Letting it go away..

Do you know what’s hurtful?
Letting people who you were addicted to, go off!
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Blaming oneself for the ruins.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Registering to the fact that promises were made to be broken.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Giving up on the idea to share your sorrow with your closest mate.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Being indifferent to the art of moving on!
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Not being able to mark the transition.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Expecting that nothing’s wrong and you’re just overthinking.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Fretting and avoiding to find a new escape.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Brushing the expectations off the coat.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Having clear sky up there but dark clouds within.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Distancing from oneself inorder to carve the perfect illusive self.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Archieved images.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Empty box of chocolates filled with lonesome air.
Do you know what’s hurtful?
Reminding oneself of the hurt!
Do you know what’s not hurtful?
Giving it the name of Adulting and swiftly moving on to the next post!…

My nest shouldn’t have been abandoned!

On a winter afternoon, I came and sat on your branch like a carefree bird,

Inconsiderate to the fact that I was enrolling myself in something known yet unheard!

I remember hovering around you exploring the new facets of mine,

Your enamour was as warm and intoxicating as the smoothest red wine.

Have you ever met someone and had an eccentric feeling of knowing him for ages?

When you can sense the sky blushing pink and crimson and not the former dull beiges!

It’s so bizarre how life pulls some distant acquaintance so close,

What’s even more outlandish is the fact that now you romanticize things which for you were extremely gross!

We tried connecting our dots both backward and forward,

And eventually concluded that it’s best not to find clarity in the unforeseen absurd.

I’ve seen the changing colours of your leaves as the seasons went by,

There were days when your response wasn’t familiar but majorly peculiar to my Hi!

Every time I was away hibernating, desperately hoping for this bond to not fade,

I could feel parts of me furiously blazing in the memory of your calmest shade!

A plethora of anxieties and insecurities hammered my nerve cells to the rueful pain,

I had a really tough time clutching all the doubts and holding them in disdain!

Through all of this, hope was my anchor, hope was my inoculant,

Every moment I hoped that it doesn’t get tramped to some murdered remnant!

It was summer again, I was up in the sky fluttering harder than ever before as all of me longed your embrace,

The one which was warm enough to cool down the entire craze!

And there you were. Right there! Robust and charming, standing upright swinging to the tunes of some new tweety.

You at least owe me an answer for giving away my nest such randomly. Right, sweetie?

It wasn’t you, but my belief in love which betrayed,

I for once was a fool who trusted you and ended up getting trapped in this bloody game of charades!


My words seem to me like the prisoners who are always on the lookout for a jailbreak. Trying to escape the nausea and suffocation of this human body and just flow with the melted air!

My words seem to me like the slaughtered soldiers, who gave in every ounce of their body to fulfil the purpose and make a statement. A statement harbingering vows, wishes, guilt and hopes.

My words seem to me like the despondent widow, who has lost purpose! Life seems like trauma to them. With their adornments of punctuation marks, similes and allusions taken away, they struggle hard to make peace with life and lie alone on a white sheet of paper.

My words seem to me like pearls of my favourite necklace. Broken and shattered due to all the frictions which my chest went against! Behind the curtains and under the sofa, those pearls now lie in the darkest areas of the room, away from my reach. I try looking out for them and my fingers brush against layers of dust which somehow surreptitiously made its home in my home!

My words seem to me like a collection of handicapped letters, hoping to find someone who’d sew them together to make a point!

My words seem to me like a tranquillizer, relieving me of the attacks of the incomprehensibility of my self-composed queries pertinent to my insecurities.

My words are a part of me. No actually, I’m a part of my words. Trying hard to build a sensible sentence that makes sense and does not lose its identity in the line up of paragraphs!

An opportunist who made a dent in the Indian History- Harshad Mehta.

A week back I binged over this prodigious piece of art called “Scam 1992- The Harshad Mehta Story.” Directed by Hansal Mehta, this 10 episodic long saga is based on the book written by former Times of India journalist Sucheta Dalal and her husband Debashish Basu, ‘The Scam: Who Won, who Lost, who Got Away.’
The story is about the Big Bull of Dalal Street- Harshad Shantilal Mehta who was the mastermind behind one of the biggest financial scams in the country of about 5000 Crores! Harshad’s story is one of the Rags to Riches who had started his journey from an extremely humble background. Belonging to a typical Gujarati family we find the much obvious financial acumen in Harshad which pushed him to dream big and achieve even bigger.
Harshad stepped in the Stock Market as a Jobber, totally incognizant of the workings of the market. But his sharp mind and learning abilities paved the way for him churn huge sums of money in no time. ‘Survival’ was never something which Harshad drew a bead on. Like a sharp shooter, his goals were pristinely clear to make it to the top irrespective of the extraneous influences which would have sucked his desires and broken his back! He was a classic Indian man who kept his family close to heart, throughout.

