Krikos (2017)

Krikos (2017)

I opened my eyes and saw walls all around. The symbolism of a restriction… of a limit. The stereotypes were formed. The Universalities were decided, yet it could never be known that the only thing universal is eternity. There is no known limit to thought. Therefore, one particular day… I didn’t just open my eyes. I woke up…. and I saw nothing. Because when you see ‘nothing’ … then only can you create ‘anything’. I didn’t go by the stereotypes. I didn’t follow the norms. Novelty is a direct aftermath of Idiosyncrasy. The idiosyncrasy of thought that is. The majesty and impeccability of this novelty can be compensated only by this Vertical Horizon of thought.

Imagine yourself walking inside a vertical bicycle tyre tube. For you, the General horizon shall rise upwards. If two such tubes were attached perpendicularly and scaled to a hundred times larger than the Sun, with the radial hole inhabiting the Sun itself, then it forms the ‘Krikos’; And the horizon rising upwards will be the Vertical Horizon of Krikos.

‘Krikos: The Vertical Horizon’ is a science fiction novel comprising the various struggles of humanity in a futuristic idealistic environment. The basic interrogative is “When we have everything then would the urge to seek more die?” What when all that we have been working for, and moreover ‘living’ for, has been achieved? Man has always thrived on his strive to prove his self-importance. Will this make man succumb to the archaic irrationalities to generate this so-called ‘Purpose for Existence’?

In this book, two stories run alternatively in parallel, chronologically a millennium apart from each other. The first, that is the ‘Diaries of Flex’, is the story of the creation of the Krikos along with the plethora of conundrums and secrets involved. The second story, that is ‘Into the Dimension’ is the current scenario of the Krikos which is drifting rapidly through the corners of the Milky Way and exploring its different ends a thousand years after the events of the ‘Diaries of Flex’.

Can the anthropocentric man combat his basic urge to explore… his basic need to know more? The gravity of this query intensifies when man came across another intelligent organism.

‘Krikos: The Vertical Horizon’ contests many such queries and provides possible answers to all of them. But the answer doesn’t always mean a solution.

 

DEV (2020)

DEV (2020)

There are stories prevalent in the world that we often perceive as incredible, crediting their sheer magnificence in doing so. But are they really mere tales of fiction? Or are we the ones being incredulous? Pragmatism has shaped the contemporary sceptic residing in our hearts to scrutinise everything we are told. But, living in a world that is millennia apart from the one narrated in those stories, can we actually know the truth? What if they were real? This very interrogative opens innumerable gates of imagination to explore.

Lastly, time seems to incessantly amplify the distance between the past and the future. But, someday, there will be something that shall overcome the persistence of time and remove that distance altogether.

This book will take you on a journey of one such ‘what if’. One of the greatest epics to be ever written in the World has been re-imagined. Utilising a little creative freedom, this book narrates the story from the perspective of one of the smallest characters of the said Epic. One would wonder how such a person whose role in the story was so tiny and often overlooked, would play such a significant protagonist in this alternative outlook.

The Mangoman (2016)

The Mangoman (2016)

The impossible of Yesterday is the Science of Today. The Digital Media has unified and enlightened the world to an unimaginable extent. Even Modern Politics is monopolized on the power of digitization. But the age-old classical methodologies of ‘Divide and Rule’ remain intact. Polarization has been the key to the task and venture of winning the people. Take a bunch of people and make them realize their specific pitiable conditions in contrast to some other segments of society, they will empathize and succumb to your leadership. The world is now at a stage where there is a need for a true leader, who preaches unification over division, who holds the virtue of service high above the sin of domination. We need that one Ideal Hero possessing the virtues of the comic Super Hero.

You make a poker face when you see a cat being saved from a tree by a superhero, don’t you? Let me ask you. What would you do if you were given the chance to gain the superpower of your choice for an hour? If I say that you can use it every day for an hour, then what? For how long would it drive an emergent stimulus to take a stand against the evil? For how long would it seem more predominant than meeting your partner, having a cup of coffee, eating a pizza, sleeping or hanging out with your friends. The adolescent mimic, the young braggart, the middle-aged avenger, the old anguished, which one would use it for some selfless good? Let’s witness and watch these questions being passively imposed upon one Oday (pronounced Udai).

