Category: Photographs

Like the Rush of a River


You know how some days just fly by?
How some people swoop in
Bringing thunder and rainbows with them
To whisk you away on a rollercoaster ride?

You know the kind
The ones hard to find
The ones that are looked for
By the recesses of the mind.

You pause to breathe
Once back on your feet
And look over your shoulder, to where
Dreams and memories sweetly meet.

Feel how some moments lay so still?
How time decides to freeze
Allowing us a little more here, a little more there
A little more heart to fill.

Brief as it may be
Our trysts with that kind
But never has so surely
Anything felt so divine.

Like the rush of a river
How hurried are the days
But its rocks and their glimmer
Are the moments that stay.

(Photograph captured in the scenic landscape of Leh, Ladakh, India)

Wildflowers

A medley of colours caressed my back
Blooming into an embrace, lush and wet
As I lowered myself gently on a field of green
Wispy touches teasing my skin.

Violets and pinks and whites and yellows
Sung to my mind, the heart mellowed
Breezing me through sweet memories
Painting my palette of whispered dreams.

I opened my eyes to a canvas of blue
Cottony clouds, they were wispy too
Shaped into my thoughts, they teased me so
Wish I could hold them, and let them know.

That I had travelled to a time
A land of sunshine
Where songs and smiles
And kisses filled our lives
A place so warm, so happy and bright
Like the colours behind my lids, when I close my eyes.

A content sigh, I turn to my side
Soaking in the wonder of the smells and sights
What is it really, shed me some light
A carpet of wildflowers, or an Arabian Night?

(Photograph captured in Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka)

Life in the Time of Corona

U N R E S T

There’s so much going on
So little time to dwell on
The ins and outs of a troubled mind
What do I carry and who to leave behind?

The times are dark, marred with worry
“Fret not, my child,” Mother soothes me,
“The days might be bleak, nights long and dire
We shan’t calm our storm, lest we lose our fire.”

The fear in our minds, hope in our souls
Made themselves home, leaving us cold
Brought to our knees by the crosses we bear
With the chants of a madman, or one deep in prayer.


(The photograph is a slice of my Airbnb in Kandy, Sri Lanka)

The Song that calls me Home

There was once, a song or two
That called me home, home to you.

I was lost in a haze, of sun and sand
A drive by the ocean, to another land
A sweet escape, it was meant to be
Past all the bitterness, I wanted to see
Few new colours, a new face maybe
A smile in a while, to set me free.

I should’ve known, seen it coming
For it wasn’t new, but a long time running.

The voice crooned, a soft melody
Taking me places I had left behind me.
A whisper in my ear, a caress on my skin
A tickle on my arm, the song played me like a string.

Turning around, no longer certain
I let the roads show me the way
With a little hope, and a flutter in my heart
For a little more could break me apart.

I thought I knew, saw it coming
Could’ve fooled myself, with words promising.
Silence and hurt greeted me so warm
For a moment I wondered,
If this is where I now belonged.

Left no trace when you left this place
The one in our hearts,
We used to call home
I’m back in the streets
Coursing through lanes
Of memories old and dreams long gone.

The music is the same,
Just a tad more blue
As it no longer sounds like the song I knew
The one that you sang, and I held so true
The song that brought me home to you.

(Photograph captured in the Tawang-Bomdila route in Arunachal Pradesh, India)