I’m damned

A life less dead


There’s no unrest around me


For freedom, peace or brotherhood


No pain, no endeavor

No mate, no love


Youth stained


The worldly-wise hail “Greed is good”

The trouble makers chant “Hare Rama Hare Krishna”


Capitalism will always find its way
War or stimulus, either way
Red flag nation is the destination


Mergers and acquisitions
You bet, that’s the game


Warren Buffett, Bill gates are best sellers
Good book pale decays


I’m damned
Dead burdened by installments
Taxes and dry days

The money lenders
Then, were well-behaved
Now, the recovery agent knocks me down
When I fail


That’s not all
NGOs and Politicians wise up after sun sets

Gandhi features on funky t-shirtsIMG_8462
Where does it all end?!
“Care for a drag?”IMG_1527
I’m damnedIMG_8827
So damnIMG_8836



Twirling under the stone
Marked years
I consumed
I wonder
It’s been awhile
She caressed
Young marine’s marble

She’d visit often
Though she never acknowledged me
Just a passing glance
My oh my!

Later when she’d go
Marine would cry
Give me sleepless nights
Prayed, she finds another guy

I was jolted awake
Sound of gunshots
When the marine and I became neighbors
I noticed her for the first time
Just like the last time…

A long time gone past
And I wonder
It’s been awhile…

Happy Birthday


jolted awake
held upside down
in the malodor of a clinical hand.

the green masked monster
lifted me back, intently staring at me.

he wasn’t alone
white clad, a green masked jury
encircled me

a conspiracy brewing in their vicious minds
behind their shadowy eyes…

where is my cocoon?
what have I done to deserve this hell?
hysterical, I screamed.

the evil forces smiled in victory
holding the culprit, awaiting my verdict…
turned to the woman on the bed
sweated out, unsteady…

i am bloodied for a crime, i didn’t commit
i cried, she smiled

benefit of doubt
they cleaned me up
wrapped me in a sheet, swamped with
laundry stink

a dark cloud hovered
held me in his arms
i had never seen him before
he never appeared before
when I cried help
amidst chaos

i jaded a smile

Mottled Night


a hooker on her first night out
is this date like other dates?
a scribble in her diary
first time…no man seemed worth the pain
i was so keen to endure
then he and another and him
And that one, o boy

tonight, she’ll bare her moans
to a man
who’ll pay her green, she needs.
“what kinda jerk am i about to meet?”

sweat laddered pot belly
porcupine hair, piercing her insides
eyes pressed shut, twitched face
pearl harbor, hiroshima, finally the cold war

she mocked often her ex-boyfriend never timed more than 8 1/2 minutes,
tonight, she got no choice but frown
if her client lasts longer than she anticipates
intoxicated, infused by a pill
she dreads

outside a shadowy hotel, neon lit
car halts
her countless thoughts pause
she turns to her pimp behind the wheel
he’s got two bits of advice for her and a threesome pack
her savior for the night and many nights to follow



Await : it’s been a while. Talk to me

Talk : Lies

Lies : Hell no..but your point of view. Right?

Right : I never was

Was : I am. look at me..Please?!

Please : smile please

Smile : my poetry does’nt

Poetry : cry

Rhyming poetry : try a cry

Laugh : after a burst out cry. Fake it for the mirror

Fake : You excelled everytime

Time : a crippled walk

Crippled : by your thoughts, not a moment goes by…

HOLD : she said

STOP : she did not




call out for fernandes
you’ll meet a fernandes
any restaurant or a bar in Goa
you got to find one
maybe two

i had but found a forsaken table
in a odd corner
by a stupid well
propped up with a drab metal bucket
an old portuguese house, now a colonial cafe

i dread stepping alone
in joints like such
that has no bar counters, no bar stools
no barkeeps
but a table of two or worse four

i needed a drink badly
“Was I loud?”
Puny nose, squeaky eyes
lips like two thin blades
chop-chop monster frowning at me