Oday is the silver-spoon fed  son of a corrupt politician. All he has so far witnessed and known in life is the wrong. When an old blind lady wants to cross the road but is unable to, Oday would be the last one to help her. In fact, Oday would overlook her existence altogether. Moreover, Oday would never be out on the road to see her attempt to cross the road. He would rather be inside an air-conditioned velvet-interior car. One day, God decides to grant him with the very power mentioned above (for specific reasons). The very first thing which comes to your mind is “I was a better choice than him”. Apparently, anyone is a better choice than him. But is it so?

‘The Mangoman’ is a political satire, where the untoward and comical amalgamation of modern Indian politics with a superhero story, takes a critical turn. The hero with a common persona yet a special aura, only that hero can change the world. And the world is in a definite need of a prominent change. It needs a leader with only needs and no wants. Can Oday be the Leader? Can he become The Mangoman?

Shadows

Shadows

Love… a feeling so strange,

Often is vehemently sworn.

It is one that cannot be trained;

It exists in all but inborn.

.

It’s though not the same for all;

It’s stranger for some still.

A dream they can just recall;

A desire they can barely fulfil.

.

But why are they so different?

Isn’t their ‘love’ alike?

Compelled to be indifferent,

Why do they attract dislike?

.

What wrong had he done,

That society had him sacked?

He had just loved someone,

And he had loved him back.

.

Though always surrounded,

He found himself alone.

A suffocation unfounded,

Made them all seem unknown.

.

The revelation turned away friends

With whom he used to always roam.

He couldn’t have told his parents;

Fearing losing his family and home.

.

Trying his best to ignore,

The random giggles of bystanders;

Trust… he had no more;

Startled at the slightest murmurs.

.

Worse than bullies they were,

Whom he could easily recognise.

In the shadows, they created the stir.

In the light, they held a ‘guise.

.

But then came the usual twilight,

And the moments they shared alone;

Somewhat seeming infinite,

In the silence, when the stars shone.

.

Inhibitions became evanescent,

Fear turned its page;

They were amidst no judgement,

Love overshadowed the stage.

.

Ignoring all feelings of sorrow,

Bearing with all his pain;

Believing that each tomorrow,

Will bring all those moments again.

.

He just kept dragging through,

Living a day in a go;

Never did he have a clue,

That one day he wouldn’t show.

.

He sat there with an incessant hope,

As the Moon crossed the sky;

His worn-out will soon couldn’t cope,

Though, he still did not cry.

.

The shadows, now more prominent,

As he walked down the endless path;

The end was always imminent,

They stood against the ‘societal’ wrath.

.

That feeling of eternal bliss,

That he had never felt before;

That laughter, that smile, that kiss,

He wished he had some more.

.

He kept thinking all night,

How different it could’ve been;

What if they didn’t have to fight,

Or worry about being seen?

.

Fearlessly introducing each other,

As they listened to them talk endlessly;

Of how they met and got together,

As they welcomed them both openly.

.

It was though just a fantasy,

It was all that he could see;

More real than his reality,

Like the stars submerged in the sea.

.

He gazed at them in silence,

Even though they weren’t so bright;

The Sea was devoid of tyrants,

The Shadows couldn’t touch their light.

.

He leapt to reach out for it,

Doing something he thought he’d never;

Going where he felt he could fit,

To be one with the light forever.

.

The dark heavenly skies,

Made the leap seem worthwhile;

As it all engulfed his eyes,

He could only see that smile.

.

The thought succumbing his head,

Was that it all ended too soon;

‘Just a Little More’, his heart said,

As he looked at the fading Moon.

.

When will the world change,

And not have lovers be torn?

Love… A feeling so strange,

Only the Shadows do truly adorn.