The set reeks of the 90’s trends when liberalisation had opened several doors of opportunities and Harshad squeezed every bit of it. In the series he isn’t portrayed as a criminal but a man who smartly scooped the loopholes of the system and used them for his benefit. His canny intellect took his consultancy firm, “Growmore” at the top of the Bombay Stock Exchange.

All the unethical activities of the stock market and money market which Harshad undertook have been served to the audience in the most explicit way. Though it gets a little technical and stretched out on some instances but I believe this maintains the authenticity of the facts in toto.

The story gives us an insight into different professional worlds, Journalism being one of them. Sucheta Dalal who was the flag bearer of throwing light on the scam comes out as a fierce, feisty, committed and an efficient journalist who along with her journalist husband unearths the fishiness which Mr Mehta was responsible for. Not just this, she made an equal effort to lay bare Harshad’s side of story too. I was genuinely in awe of this lady who is supremely gallant. That’s the kind of Journalism we actually look up to as the fourth pillar of democracy!

The series wasn’t merely a document of the facts associated with the scam, but it also majorly focussed on unravelling the psyche of the people involved; from the topmost officials to the grassroot people whose lives got dismantled due to the economy crash! More than anything, we get a precise insight into the psyche of Harshad Mehta himself. How he bounced back from failures, how he convinced people to believe in his dreams and business ideologies, what went wrong, who back stabbed, how he used his powers and influence optimally and on and on…
The best part is that Hansal Mehta neither tries to present an adulated image of Harshad nor an entirely fallacious one, but one of a crooked man who made it really big in life but ultimately fell flat on his face. I loved how everything was tried to keep blatantly factual regardless of the fact how sensitive the information was or how big the name involved was!

Harshad had the courtesy of several top-level politicians in his basket because of the benefits he gave them and the profits he yielded for them. These corrupt leaders had pulled Harshad quite a few times when our Big Bull fell in the pit. In this prospect the then Prime Minister P.V. Narsimha Rao was also alleged to have taken a bribe of 1 Crore from him!

The entire cast is a product of what we call impeccable casting. Pratik Gandhi as Harshad is a treat to watch. His performance was plausible as we can genuinely see through him the confidence which the real Harshad must have had. You literally feel a little inclined towards Harshad and hope for a happy ending of his story due to his conviction, which was definitely possible had it been a Bollywood plot and not a real story! Next, I can’t preach it more but Shreya Dhanwanthary is an absolute delight to watch who literally made me respect Journalism even more. Several other astounding actors like Satish Kaushik, Chirag Vohra, Hemant Kher, Faisal Rashid, Anjali Barot, KK Raina, Rajat Kapoor, etc, have come out with credible performances, making up for the strong pillars of the entire series.
The writing is quite tight and effective. With dramatic and wholesome dialogues and Gujarati phrases like “Ishq hai toh rish hai”, “Harshad ka raj ma, toh market majaa ma”, “BSE ka Bachchan”, etc., you stay tucked to the narrative throughout. The proclaiming and influential speeches by Harshad are bound to make you fall for his wise intellect. The introductory music score by Achint Thakkar lays the seed to watch out for some spectacular thrilling experience! The screenplay and cinematography are authentic and we clearly get a glimpse of the 90’s era, be it from the lanes of BSE or the dressing attire of our characters.

Scam 1992 is a saga of dreams, greed, power, downfall and demise. Though it led to the end of one of the most successful Business Tycoons history has ever had but at the same time it steered people to have bigger ambitions and even achieve them. Several moments might give you a sense of exaggeration as Hansal Mehta tries to comprehend all the dark stories related to the scam.
Formerly, I was a little reluctant to binge over this masterwork since it encompassed several market intricacies but I’m so glad that I came across the story of Scam 1992- The tale of a common man’s hero!

The Owlet.

What is it that you’re ogling at?

Is it the charisma of the world or its dearth?

The wonders it comprehends or the abysmal obscenity it rears?

Are you shocked at the inhumanity of humans or amazed seeing the talent of making even the inanimate objects work?

Maybe you’re flabbergasted seeing the hypocrisy we incorporate!

Maybe you’re astounded seeing our physical evolution and emotional devolution.

Maybe you’re just worried for our future generations. What values will they get from the already hollow conscience of ours?!

Or will they even get any?

