One Life To Live

Saturday, July 4, 2026

Reverence of the Unframed

Precious. And Personal. That thought was more than what a thought has ever been or could ever be. It is more delicate than the first snowflake before it reaches out to touch the hard, muddled, very tangible earth. Undoubtedly, it is one of a kind like every snowflake but much rarer.

It probably has its destiny and one day... someday, it must reach earth to meet tangibility. But then it would not remain that fluff disc anymore, not for long. It will be real, yes, but who doesn't crave illusion once in a while!

Until then, I can't find it in me to let that translucence take away the breath of its presence. It is perhaps selfishness, perhaps fear, or a desperation to have wisdom beyond knowledge, or maybe something else altogether. It's that instinct to keep it veiled in the brightest light the creation could ever encompass.

Is it preservation or possession?

/ 12

: 153

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

A Door in the Dark

A knock on the door

A wooden door with a crack

A visible crack that was mended

Mostly mended three years back

With a color that did not match

I knew it was not what it promised to be

A second knock, a longer one

I should wake up and see

Through the glass peephole

But it does not show things

In the same light, or size as they are

The peripheral vision gets compromised

If someone decides

To evade the blind zone

Sometimes knowingly

I would know there's something

But never with a proof

Of what it could be

A third knock on the door

An impatient and anxious knock

One that could harm the crack

Or would it harm the door?

I know now who it would be

I know now the business

That must be there

But I am the cursed Cassandra

I know the horse that is there

And one that blessed eyes could never see

I must not answer the door

I must not wake up

'Who's there?'

No. No...

'Yes, how may I help you?'

No. The horse is there staring at my soul

The crack smirked.

Once more.

/ 36

: 195

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

June Walked On

Up the stream, summer in a hat

A straw hat made in spring

The sun had a deuce with winter

The blossoms had whistled then

With whispered hushes and cheers

The water glaring through a symphony

Half made, but still in the loop

Skipped through pebbles that looked in awe

Some it knew and few that were new

Laced in a register that flowed in a rush

The grasshopper flicked a rock's furrow

In the qualms of a breathless hop

The sparrow, the cuckoo, and the moon

Composed a lullaby for the sand downstream

With a silver lotion that smelled of stars

The second blinked in a dreamy glare

The glitter waved back from the water's edge

And the night walked on... through the peachy grass

/ 18

: 126 [156 s]

Monday, June 29, 2026

Between the Lines

A tie left loose

The fabric still perfect

In a hurried hurricane of footsteps

Through carpet-proofed hallways

And fluroscent-smelling lights

A crafted bouquet of intentions

Nervous or excited, hard to tell

Rushing through fountains

That turn and pause

To witness a bracelet getting lost

Among silky crevices of perfumed petals

Dwindling footsteps

Smiling Eyes

An unravelling watch hurdled

An assuring pen steadied

Paces soften

In Mangosteen framed stories

And then the dust settled, but

The breeze relished something new

That was not but still was new

Ranunculus and sapphire

And an ivory promise

In fabrics of conch and blue.

The tie... was still left loose...

/ 24

: 105

The Unscripted Senses of Worthwhile

Was it worthwhile

Jumping across the rife-struck riverstones,

Barely craving to be foot-dimensioned

Among street talk of the clouded crystal water,

Reaching for a grass flower,

That would be forgotten tomorrow?

Was it worthwhile

Leaning into the grumpy rack of clothes,

Desperately clinging to the remnant sandalwood scent

Of a life that once held them near for the last time

Rid of a coin-clad clue of an atomic cease,

Searching for a pair of ribbon strands,

That have surrendered their purpose?

Was it, with an ounce of risk, worthwhile

Flipping through those napthalene-infested pages,

Searching for the flair of ink strokes they housed once

Beyond the plains and shadows of valet-parked time

Among the skid marks of a hand

That had whispered its secret,

Gliding through those unsent envelopes,

That were never introduced to stamps?

Every lotus-fragmented part of a second

Every sky-draped expanse of an inch

Every neutrino-adorned thought of breath

That even the heart beat skips

And the air ignores.

Each. And. Every.