The Seven Ages of a Woman

The Seven Ages of a Woman
With Joy amidst the mewling,
The bloodied cloth unfurled.
A sorrow began unspooling,
When she said… ‘It’s a girl’.
.
It was but their worst fear;
Claimed as ‘Curse of a demon’.
The options were ever clear,
‘Either a Boy… or a Burden…’
.
Silently in a noisy gloom,
It was now about acceptance;
They were all back home soon;
And then began their penance.
.
Raised in a so-called ‘palace’;
Material formed the illusion,
No… she wasn’t a princess;
The ‘palace’ became her prison.
.
Then came the adolescence;
And the innocent young soul,
Getting nothing but ignorance
From ‘Society’ as a whole.
.
School began her struggle;
Alone she walked that road.
Be it achievement or trouble,
Barely she got any support.
.
Even the little freedom she had,
Soon was rendered dead.
She hadn’t done anything bad,
But, for the first time, she had bled.
.
Slowly, Gracefully and Poised,
Forced to walk a given route;
Silenced at expressing choice,
She grew up to be a mute.
.
Barely pulling the anchor,
She completed her basic education.
Whether it was love or anger,
She had concealed all emotion.
.
Soon they could no longer tolerate
The weight of the ‘ever-growing’ burden.
So they found a robotic mate,
Whose family demanded a huge ransom.
.
It is a traditional societal construct,
Whenever there is a transfer of burden;
They were just selling a product,
The one they called their son.
.
Marital Life seemed different,
She regained the ability to dream.
But that dream was just apparent,
Short-Lived and not as it seemed.
.
That joy came from maternity,
When she started carrying a life.
She was only serving her destiny,
As the machine he called his wife.
.
Then came the judgement day,
And all her dreams were torn.
Fortune, for her, had lost its way,
Yet again… a girl was born.
.
She could never hope to be forgiven,
After having done that dreadful deed.
Thus, she was left forever forsaken,
For lending her womb to a female seed.
.
Then began the maternal damnation,
Trapped in the hopeless cave;
She still served them with conviction,
Just as that of a slave.
.
With Bones brittle but spirit alive,
She lent her service tirelessly.
Only used as means to thrive,
Otherwise abandoned helplessly.
.
The cycle of abandonment came to an end,
When her service became futile.
To a community home she was sent,
And found rest only in exile.
.
Sans teeth, Sans strength, Sans Sanity,
Dwelling in her long-lost dreams.
Sans friends, Sans love, Sans family,
She dreamt how it could’ve been.
.
Different would be her journey,
Plethora she could’ve obtained.
She could’ve reached beyond infinity,
If her wings were not contained.
.
The Kindle slowly fading within,
Devoid of all observers;
Her spirit once and finally gave in,
As she exclaimed her final words-
.
“I accept the crude reality,
Of what we cannot and what we can;
It’s a perdition enforced naturally,
To be a Woman in the world of Man.”
.

Roars of the Immortal (Dedicated to the martyrs of Pulwama)

Roars of the Immortal (Dedicated to the martyrs of Pulwama)

A nation that sleeps serene,
Unburdened by persisting turmoil;
For the burden lies unseen,
On the knights that guard our soil.
.
Serving the country selflessly,
Miles away from their own;
It is seldom that they get to see,
In only dreams they recall their homes.
.
But that dream couldn’t be true,
For the forty-four bravehearts;
Their reunion was yet due,
When their voyage was broken apart.
.
Unarmed, en route their nativity,
Mercilessly drenched in fire;
Their deaths don’t seek your pity,
Don’t need your whims and satire.
.
What they need is our hands united,
Disregarding faith, caste and region;
It is time to stay undivided,
For terror has no religion.
.
It is time to subside our fear,
And turn the defensive page;
To make the global corners hear,
Trebbles of the Indian rage.
.
Let’s face the faces of terror,
With the advocates and the pawns;
It isn’t time to show them a mirror,
It is the advent of a new dawn.
.
Those tyrants full of cowardice,
Let’s grab them by their heads;
And Look straight into their eyes,
And narrate a truth undead-
.
“If you think you can stand tall,
By daring to hurt even one;
Let us make you recall,
Behind him stand a billion.”