What is it that you’re ogling at?

Do you still consider us to be any worthy?

Maybe we’re just fragile pieces of flesh who’ve unlearned humanity!


I miss us.

I miss us.
As I’m heading
towards the
autumn, I miss
the colourful
the face of spring.
The basking sunlight,
the spooning
of wind
as it danced to
the beats of
falling leaves.

I miss his
carefree laughter,
his wide smile,
his glistening eyes,
his orange shirt
which he wrapped
around me
every evening before
I miss his warm
pecks and being
called “sunkissed” again.

Pain isn’t in
the pale autumn
the lost spring.
Pain isn’t in
your leaving,
but your staying
as not yourself
You’re still there.
But your airy
charm for
the introvert buds
has become

I see ’em
pleading with
you to be a
little less
I see ’em
narrating their
stories of the
good old times
when the air
was pink all
I see them
crying their
heart out until
they die and
become a bookmark!

I don’t hate
Trust me I don’t!
Afterall you’ve seen me
blush and also
I just hope
your love during
was a little less
sweet for me
to easily chug the
brutal ignorance
you gifted me
during autumn.


I miss us.


The metamorphosis of childhood into a scarred adulthood.

The movie Chemical Hearts by Writer-Director Richard Tanne is a well-marked adaptation of the book “Chemical Hearts” by Krystal Sutherland. We get to travel through the story from the point of view of Henry Page (Austin Abrams) who was leading a humdrum perfect life per se. With chirpy friends and a loving family all around, he missed that spark which would add fodder to his emotions and chisel his words as a writer, until our female protagonist Grace Town (Lili Reinhart) makes a way into his life. Grace joins Henry’s school as an exchange student and partners him as an editor for the school newspaper.

Initially, Grace is quite reluctant to contribute and unwrap herself in the new community. She doesn’t want to write anymore. Henry on the other hand is quite sure that she has a myriad of sparkling words and emotions in store. He surreptitiously spies over her and finds out about her murky past where she lost her boyfriend in a car accident and also hurt her knee gruesomely!
Here’s when we start undoing the knots. Henry tries to fix her broken past but we get to see that Grace is quite messed up to let him in or simply let him go. She expresses vividly how the tragedies and bruises you get while growing up can puncture a part of your old self, eventually forming the new YOU! Inspired by this very emotion they carve out the theme of the newspaper- “Teenage Limbo”.
As the movie progressed, I could see a reflection of my life in it. For Grace it was ‘death’ which crumbled and crushed her teenage innocence. For us it can be failure, heartbreak, loneliness, depression or any emotion which literally jerked off the simplicity of childhood. Adulting isn’t easy as you get to witness a plethora of emotions of all sorts which takes away a part of your boisterous teenage, rips you apart and finally leaves you in a dampen battlefield called adulthood! Tired. Confused. Flabbergasted. Insecure. Terrified. Despondent. Amazed!
“Adults are just scarred kids who’re lucky enough to make it out of teenage limbo, alive.”
Moving on is so tough, then imagine how tough would it be to let that charming phase go off, when you were conditioned to express and speak up until you actually started doing so and were asked to shut up then! Because this is how it is.
When you try piercing through the many layers of this film, you shall experience that uncomfortable pull which drew your teenage away. A complete state of oblivion where you’re so unaware of what you’re actually feeling. Grace couldn’t understand what she really wanted. One moment she wanted to move on in life with Henry like a mature adult and the other moment she gave up everything to live in her dead boyfriend’s room with all the filthy and painful memories. Do you get this uncertainty and hopelessness where probably you feel nobody or even your old self isn’t able to understand what you’re actually going through? But hey, look around. Your parents, elder siblings and everyone out there on the street has juggled through this phase. They did hurt themselves many times but finally made through it somehow.
“Scars are not the reminders of what’s been broken, but what’s been created!”

It was really traumatizing for Grace to let her old happy self go away and come to terms with the new one. Let’s be a little more compassionate and considerate towards each other as we make through this journey.
The underlining thought in the film is to address, understand and accept the changes life brings. Learning to be comfortable around the uncomfortable emotions which were never felt or experienced before!
“I know it’s a dark dungeon, but let’s just be travel partners together until we see the light. What say?”

Quarantine वाले ख़याल!💫

क्वारंटाइन के बहाने इन दिनों घर का माहौल कुछ अलग सा है,
वैसे तो काम कुछ भी नहीं, पर घर की सफाई में ही पूरा दिन बंधा सा है|

अब चाय पर चर्चा भी चाय के बिना है,
दूधवाले के मोहल्ले में कोई संक्रमित मिला है, ऐसा सुना है|

आज खाना खाते वक्त माँ ने कहा “अरे! आज सब्जियों के साथ निम्बू भी आए है. लाउ?”
कभी सोचा नहीं था निम्बू को देखकर इतनी ख़ुशी होंगी. Like seriously Wow!

