it’s simple fractions –


it’s simple fractions –
a sliver of each
day spent finding
fault in others
is a slice
of a
lifetime lost
for one’s own

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Saw a short film today on communal violence in India.

It made me feel sick. and terrified. 

No it is not that I am oblivious to the violence in India and in the rest of the world but it is easy to forget it or block it to a large extent sitting in the comfort of your work place or home.

Until something like this shakes you till you feel your bones clatter in fear and pain and disgust and anguish.

My feet feel numb.

I want to go and tell each person we are the same. you and me. Same. The blood that runs in our veins is same. we come from the same earth. we look at the same sun. the same sky. the same moon. 

you strip down to the basics and you will find that we are just people. not races, not religions, not castes… PEOPLE.

i am not even feeling angry which is my usual reaction. i am scared. i am scared of how our minds work. how powerful is the influence of so called religious beliefs. how quickly we can turn into animals! how we shut out logic, dispel compassion from our systems and become these horrendous monsters apparently following a God!!

how can a GOD love differently? how can a GOD have biases? 


Episode 3


“v r tlkng. Stuff at tat.” She texted her roommate. She was not the usual share-all-with-the-BFF kinda girl. So she believed and wanted the world to believe. Yet, when it came to him, it was different. She needed a sounding board to be able to deal with an eccentric emotionally detached boyfriend. She needed to vent out her anxiety at where she was headed to, at where they were headed to. So she shared, a teeny weeny bit, but she did. Stuff, was high on the list of things shared, for she always felt he remained aloof, on an island away from her as it were.

She sat there behind the diner, smoking her 8th cigarette in the last hour. His punctuality was nothing to write home about. Heck he didn’t even remember promising a meeting at times. She was used to it by now though. She was used to him, for reasons she could never fathom. May be, cause he let her be as well. May be it was just blind love. She trusted him enough to bear with her insecurities about the relationship.

She sat there, on her 12th smoke, waiting. The diner light flickered to a silent death. The street, wet from the rain earlier in the evening, glistened with a dim glow. Sitting alone watching the rain soaked roads was her favourite thing in the world once. Hours went by as she stared at the puddles the rain left behind. She heard the puddles tells stories of the worlds high above the skies, the water singing as the light wind stirred up ripples in it. She loved being one with the silence of a wet rain soaked road, vulnerable, exposed, drowned in emotions like her soul. She loved being alone. That was, however, before she met him.

Her feet lumped into the pavement as she checked her watch for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. He was late by a good three hours. She stood up and started walking back home. As she lighted up another stick, a silent sigh left her lips. It is okay, she said to herself as she started walking away from the diner. Where was he? She thought of texting him, but knew it would be of no use.

He sat on his bed, stunned. His hands trembled, his forehead glistening with perspiration. His mind raced across a maze of a zillion thoughts, trying to recollect memories and make sense of the present at the same time.  Beads of sweat ran down his temples, over the swelling veins waiting to burst off his reddened face any time. His eyes fixed at the box in front of him,  he looked as if possessed by a force beyond his control. It couldn’t be possible, it was but a dream. Or was there more to it? The box that lay in front of his eyes on his bed threatened to change his existence for good. What did all of it mean? His eyes searched for answers that weren’t for him to know. Not yet for sure.


Episode 2

“You are late. Cough out the dough…come-on fast now! I gotta go” Sam pounced on him, appearing out of thin air, demanding her spoils of a bet she always seems to win. Forever late was an epithet he had come to live with after all these years. He walked ahead as if nothing happened. It was nothing new anyways, for he was late always.

Late at understanding that the universe meant for him to face troubles at every step.  Desertion, betrayal, deceit, two faced animals populated his world, and he was always late in seeing their true colours. Sam was the new addition to this dark world of his. His heart wanted to trust her, his mind warned him otherwise.  

“Hello! Mister! Still here?” Sam interrupted his train of thought. Three years since they knew each other, and yet Sam was a lot of a mystery to him. He liked her that way nonetheless. Deciphering her and her ways compensated for his inability to understand his dream. AS strikes grew on the calendar on his bedroom wall, his triumphs of slowly but surely getting to terms with Sam’s wild energy and zeal for life served as a compass that guided him. Sam was good for him, he had come to realize. Sam was for keeps.

“Sixty minutes of theology! I wonder what’s it got to do with design and symbols! I mean I came here to create! Not rust my mind with mumbo jumbo from nether world” Sam continued her rant noticing in the same breath that he looked distracted. “Been drinking all night again have we?” she asked. “How do you even retain your employment at the diner with this” she waved her hand condescendingly at his unkempt self , mocking him the way only she dared to.