Welcome to the place called ‘India’

Welcome to the place called ‘India’

Welcome to the place called ‘India’;
A Nation so simple yet witty.
Beneath the yogic and cultural trivia,
Lies the land of an endless reverie.

The Bay, the Sea, The Ocean,
The Rivers, The Deserts and The Mountains;
Enclose the majestic nation,
Like a fort without an entrance.

So what’s there amidst the fort,
Beyond the Mantras and Snake-Charmers?
Many a muddy and barbaric sport?
Just a land of poor farmers?

A nation young and tender,
For the Global Scavengers Squealing.
Even with resources so slender,
It broke the Titanium Ceiling.

Innovating, Improvising and Creating,
Wonders for the world to see;
Across each and every domain and wing,
Of Business, Science and Technology.

The Great Granary of the World,
With a history of renowned philanthropists;
Where the military knights doth whirled,
And the Scientists bordering on Alchemists.

We Run and Lead the entire globe,
But we just don’t like to brag.
Look up and you would easily know,
Even the Universe dons our flag.

Our train to future has joined the race,
Even though we could start much after.
So what if it has a slow pace?
The acceleration is much faster.

Yet we give a shout to abyss,
Predominant humility in every iota;
With palms joint and a joyful bliss-
“Welcome to the place called India.”

The Road To Atlantis

The Road To Atlantis

Behold! The World of Imagination,
A Universe larger and much bolder.
It’s all true, not mere fiction,
Even though it never gets older.

Magic and Technology sit in the rule,
Bravery and Sentiment engulf all hearts;
Music redefines moments so cool,
Everyone perfectly plays their parts.

From Gondor to Gotham, Narnia to Westeros,
The immortal Manhattan and the mighty Thanos;
Lit the Light Saber and hurled the Elder Wand,
Came a subtle voice, ‘It’s Bond, James Bond’.

Flash and Quicksilver have a speeding bout,
Goku raises two fingers and Thor laughs out loud;
Katniss and Hawkeye form a tag team,
While Harley is busy applying her face cream.

Vibranium, Adamantium and Valyrian Steel,
Kal-El and Banner with an incessant zeal;
Descending with a Gauntlet to conduct the test,
It was indeed ‘The War of The Best’.

300 bold face the Dorthraki in battle,
Seeing all this, Jar Jar begins to babble;
“Yousa know what’s more funny than a war?
A conversation between Groot and Hodor.”

When Jack Sparrow encounters Spiderman,
He realises he was looking for Peter Pan;
Electro on his side, he thought he’d won,
There came the wrath of God Poseidon.

Amidst all these heroes so well-famed,
Came he who must not be named.
Accompanying him, an Omnipotent Invader,
Within a cloud of smoke, stood Lord Vader.

Whenever asked about his identity,
He only replied with the letter ‘V’;
Like the bald Assassin encoded with a number,
It was indeed the ‘Fifth of November’.

War almost over in the world of Fiction,
With tribes of Heroes having almost won;
Darkness stoops to the realm of desperation,
And Death Star fires its demonic cannon.

The razing infernos of Drogon and Smaug,
Fumed the evil and the notorious;
Decided after the fading of the smog,
The heroes surprisingly emerged victorious.

Gandalf and Dumbledore stood undamaged,
And Bilbo uttered- “Mischief Managed”.
Folding back its turns and bends,
The Road to Atlantis never ends.

The Ballad of Teenage Love

The Ballad of Teenage Love

Bright, blue and alone,
I lay in my wayward bed;
Recalling times past and gone.
The eyes… the insomniac red.
There I pick up the phone,
There the voice so heavenly.
I start in a wishful tone
“Memories never keep you lonely.”

“Life couldn’t be stranger!”
The words which came to my lips.
“I thought I was a lone ranger,
Now her number is on my finger-tips.”
I recalled when it all started
Like a romantic Young and Tender.
I got up and humbly stated
“It was the Third of November.”

The majestic festival of lights,
It made me very keen.
I guess I had ample rights;
As such the intent was clean.
Thus, I left a greeting message.
Unexpected was the reply.
So there I mustered the courage,
“I don’t talk to girls, but let’s try.”