घर से दूर रहकर लगता था कब सब खत्म हो और जल्दी से घर की टिकट कटवाऊ,
भगवान ने ऐसी इच्छा पूरी कर दी कि समझ ही नहीं आ रहा रोउ या गाऊ!

रोज़ लगता है क्या यह सब वाकई सपना नहीं है?
मौत का बढ़ता आंकड़ा देखकर रूह काँप जाती है यह सोचकर कि लाशों के ढेर में कोई अपना तो नहीं है?

कुछ लोग है जो अभी भी अन्धविश्वास और कुटिल राजनीति के झांसे में है!
इन्हे देखकर गुस्सा नहीं आता आश्चर्य होता है! मौत इनकी चचेरी बहन है, शायद इसी दिलासे में है|

वहीं कुछ लोग और भी है जो सर पर कफन बांधे गलियों और अस्पतालों में दिन रात जान बचाने में लगे है,
जिन्हे अछूत समझकर समाज की गन्दगी उठाने के लिए कहाँ जाता था, आज वही सबसे सगे है|

खैर बहुत हुई संगीन बातें, यह बताओ क्या चिड़ियों के नये जोशीले गानो पर गौर किआ?
यूँ लगता है हमें पिंजरे में देखकर हंसी उड़ा रही हो कि चलो आखिरकार असल जानवर को पिंजरे में बंद तो किआ!

एक चीज़ जो मैंने खुदके बारे में समझी वो ये है कि दुनिया की दौड़ में अब खुदको को नहीं भूलूंगी,
अगर बीच में ज़िन्दगी ने दौड़ना बंद कर दिआ तो खुदसे अनजान होकर क़ब्र में कैसे सोऊंगी?

यह वक्त हमें हर एक चीज़ की एहमियत करना सिखा रहा है,
याद ज़रूर रहेगा यह समय और आखिर रहें भी क्यूँ ना, मौत को करीब से दिखाकर ज़िन्दगी को गले लगाना सिखा रहा है|


Human’s block!

Numb thoughts, brutal lexicon, subtlety in ideas, lack of vigour and lost inspiration!
Are you able to join the dots?
It feels ages since I’ve tried to pen down something. There was this heaviness I was carrying which had soaked all my words and had made me incapacitated to carve the emotions.
People call it “The Writer’s Block”.

It’s quite bizarre. But having gone through this I understand what it feels like. People from all around were continuously nagging me to write and be consistent but somehow I was just pathetic to comprehend with them. Finally, I’ve decided to write about writer’s block instead of not writing at all!

Let’s take it from the top. This feeling I’m talking about is depriving and very consuming. It makes you feel exhausted and irritable because out of all the jobs in the world what seems the toughest is to write! The irony is that all your works and achievements fail to comfort and assure you that you possess writing skills. You keep looking for hope and inspiration which might somehow trigger you someday. But my dear friends, that just not happens!

Have you ever experienced something like this when you felt that suddenly you had dropped some prized possession of yours? Like your ability to relish the music of the hummingbirds, to find your cosmos between the brush strokes or to unconsciously tap your feet at the music!
Did you feel deceived? Deceived by your self!

In the rush of achieving deadlines, we sacrifice parts of our soul. It’s done so stealthily that we don’t even realise when did all those pearls slip off our baskets. Maybe because we’re very busy collecting stones.

Just sit back for a moment and understand what have all our efforts come down to regarding this present scenario of Coronavirus all around. The world has come to a halt and so have all our races. We don’t even know if we’ll get to move out safely once again and gear up! Doesn’t it feel like a dystopic dream? Oh yes, it does.
Why did we allow the worldly demands to attenuate our true callings? This is not just about any skill but every relation which we took for granted, our health, our responsibility towards nature and our duties towards the nation which we wilfully decided to skip onto as we were onto “Better things”.

Targets are important in life to give a perspective and direction to our actions but it should be us directing them and not vice-versa. We do have some purpose and aim in life but let’s be realistic instead of going all gaga about it. Analyse the skills which genuinely need your attention. The total of those skills is what defines you as a person. Let’s not miss onto that individual at least.

It’s the human’s block when we feel traumatized by unnecessary loads. Listen to your calling and let’s keep practising the skills and the art of living. Life would be life then.

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