/ 27

: 165

Saturday, June 27, 2026

Beryl and a Serendipitous Cookie

A stroll in sleep in another world

That was not, but still was mine

A cookie of chance, in purple daze

Stories of rhythm in ecstatic glaze

Four years of revered and cherished pages

A world weaved in nine rhymed stages

A warm-flour scented tale of 27 books

Where anecdotes tell of word-held nooks

A redolent street of sweets in unknown words

The day breaths of light from two varied worlds

The enchantment of mundane, potent with smiles

Beryl-balanced and tranquil adventure for miles

/ 12

: 84

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

The Nail Polish Shelf

Mealprep for the week to be

In neatly labelled boxes and jars

Homemade sauces and ketchups

Curated for personal taste and tantrums

Couple tubs and ice trays of silly projects

Benevolently called icecreams and lollies

And many other things in the limited shelves

We never bothered to notice, or remember

In that small fridge from my childhood home

Was everything a world could hold

And still a place was assigned with care

For the dozen bottles of my frivolous nail polish

Time jogged and ran as fast as it could

And now there is a fridge that I call just my own

It houses icecreams with fancy names and tubs

And exotic sauces whose ingredients are, on me, lost

Mealprep remembers, follows tradition in the shelves

But they miss the variety, care, and some Love

Fruits never reach the baskets or bags

And veggies stare with anxiety at the food tags

An old forgotten cake calls in silent sobs during midnight

But during breakfast sits on my plate as a treat

The fridge is bigger than what it was

But it never kept a space for my nail polish

Not anymore, there never really was

That shelf is still there, filled with condiment sachets

And some redundant dreams that await

A weekend recipe that's never seen the light

Or a place on the stove or on a plate

I still have dozens of nail polish bottles

That never expect a zone of their own

The fridge is bigger in space... sure

But it has lost a s(h)elf in a land of its own

/ 33

: 263

Sunday, June 21, 2026

Inhaling Wild

I smell whimsies on crysanthemums,

The essence of unbothered beings

On the faint veins of white waxy petals,

Of a flower who never shares its name

And gets called wildflower instead.

They don't know its name

for they never asked,

clueless of their own game.

It has no traits of affinity of being wild,

Nor a care or obligation,

To fulfill a fate

It never wrote on its own.

It stays on a path or a field,

Or blooms out of crevices on concrete

To inhale the breeze as it deems fit.

Or seep in the sun, moon, rain, and dew

Through its skin, sans a manual or a cue.

It doesn't wish to fight the heat,

Or resent the blue of cold,

To shout resilience or power

To the wind, to be viewed as bold.

It doesn't boost fragranced spells

For the butterfly,

Or spiffy nectar for the bee.

A dream of wilderness,

Or a chance out of ashes

Not on its bucket, just spritz of glee.

And yet, it gets called wildflower

Instead of a name it never spelled out loud,

In the woods of blazed voices.

The act of not being an ounce of wild,

In a clearing where grasses too are not mild,

With an ecstatic need of being different,

Is but the sharpest tone of wild,

Nonconformance beguiled.

An arena of gladiator fights,

Reflectors and ring lights,

Brown iris and blue lens,

Oppose the wind,

For it does not make sense,

A guide to stand out, albeit dense.

But a glide through breezy bridge

To live and exist, and love with ease;

Colors are beautiful but never prioritized.

Stroll in shadows through summers

And pages of parchment through ink alchemized.

Wild but not... Not but wild.

/ 47

: 291

Tuesday, June 16, 2026

Close

Can Time quicken its steps, please?

Let this day be over before long?

I would sleep it off

But Sleep is not too kind either.

I would close the eyelids

But the flooded eyes would not let them shut

Can Time hasten on this one, please?

Can it run a little faster?

Let this day close its doors for good.

/ 9

: 60

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Light's Views

Flick a switch, but which one

There's light in darkness too

Glide on... to ask the sun's view

Burn a filament, burn a charge

One must endure an endeavor

Like stars burn hydrogen, at large

But light is not all it takes

There is more at the stakes

Reflect it must, to brighten up the day

A soul, a heart, or rows of corner hay.

Sans a core, light is eaten

Heard of black holes?