Soon came the fateful day,
When I heard that beautiful voice.
My conscious lost its way;
It had but no other choice.
The talks became a regularity,
With them I soon evolved.
I felt there was some parity,
Some equation unsolved.

There was that sweet innocence,
The loneliness deep within;
A necessary nonchalance
Held by walls so very thin.
I’d known your need to express;
Your need to break those walls.
Although you spoke very less,
It was the best phase of those calls.

Soon I then realized.
I startled in all of hush.
It came as a real surprise
When I told you about the ‘crush’.
Then you soon reciprocated
On that cold winter night.
But I am really ill-fated
For my sister’s cameo was a fright.

I left thoughts outstanding,
Feelings partially conveyed.
For my ignorance withstanding
Had my exuberance fully razed.
The worst mistake of my life
Was not to continue that conversation.
I still regret my inner strife
For the advent of the ‘innocent’ was a bad sensation.

Three weeks of social isolation
Brought this curse upon me.
It was obviously an idiotic decision
So I accepted my fate solemnly.
But you suddenly called one day
And with that voice of an angel
“I missed you” is what you say
And put me in a life-threatening danger.

For my heart had nearly stopped,
My arms and feet all numb.
I believe I could’ve hopped
But I stood there all so dumb.
I still couldn’t openly tell
About the song I wrote for you.
I sang it in the school farewell,
Though the context touched a very few.

It encircled the colorful laughter
Trapped in my brain, in a file.
But had been expressed thereafter
Christened as ‘The Rainbow Smile’.
Then came your birthday.
My schedule was a little tight.
Chemistry was like my doomsday
Yet I called at twelve in the night.

So came the voice again,
Held my words in a clutch.
I was bound in a formal chain.
Her day demanded at least this much.
My shattered hope revived
When you wrote that poem for me.
“I have somehow survived
But this can’t go on for eternity.”

I planned my trip to your city,
But sadly you broke your hand.
I was fully dissolved in pity
And I had to cancel my plan.

So I lay in my wayward bed.
Months have gone by now,
Words I wish I’d said
Or could still say… somehow.
I got up as for a battle.
Like a Spartan ready to brawl.
“This time I won’t just babble.
I would say… Say it all.”

I sent a message very long
Ignoring opposition within.
“This time there won’t be any song.
Simple and Honest… Or Nothing.”
In short I said ‘I love you’
And there you pondered confirming.
“Yes I said I love you”
The shortened form of the affirming.

I took a heavy sigh
Like tons were off my chest.
I didn’t seek a reply.
Expression itself was a test.
I don’t seek your love,
For it is all yours to give.
I don’t seek your time,
You have your life to live.

Being you is difficult
I really do understand.
I won’t be the stereotypical
Rather lend you a helping hand.

This is a story in rhyme.
I won’t call it a love poem.
For ‘Love knows no binds’
Said by… an intelligent someone.

Rest of it you already know
So Yes I hereby finally conclude.
“Whatever I am, wherever I go…
I can just say… I’d always Love You.”

Dying Alone

Dying Alone

I’m feeling like I am dying alone,
Crying over the memories long gone;
But the darkness around me is crawling over.
Yet I’m gonna live till the dawn.

The righteousness when it goes down,
For it I may smile I may frown,
‘Cause the fire in my heart is getting colder,
I’m ripped from inside but I can go more further.

I’m here waiting for the one,
who owns my life and makes it fun;
I’m so lonely dying over and over,
The faintness inside can be no closer.
I can’t take anymore I’m done.

My love’s erased…
This is what I have chased.
But this time,
Don’t halt;
Seeing what I have faced.

The gentleness that I shall see,
Is what I want forever to be;
The clear skies will recall,
‘Is it My heart that shall fall?’

When time goes by I can be no older,
I still seek what I want,
Life is yet not over.
I’m so lonely dying over and over,
The faintness inside can be no closer.
I can’t take anymore I’m done.

My love’s erased..
This is what I have chased.
But this time,
Don’t halt;
Seeing what I have faced.

‘Cause I’m feeling like I’m dying alone.
‘Cause I’m feeling like I’m dying alone.