आज एक अजीब सी घबराहट है,
थोड़ी सी बेचेनी है,
शायद अकेलेपन का रुतबा है,
या अंधेरे की बाहों में,
पहचान मेरी सहमी है।

कुछ पेचीदा से हैं यह लम्हे,
लबों पे शब्द ठहरे हैं,
जो उनको कुछ कह न सकें,
तो बेजुबान पन्नो को बेदर्द रंग दिया,
आज मुझमे इतनी बेरहमी है।

(Inbox me for translation ☺)


The slightest whisper of a man nearby has lunged me to my bed covers; the very sensation of someone seizing my breasts has latched those millions of voices on my spine that speak from bruises of a rape; this night my room is all lit and my senses lookout for footsteps; all I need to do is walk like a man.

P.S. No feminism intended.



Tonight, let’s forget my daughter’s plight and your mother’s aching breasts, let’s shadow their fame for this night and let’s speak of privileges of a penis because I see it succumbed under my name flooding your quiet hall, the silent streets, the naked headlines, and the defeated breeze but as I tried to look between your legs, I discovered what is between mine; Victory.

The courtroom for existense

The lock to my smile belong to your conscious signs of my existence, sadness to your oblivion,
I do have eyes to look into my reflection, but I crave your gaze, this soul seeks for ephemeral pleasures reaped out of expectations;
a curse to dead living bodies,
I do have bottled love to applaud my creation, but I count the hours for your appreciation.
Sold bodies. Period.