“fernandes, large rum and a beer pint.”
i sneaked a glance at her
her fiery eyes glued on me
waiting for a sign
any sign to tear me apart
“ahem..fernandes, get me a repeat, i hate to wait”

two on table no 6
i could hear her squirrel
black halter, back facing me
curvy neck
few strands of hair
waving me hello
guy with her was smothering his belly
severe case of ulcer

table no 5
tender face, nice smile, gentle eyes
paused on me
i let her go
she was cute
i had to

table no 11
two quiet couples
mid-life crisis

right then
she walks in
and I liked her, very much.
strawberries chimed on her fluttering feathers
streaks of red splashed on my cheeks, a blush

I couldn’t take my eyes off her
I didn’t want to
Her loose white shirt
top two buttons undone
she looked at me
i smiled
she smiled back
lit a cigarette
surfed her bag
pulled out a book

Please Turn Over. Continue….
The author had her




a tad of joy
a bin of hurt
my life – apparent trivial,
beyond the high walls
i hear the self-indulgent celebrations..

it’s time, I sense
life will finally come by,
untie the knot
let me drift

blood – fresh,
from the nails…
He smiles.

i begged Him
to see me just this once;
comfort my writhing soul.
tired and frail
i am unsure of a decent burial.
my final prayer.

fresh blood twining down my nails…
He smiles.

by invitation only

When one realizes that life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels. –Edward Dahlberg, Reasons of the Heart


I have on sly made good use of the above quote, many a times and trust me if you have experienced Mumbai’s swarming rains, you’ll agree with my “Runaway, save a poet” propaganda.

Destination – step on the gas, roll.

When not sure, I usually take Mumbai – Goa highway cause if nothing works out, Goa is the quintessential destination for me. In fact any time of the year my regular bar “Mango Tree” and the Russian babes in Goa are a perfect rescue when in need. Don’t get wrong ideas, please. Russians with their limited English-speaking ability “hello, beer, money, tequila, good night, smoke a joint, thank you, FUCK YOU” that’s all they know which makes them quite reliable to pour my heart out, my money too.

Fate though had a surprise in wraps for me and I landed up in a village, deep in the interiors of Maharashtra where there is no electricity, no mobile network but rice fields aplenty, pretty houses made by the families themselves who live in it, a river stream and one utility store.




Have you ever called a friend, a relative asking if you may sleep over their place for a night or two? At first instance, you’d rather say “I better check myself in a hotel room”. Now try a village in India, knock on a door, any door, request them and they’ll let you in. 9 out of ten times, they will. So here I am. A family of three.(I’ll avoid delving into names and details. Try and make this a quick read. I understand. 21 days of blogging, remember?)

My first meal in this house, is served lavishly on a steel plate. Later find out, they eat on banana leaves, the river stream is a distance away and it takes a few rounds to bring water enough for bathing and cleaning. Banana leaves make sense, totally. So, next day, life returns to normal.


Notice her smile. It’s a saying in India to treat guests like God. Though not relevant nowadays especially in urban cities but rural India still believes in spite of their humble dwellings and limited resources.

They cook on firewood. Most locals barter their produce with fellow farmers depending on each other’s needs. The rest is sold off to a city market 120 kms away.

As the ritual goes, women of the house serve meal to their family and guests first, later eat alone. An Indian custom in villages, you cannot change but this couple works together in their farm and equally participates to run household errands but primarily man deals with the world and brings home money to his wife, his trusted partner.(Picture below, I requested him to pose with his wife while she ate.)


4 days in this quiet village was enchanting. Slept on hard floor, no fans, organic fresh food. “A writer, a writer” they told their neighbors with pride. For them education and a government post, a fixed salary is a dream life, they yearn and labor for their kids, a stable future, lesser hardship.


As for me, this boy reminded me of my lost childhood, I knew not then the value of education, family, friends or love, took all for granted. An ignorant fool.