Truth – A Saviour Savage

Have you encountered an all altering truth?

A truth that uproots your beliefs,
A dawning merciless to your opinion,
A realisation that shatters your faith,
An awareness resembling what you’ve felt alien?

When I look the truth in its eyes,
A reflection of mine is what I see –
Not an impression of who I was,
But an image of what I’ve come to be.

Truth’s a ruthless tyrant – there is no escape,
It becomes a complete circle; it engulfs me
But it is also the one that calls for my liberation,
When I become the truth, and the truth becomes me.

When all my certainty comes crashing down and only pieces of me remain,
I explore allies who have gathered themselves and kept themselves sane.

A Mind Caged (Sonnet)


A mind is born; the mind is caged,
In imposed patriotism and religious rage.
The mind sees light, it wishes to fly.
It asks for strength; but is asked why.

“Why do you wish to see dreams unknown?
Why make yourself feel forlorn?
Why won’t you heed what society tells?
Why would you want to be someone else?”

Else is nowhere close to who I want to be,
All I ask of you is to accept the innate me.
You’ll fathom if you listen carefully,
I am not one who blends with society.

Society demands surrender;  it forces its rules down my throat,
And in spite of that, if and when I succeed, all it does is gloat.

P.S. On the lines of the poem, I’d like to share with you a song close to my heart, from a movie close to my heart, by an artist close to my heart.

Song: Society
Movie: Into The Wild (2007)
Artist: Eddie Vedder

Without Her… (Sonnet)

Without her, the world’s a dark room.
I can’t see life, I don’t see doom.
She’s the cause and cure for all my troubles,
The light at the end of all my tunnels.

Without her, there’s no life in my stride.
I look for her footsteps, to walk beside.
It seems like a wilderness, while I roam;
She’s not here to hold me, to take me home.

Without her, my nights drown in tears;
My days don’t know frolic from fears.
Bring no love and get me no sympathy,
Gift me my life – just bring her back to me.

I sit motionless in the dark, waiting her arrival;
I can’t see, I can’t breathe, I can’t… She’s my survival.

Cynic – I : Episode 4


Episode – 4 : The Homecoming

            A sense of peace prevails now. The much needed smoking session has stimulated Cynic’s senses enough to bring order to her cluttered mind. She now carries a vibe strong enough to inspire inanimate humans to write stories. She reaches her hostel room and spends an hour cleaning every accessible nook and corner. Now that neither her inner space nor her outer surroundings seem confused, she sits down to write, her favourite pen in hand. Writing comes naturally to her and she is surprised to find that there is no estrangement between her words and her thoughts, in spite of her long sabbatical.

             The minute hand on her desk clock has crossed the same mark seven times since she has started writing. She becomes aware of the passage of time only when dawn’s first rays begin to illuminate strands of her hair, which have come forward to mention sweet nothings to her cheeks. She smiles to herself as she realises that she has been in the process of writing all night. Leagues of stories played in her mind, before she finally decided to settle on the one that is she is writing now. She seems content with her content, and finds that her writing has developed into a style she has never tried. The piece she has just finished is in the third person narrative, yet the writer within is celebrating the first of many autobiographical accounts, that are sure to come soon. She is unsure about the chances of her piece winning the competition, but she does not worry about that now.

            What matters is that she is back to writing stories, and the significance of this homecoming is magnified by her realization that she has figured out a way to be able to show herself to the world without any fear of judgement or be accused of blasphemy. All she has to do is resort to the third person. She now plans to reward herself for deciding to participate in the competition. She may lose this battle, but she has won a war. She decides to go through her piece once more. She starts reading aloud, “Geet feels lost nowadays. He wouldn’t confess this to you though…”


The End

Click on the following links to revisit any episode of your choice:

Cynic – I : Foreword
Episode-1 : The Imprisoned Writer
Episode-2 : The Raging River
Episode-3 : The Love-Hate Relationship
Episode-3(a): Cynic’s Thoughts As She Smokes [Song – Innocence of Youth]

Cynic – I : Episode 3


Episode – 3 : The Love-Hate Relationship

             Cynic decides to take a short break. A cigarette would relax her and help her focus. She ties up her hair in a quick bun, and paces out of the hostel. Her steps trod a path that leads to a Motor Transit station, which however is much more popular with the students for a reason that is quite unrelated to transport services – the easy access to cigarettes. Cynic goes there with the same purpose. She, however, would argue that the purpose is not really unrelated to transport. The difference in the transport she seeks is that it does not lead her to a geographical destination, but instead, transports her mind to a much relaxed state – a destination where her mind finally calms down. She looks around and sees that a minor fraction of the demographic is not really here for the destination, but for the joyride. These are mostly young boys, who have not grown their first bit of facial hair. She smiles at their innocence and tells herself that very soon they would find no joy in the joyride, and would come only to get to the destination. They would know the ride did not wish them well, but the destination would feel like home – it would be the only place they were used to being in. It would be dreadful to even think of not reaching home after a while.

            Cynic suddenly remembers the early days of her graduation in Bombay, when she was also a part of this same, innocent demography, which held slim, slow-suicide sticks with their lips, not for the feel of it, but for the look of it, for the charm of it. She had always been a rebel, but she did not possess then, the wisdom to know that not every rebellion was as rational as it was radical. A rebellious adolescence, minus the insight to control it, had led her through to an inescapable love-hate relationship with nicotine. Today, she regrets every moment of those days and wishes to go back to her non-smoking self, but then, her hatred for this habit is often overcome by the spurts of yearning that keep coming back to greet her in the most stressful of times.

                Unable to withhold herself, she lights up a death-rewarding cigarette, as familiar well-meaning hymns resound in the temple behind her. She tries to match the frequency of her puffs, with the beats from the temple dhol, but the time signature of the hymn is too fast, and she coughs. Achieving a high frequency of puffs might be difficult, but she knows the frequency of these coughs would definitely increase as she gets older. She returns to the thought of how an innocent youth had become the cause for her hideous habit. As these thoughts linger in her head, the same hideous habit comes back to take control. She takes a deep breath, relaxes her lungs and then takes a non-resonating puff, which starts another cycle of unrest for her lungs.

Click for the last episode, Episode-4 : The Homecoming

Click to read Cynic’s thoughts as she smokes [Song – Innocence of Youth]