A lie was said
So perfect
And beautiful,
And real!
A real Lie!

A lie was believed
So deep
And fitting,
And true!
A true Lie!

A lie was lived
So pure
And enough,
And genuine!
A genuine Lie!

A lie was dead
So stiff
And gone,
And done!
A done Lie!

God Bless



I woke up today, as usual, to a lazy morning. And then struck a sudden poetic thought, “..the demons of darkness have slept, as the spirits of light are waking up..” These lines were echoing in my mind, all day, only to realize that we tend to associate ‘darkness’ with demon, and ‘light’ with spirit. And deepening further, that demon must mean something bad though spirit should mean good, and dark is bad while light is good! The prejudices, mental setups cheat and mock us on a narrow lane, though we claim to be broad minded. Now this should make a quite serious post. But i wanted to write something different and came my attempt in poetry (after a long time) Dawn!

Dawn and Dusk follow each other, and in way to represent them, I wished to repeat the first words of every line of the poem, in a symmetrical fashion. And here is my Dawn (literally, as i’m waking up from a stint from blogging!)

The spirits of dark,
are to rest.
And then woke up,
those of light,
warm and bright.
Their warriors shining,
upon the world,
as we know.
The chants of song,
of the lore,
by the priests,
to the light,
rendering charm
and glory,
rendering beauty,
to the faith,
by the folk,
of the soul.
The wind blows,
as light rises,
upon every tower,
their spire,
warm with the ray,
those reaching
and shining,
are who,
The spirits of light.

God Bless


A quick, random poem, as I keep wandering about life, lying on the bed, and the waxing moon peeping into my room, to say hello

To the abounds
of happiness and sadness,
for they make, and break,
the material, in the possession
of me.

To the vast stretch
of sky and earth,
for they bless and support,
the life, of which
is me.

To the harshness
of heat and cold,
for they soothe and comfort too,
in times of need,
very dire

To the couple
of Body and Mind
within whom I live,
for they guide and misguide,
the journey of me,
the soul i’m


God Bless

Vacation Chronicles ~ 2

The stones are alive!

Continuing from my previous post – Vacation Chronicles ~ 1, here I go with my second post. Without any explanation, by the end of this post, you would know why ‘The stones are alive!’

Standing at the threshold
of the mighty and impressive
Chennakeshava Devasthana*,
I wonder,
Do I bow to the Lord
Or the spirit of the sculptors?
Then, I feel His charm
And I bow to the Lord,
who dwells in and as
the soul of the sculptor,
And of the stone!

The following pictures were taken at the ChennaKeshava Temple complex at Belur, Karnataka. ChennaKeshava expands to ‘Chennagi Iruva Keshava’ which means the Handsome Keshava, in Kannada. His temple is beautiful, but His charm is matchless!

Chronicle to be concluded in next post Vacation Chronicles ~ 3 – Melkote

*Devasthana = Place of God ~ Temple

***The pictures included in this post were taken by me***


God Bless

Knew it!

Posting a short, after a long time!

Knew it!

She knew, and also that he knew it.
He knew, and also that she knew it.

Neither of them wanted to each other, tell it.

It wasn’t ego. Nor a blind skepticism.
Nor a false hope in destiny.

But just didn’t want to tell.

He spoke about false crushes.
And she spoke too, her awesome cock-and-bulls.

Neither did they plan, nor did they worry.

Good friends were they, for long.
Where did the love come from, knew neither him, nor her.

Was it really love? Came this doubt never!

Their laughters increased, and their confessions too,
Except that one, but does it really matter.

Because she knew and he knew too.


God Bless

The song of judgement

One can have cool head, not reacting much to the happenings around. But mind is one thing which is ever inquisitive to travel deep into the forbidden areas. One fine afternoon I was travelling in bus, listening to Let it Go and then this poem happened.
There are things that aren’t perfect,
In and around me.
The cause of which,
Doesn’t trace its roots to me.
I’m told to accept them
And embrace too.
As nothing can be
And should be perfect.
I understand and agree.
But where were and are
These voices,
When I did things
That weren’t perfect,
That didn’t meet the standards
Which I didn’t set.
When I was judged,
And accepted not
For meeting not
Their standards.
Well, the past is in the past.
The stones that stand
The test of time,
Will live, to sing
The song and the story
Of the past.
The wounds have healed
But the scars remain.
And these may disappear too,
Along with a serene sunset.
Here I stand,
Accepting the judgement
Of none, but One.
Raised by the hands,
That wanted to make a gentleman.
Will live so forever,
Not succumb to the pressure.
Let the world respect a unworthy.
But I will stay true to those
Whom I consider worthy.


God Bless