saw Li. He put his watch in pocket and asked Li for time. And here they are today, happy faces.”

“But, they both are from different castes, different religions.”

“HO-HO dear lord. You don’t see religion when you are in love. Love is spontaneous and unconditional. Either it happens or it does not. You cannot find love with a magnifier in your hand or by travelling to different places. It is all planned before you can even think. It just happens. You kids face a damn heartbreak and think that you won’t find love again. Kid, if it broke your heart it was not love at the first place. Love is a sensation, like rays of sun and air. You can feel it. It touches your stomach, touches your body and slowly and steadily touches your soul and till the time you realize that your mind, body and heart are affected by this good sensation, you have already fallen in love. Tell me boy, does air has a different behavior for white people and black people? Will the sun shine differently for a Christ and a Buddhist? Will fire be lit up in a different color for a Muslim and a Jew? Then why do people find conditions when it comes to love?”

I had a jaw drop. You see, the society we are in has taught us how to categorize people into groups based on their castes, the religion they follow, the gods they worship, the work they do and we tend to stay more with the people more like us. You will question the secularity of me and call me crazy but believe me, it is 21st century and even now we are not secular. All we have is a mask. And the day that mask will fall, we all will realize that we actually, conscious or sub-consciously, tend to judge people based on their religion. ‘A Punjabi will marry only a Punjabi’. I don’t know about your families, but in my surroundings people still believe that. And forget people, up till now I was thinking that I am a practical and a secular fellow but you will see that nothing is secular even in these modern times. I self- realized what I have written above. Punjabis, Jaat, Baniyas, Sardars, Rajputs, these are nothing but a weak answer to the publishers of daily matrimony page in newspapers. I wait for the day when all these Marriage Bureaus will not ask whether your ‘Gotra’ is Kashyap or Khatri, but when they will ask whether you are an Indian or not. That is the day I will believe that India has changed. We have changed.

So, what needs to be done? I don’t know. I am too afraid to ask my parents. But I can ask myself. Ask yourself. I’ll go edit the story so that people don’t know about more castes and religions and turn my motto upside down.

Milne ki Tamanna

Na jaane fir kab milenge ab hum
Yun hi bheed me kabhi haath takrayenge
Ya baarish me train ki khidki se dekhunga tumhe
Tum kabhi aangan me hogi
Aur meri kati patang takraayegi tumse
Ya koi chor tumhara purse lekar bhagega
Mai uske 2-4 ghuse dhanunga
Aur tumhare saamne hero banunga
Ya shayad aise ki coffee peete hue tumhare muh se jhaag hataunga
Ya zada filmy na rakhte hue hi soche
To SMS bhi to kar hi sakta hu tumhe
Tumhari college wali gali me bhi to mil sakti ho
Wahi pehle ki tarah chutkulon par khil sakti ho
Tum wo sab ho jo paane ki hasrat thi kabhi
Tumhare saath TV dekhte hue hi zindagi nikal jaaye to asli zindagi hai wahi
Mai fir waise hi baal savaarunga tumhare
Aur tum bhi har roz savere chaai pilaogi mujhe
Jab ek roz hum fir nashe me honge aur raat nikal jayegi
Tumhare muh se fir koi raaz, koi ajeeb si baat nikal jayegi
Mai fir tumhe arso tak chidhata rahunga
Aur aangan ki kati patang aise hi udata rahunga
Yaad karunga us roz ko jab tumse pehli baar himmat kar baat kari thi
Jab mera aasmaan kuch kam neela,
Ghaas kuch kam hari thi
Yun hi haste khelte budhaape ko paa lenge
Aur apne poton ke liye “modern dada dadi ki kahaaniyan” banaa lenge
Fir jab haspataal ke bistar par mai, mere bagal me tum hogi
Ek aakhri baar tumse mulakaat hogi
Dil to dono ka aakhri baar dhadkega
Par dhadkan antim saas tak ek hogi

Craving expectations by a futile letter to her v2.0

Because first letter is a love letter
And it contained all lovable things about you
But this v2.0 has the mistakes of us
In the silence of words, dedicated to you

One day when I woke up
I felt I am missing her
This is not right
My mind ushered
After everything that happened
After all that took place
I just needed some time
I could do well with some space
But everywhere I go
No matter where I breathe
Just keep thinking of this stupid thought
Of you and me
Why did you have to become a part of me if you couldn’t be a part of me?
Last night when fireflies lit up my dark room
When claws of being aloof entangled me
To my inevitable doom
Depression swallowed me from the inside
When you found someone new
Left me confused with my malarkist-blabbering mind
And I was stupid to have loved you
You said you loved reading minds
Then how come you never got to read mine
You never understood who understood you better
You never cared for the one who cared for you better
And guessed the scale of my love
I kept playing nice guy when you were around
Your level of numbness shook my grounds
You came in my life like a lighting thunder
The way you electrified the birds of my desires
We would have been together like sweat and skin
Inscribed perfectly but invisible
But when I touched the vulnerabilities,you perspired
If you really really wanna know more about “ourself”?
I’ll show you the last pages of my notebooks
Sad life of my trimmer which gave me those atrocious looks(according to you)
I never used it more than twice a month though
I only asked for a chance
Is that too much to ask for?
Or are you too clairvoyant
That things were not even worth trying for?
All those ditched lectures, hangouts, movies, chocolates, what was it for?

So, if one day when you wake up
And you feel that you miss me
Don’t regret your decisions
You don’t deserve me
I tried trying
You didn’t believe me