The fields are not smitten.

Bend it can, where gravity stays strong

Drifts off with non-chalance, (harsh!)

If matters of conscience are sparse

Enrich and nurture, lives and forms, it can

Cosmic lengths and quantum realms, it does span

A beacon, a twinkle, or a beam; be brave

For Light is both... a particle, and a wave.

/ 20

: 132

#Light

Eluded

Sleep eluded her as the night turned,

And took off to places beyond maps,

That promised no retakes, no returns.

A voyage a soul couldn't fathom,

Sleep whelmed her in every form.

Often unattainable, an allusion till now,

The eyes must take an eternal vow.

Minted through depths of unclear pathways,

Senses parked still but flew through space,

Sleep held her tough; she kept her grace.

/ 10

: 66

#whelm

Searching for the Dark

Inky blue blanket sprinkled in a pearly farm

The fiery balls masked with lily's calming charm

The snapshots from yesteryears are beyond the hum

Now riddled with electricity, powered conundrum

Cassiopeia and Pegasus, perhaps on a journey far off

Scorpius wandered around, went home, and let it drop

The Polaris, the guide of all, still must be there

But with neon blunders, they are found nowhere.

The lamps and lights, turn off the grid

Let them vanish, adieu I must bid

Let the daisies rule

Wishing upon Andromeda again, that would be cool.

/ 12

: 93

sky at night, but not the moon

Awaiting The Falcon

Chewbacca with sad orby eyes,

Abandoned and Aidless,

In human parking site,

That was a heart rending plight.

Was it calling out for the Millennium Falcon?

But Han Solo is long gone...

Rey might be around to feel the force;

She might come searching, steering the course.

Or do I intervene and let my car be a starship ?

Momentary maybe, but it would be wondrous, a cosmos trip.

But the tailback traffic won't be one with the force,

Maybe if we jumped to hyperspace, then of course.

But I am no Jedi, not with force too,

Stay strong Chewbacca, May the force be with you!

/ 14

: 105

June Treats

June adorned in summer till brim,

Untamed sunflower shadows dance on whim.

Nimble zephyr relish luscious fruits sweet,

Enamored in golden flowers' nectarous treat.

/ 4

: 24

Six words atleast

Bound of the Boundless

Perhaps, to whisper a clingy tale,

The silver‐grey cloud loomed closer.

There are forces imminent,

It heeds none... until,

It blocks the blooming sun.

Crepuscular rays play their part;

They peek with a hint and impart :

'O cloud, let it be known

You have descended much, beyond too close.

The sky is anxious; now, enough commotion!'

The stones and rocks gravel, awestruck;

They murmur and whisper

To let the river know.

The river ripples,

Though calm, composed, being at fore.

The cloud takes a step back

Stunned, it blushes blue

Offers a consoling hand

And tells its part, devastatingly true.

'Land and river, the line I have known,

Never has been and never will be blown.

The thirst of summer and ancient tales,

Tagged me along, by the blue-hearted trails

For a scent of earth water,

And the steely charm of the gentle river

From skies far off, I have trudged to hither

I shall recede, slowly and with steady steps,

That was enough, the delightful water scent.

In a moment of moments that has been

For another eternity, maybe until then.'

The cloud turned,

The twilight burned,

And for the greater good,

Simple peace stood.

/ 34

: 196

Dicey Destination

A bus, a flight, a cab, a heli

The route was straight

But such events do not happen daily.

All was planned and locked

Short trip bounded for two days

Until the mind wandered... on a flower's gaze.

Abandon the bus, but pay the price

Take the fastest plane on earth

And roll the destination dice.

Still a flower in play

But fate had other plans

Maybe a bird chanced a dance.

Flight landed elsewhere

In a valley from otherworld

Stranded in divine nowhere.

A cab ride of half a day

In roads of slippery heaven

Was there another way?

Heard of a waterfall, amazing and rare

Paused the cab, heli on cue (a dare?)

Not a seconds thought to spare.

Saw the waterfall, views from nowhere

A trip worth two lifetimes

Clubbed in transitions, here to there.