He smiled a wry smile. “Aren’t you kinda getting late for the next class?” he asked her, walking ahead straight to his locker. “ Ill meet you at the diner post my shift in the evening? Got to tell you stuff.” Worlds slid out of his mouth with the practised nonchalance of a dope head. She shrugged her shoulders, now used to his laid back self, as he sped ahead and vanished into the cafeteria. “Stuff? So finally we are talking!” she muttered to herself and took the left turn to her class.  Stuff should be interesting, she thought in her mind, as the class started taking her along into the abyss of dull boredom. 

episode 1

It was familiar terrain; he could smell the memories of a time gone by. He walked ahead on the rocky surface as usual, struggling to find his way ahead in the pitch dark surroundings. Yet his mind knew what was ahead, he remembered every moment every next step like the back of his hand. He trudged ahead, bumping into the large cauldron in front of him. He hurt his left toe, just like all the other previous times that he was here. His toe hurt; a familiar hurt by now. It is strange how despite knowing it for years, pain never ceases to pain.

“Holy shit” he muttered under his breath, just like the last time. And the many times before. He moved ahead, and stepped on the trap that lay waiting for him every time he was there. He slid through, the familiar scent of cold damp water flowing filling his nostrils. He closed his eyes as he fell with a loud thud on a bed of pointy rocks, bruising his back and legs. His eyes opened only to see a bright white light emerge from ahead. 

The light always emerged at the exact same second; not a moment early or late. The light always managed to blind him out completely, a sharp contrast perhaps to the utter darkness he slid through from, or just his mind playing games, for a few seconds after the light emerged each time, he would go completely blind. A searing pain would shoot through his head, as if fine needles were eing poked into his eyes. And then they would descend.

Shiny, golden like the rim of an early morning sun. Shimmering like they were dew drops dancing on the blade of grass in the meadows.  Alluring, like the sweet voice of a nightingale. Enticingly deceptive in appearance, like the mocking bird taking a dig at your curiosity. The two golden beans would descend down in the white light,  swirling around each other, entwined in an embrace of eternal love. They would swirl each time, the same way they did the last time; and pause right at eye level, for him to see them for one last fleeting second before the bang.

The bang, was the climax he always dreaded. A loud noise, pierced his every cell as an explosion of energy beyond the imagination of mankind took over his self. He would feel the flames from the explosion seer his body, his face, his hands, even as the noise threatened to break open his eardrums. That was when he woke up. Precisely at that very moment, every time without fail.

He woke up today as well. Sweating like a pig, panting like he just had ran a marathon, fear written all over his visage, he woke up in a sudden jolt.  It was the familiar dream he saw every single night of his life, for the last fifteen years.

Getting up from his bed, he walked up to the calendar on his wall. Strike 44; he crossed the day out in the week. He was dreaming the dream more often of late, it seemed more real than ever. He didn’t dare tell anyone about it.  College life does not take kindly to dreamers. Certainly not the kind who sees shimmering beans fall from nowhere while asleep. He kept the dream a secret from everyone. Even from Sam. 

He looked up at the clock. It was ten past twelve. He was late for class. Yet again cause of the dream.


The Letter Box


I have little bits of souls in me.

A last goodbye

A stolen kiss

A deluge of emotions

Of a pining lover

A brother’s wishes

A mother’s prayers

A son’s reassurances

A daughter’s love

A grand pa’s stories

A grand child’s wishes

A bit of a brand new soul

A whiff of a soul departed.

~Geetanjali Joshi

(Picture: Courtesy Thiru)

The Face


The wrinkled face

Held many stories

Dozens hidden under each soft fold

Some which I had heard

Some which were never told.


The strong hands

Once had helped me walk

As I sometimes stumbled

The palms are now a story in themselves

On soft yellow paper crumpled.


The eyes, tired

with time and age

still smile but barely see

The eyes that used to smile

dreaming up dreams for me.


I bury my head deep

Deep in the lap of time

She gently strokes my head

In that quiet gentle corner

I found my world instead.


~ Geetanjali Joshi

(Picture: Courtesy Thiru)

The Blank Wall

staring at the blank wall

empty sounds fill the mind

words await a way out

thoughts like rain to fall

staring at the blank wall

eyes painting a picture quaint

of u , of me, of us and things could be

heed will you the silent call

staring at the blank wall

dreams refuse to visit tonight

searching for a window perhaps

to talk amuse, perhaps enthrall

staring at the blank wall

a voice aching to be heard

an emptiness , hollow sunken

threatens to undo it all

staring at the blank wall

i plead the mind to rest

to calm some flared nerves this once

for it is just a blank wall