/ 24

: 138

#Journey

The Day The Sky Broke

An event of a day it was as such

Crossed cities and rivers

From angel hour and beyond dawn

Hasty breakfast, haste shelved on bench

A corner cafe or a brunch spot pop-up,

For a change...

One had work, academic championship to compete

Family in tow, support and holiday retreat

The day yawned its way to dusk

And back again after a day of silent rush

But then on a bridge across a river

Pitch black sky and warm lit roads

Twinkling headlights

From arrays of human drawn carriage

Anecdotes about supposed aliens

We playfully rummage

The lights grew, instant sun in seconds

The day was back...

We muted noises and saw

Was the light there, brighter than the sun?

Did day break for a minute and then was gone?

Or did aliens heed our voices and stories

And plug a proof-of-life on?

Stunned and shocked and confused and elated

Words lost coherence, our eyes we doubted

Still stopped for an evening snack

Sweet treats and desserts,

This day had a knack.

Slept off, planning dreams of UFOs...

The papers broke the mysticism -

An array of burning asteroids they reported.

(Albeit massive and rare.)

Bummer!

/ 33

: 195

about witnessing something unexpected

Fossilized Slush

Silky black roads drizzled in gloss

A smell of frozen dust, light in toss

Bright and blinding with specks of dirt

Old snow by highway, the tales they blurt

Snoozing seed prays it to move

Let cold begone, get grass its groove

Flakes melt and settle down the tube

Giant snow cone in a messy, tinted cube

Forgotten mittens and blown away scarves

Fossilized in the old snow, freezing air departs

Heater coils jamming up, Sun pleads

Melt away snow of memories, few hues the hour needs

/ 12

: 87

"old snow"

Frayed and Lost

Slow-brewed mornings

On edge of dawn

Toasted laughters

Walk through tomato patch

Smell of hibiscus, tickling marigold

Pinwheel jasmine

And a sip of chorus from birds

Old soul music that used to be new

Maybe a round of hide-and-seek too.

An afternoon nap

A scoop and half of melting summer

Stroll the dusty paths

A distant mountain that was near

The fire in its belly hazily clear

Songs and charades in evenings

Ursa major, Orion, telescope sightings

Homework and stories

A dinner that the soul cherished

Now the day begins at night

Planned but no plan in sight

Mornings vanish*

Evenings crash

Afternoon missed for nothing

Lost in paper-cut scars

Night screams and shrieks

For absent stars

A flower growing... in a field of wars.

/ 27

: 125

about something that used to be routine, but no longer is.

Stardust: Arrabbiata or Stir-fried?

Oh! The sky's about to fall

On earth or jupiter

Or on a dwarf pluto

Who could tell?

I see streaks of fire

Or are those shattered snow

Or maybe cosmic spaghetti

Whirring from a oily wok?

Was that parmesan though

Or shreds of cabbage

Melting and fusing

In liquid tomatoes of rosy rouge?

Oh! The stars are dropping beyond hills

Or asteroids escaped astray

Or flowers from snowy celestial orbs

Who could throw some light and say?

I see greyish strands of light

Or are those purple ribbons of dusk

Or maybe stir-fried buckwheat noodles

Craving a broth of umami-drenched tofu?

Were those julienned cucumbers

Or generous aroma of chives and egg

Dressed in soy sauce and vinegar

A summer breakfast or winter ample supper ?

Let the sky fall

Let the stars run around

Let the whirlwind scatter stardust

But a serving of noodles first.

Please.

/ 29

: 147

#Noodles

Pages

Saturday, July 4, 2026

Reverence of the Unframed

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

A Door in the Dark

Tuesday, June 30, 2026

June Walked On

Monday, June 29, 2026

Between the Lines

The Unscripted Senses of Worthwhile

Saturday, June 27, 2026

Beryl and a Serendipitous Cookie

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

The Nail Polish Shelf

Sunday, June 21, 2026

Inhaling Wild

Tuesday, June 16, 2026

Close

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Light's Views

Eluded

Searching for the Dark

Awaiting The Falcon

June Treats

Bound of the Boundless

Dicey Destination

The Day The Sky Broke

Fossilized Slush

Frayed and Lost

Stardust: Arrabbiata or Stir-fried?

About Me