..And he never could realize,
When was it that the perfect life just passed him by?
There had been glimmers of hope the entire while,
Plucked away, a shimmer at a time.

If he put his thoughts coherently enough,
He could see what he once was.
His lofted vanity and buoyant mannerisms,
Even if it all were a mask.
Should never ever have,
He laid bare his naked self for a few,
Sold was his soul, and he cut himself some new.
He looked at the abyss and the abyss glanced back,
What is the question he never could attack?

The voices, they now dictate what he needs to do,
He submitted to them long before he knew.
They scream sometimes, but that’s just fine,
As long as his hollow shell pours itself some old wine.
His speech gets hoarse, the bones creak as he walks,
But the voices assure him that it’s the way of the lord.

But somedays, sometimes, they go on for a retreat,
As the clouds lift, he begs for another dream.
And thinking of dreams, he shudders and cries,
Weren’t they what got him here with their beautifully constructed lies?





 image courtesy Leonid Efremov


Lie with me for a while.
We’ll build castles that float in the sky,
And we’ll climb through the clouds,
to visit them by.

I’ll tell you stories that you may have never heard before,
And you appear intrigued like you didn’t see the twists coming at all!
We’ll laugh and talk and smile,
Every few minutes, steal a look into the others’ eyes.
The parallel universe, wouldn’t it be the best place for us?
No one could find us, no one but us.

We’ll jump around the places from time to time,
Travel in the old English carriages, and drink ourselves fine wine.
And we’ll stop in the desert and lie under the billion stars,
Maybe travel up north and cause ripples in the lights up far.

We will do this and so much more,
And it’ll all start here, my love,
In your gentle arms, we’ll travel up and above.



Lost Forever



“Oh not another one about me”, she said. “Aren’t you already bored of this muse of yours? Wouldn’t you want to look for some other inspiration? Your writing will become stale, mister!”, she toyed with him in that voice of hers that always used to make him go weak at his knees.
Today, as he looked back to this recent set of memories that came flooding by, he cursed himself one new. Why was he stupid enough not to keep reminding her that she is the one, that she is all the inspiration that he needs in this life.. and some more. Why were his actions so different from what he felt inside? Who was that he was lying to the whole time- whom, but himself?
“You know you can share sometimes. Sharing is good, it wouldn’t make you less of a man- how, how difficult is it for you to tell what is going on inside that poker face of yours?”
“Oh it is not that complex of a rocket science, my love. Just look in to my eyes”
Was it really that hard? Why couldn’t he have held her beautiful face at that very moment and planted a kiss that echoed his emotions. Why couldn’t he have cried the tears that he was fighting to hold to show her that he was sorry. Why couldn’t he make her see that the most beautiful thing for him in the world was to see her smile, and knowing that he was the reason behind that smile. That she was the person who made forever seem too short of a time.
“How did we end up at this place? We had started so perfectly, we had the world at our feet.”
“I don’t know, princess. You tell me”
Why was retracting to his shell, the best response that he had most of the times? Why couldn’t he admit that it was, after all, his fault that it did not work. Why couldn’t have he explained it then and there that love is all the small little things that they did together, which seemed insignificant to the naked eye, but whenever he looked back, these little moments were the highlights of his life. He had never understood people that very well, and they didn’t understand him that well either- but she has always been the special one, hadn’t she? All he wished from life was his art and to be the creator of his own universe, paint something anew, every single day, and she let him. Little did he know that he would be consumed by the world that he had created for himself and leave everything behind. Including his smile.
“What would you do baby, you know, if we ever fall apart?”
“I don’t know, darling. It will take some time, but you know me, I will be alright.”
These damning words! He remembers it as clear as the day he said those words. Did he not realize then what would he miss? It does take to lose something to understand the true importance of it, but the full realization of his naivety killed him to this day.
Each of the moments, a chilling sensation of what was not his; each of the tears, a morose reminder of what could have been.


Room – movie review


You’d read the movie description and might ponder if this would be anything remotely interesting, if at all. Make no mistakes, this slow paced adaptation of the book is excellent by all accounts. Brie Larson who plays Joy, the mother, delivers an impactful performance and William Macy is excellent as usual with the short role he is at in the movie. But the star of the show is the nine-year-old actor, Jacob Tremblay (Jack). He carries more than half of the movie on his slender shoulders effortlessly and with such maturity that you forget that this is a child actor that we are talking about here!


The movie showcases some of the most powerful emotions and shades of the human nature with delicate subtlety. It discusses the adaptability of the human mind by making the audience question how “relative” is reality when you see a room as your world. And the close connection between a mother and a child- they are the two people for each other in the whole wide world- is an extension of the womb and you cannot escape the feeling that if Jack sees the world outside for the first time, the experience would be nothing short of rebirth.


I cannot discuss it any further because of the fear of sending a spoiler or two your way. This is easily one of the best movies of 2015- it is powerful, funny, realistic and absolutely incredible. Be warned, it has the capacity to dig out a tear or two as well.

Do watch!

The Hateful Eight – movie review


A tale of blood, suspense and mistrust.

Tarantino has made this movie for his fans. If you aren’t acquainted with his work, start with Reservoir Dogs, do the Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill and Inglorious Basterds. Then jump on to his more groovy work with Death Proof, Natural Born Killers and Grindhouse. (Django was too commercial a Tarantino work for me). Now you are all set. Get ready for a three-hour long saga looking at eight people, more or less, and getting enthralled and amazed.

The suspense in the movie is genuine- you are at the edge the whole time figuring stuff out and making the connections so that you can go in the end like aaah- I knew that! But when has Tarantino been this simple, and I think it is marvelous that he has been able to create so much with so few characters. The dialogues are extremely funny- dang dark humor, the plot is thick, you cannot point out a finger to who lies, and to someone who is living on the part of the globe with snow all around, the cold conditions on which the movie has been set gives you the absolute chills.

Samuel L. Jackson steals the show along with Jennifer Jason Leigh, Kurt Russel is brilliant, Micheal Madsen is surprisingly old- one always wonders how come he hasn’t appeared in more movies, and Tim Roth can be confused with Christopher Waltz for one half of the movie! This film has all the Tarantino quirks, people vomiting blood, shots to the head with brain splatters, a quiet peaceful symphony with the most intense and disturbing scene that creates a blizzare effect, extremely funny dialogues at the most unthought of circumstances (diaaaaabooolicaaal biiiiiiaatch, dialogues between Jackson and Bob the Mexican), some lovable poor characters who die for nothing, and this film has Mr. Quentin at his unrestricted, unstrained best.

One of his best movies- it was an experience to say the least. And to imagine Tarantino nearly scraped off the project because of the leaked script!

The Big Short- Movie Review


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big short.jpg

“The truth is like poetry and most people hate poetry”

How do you make a movie about the biggest financial meltdown in the history? Quite simple- you present the facts as there are and you stay as close to what happened as possible. Ah, simple, but then how do you stop your movie from turning into a documentary – because there simple have been many- Zeitgeist being one of the best that comes into mind.

The Big Short tries to keep it simple- it takes some of the best actors in the industry; it has a bunch of people who you can relate to – chefs, reality stars, music artists- explain the meaning of the terms that are used by the banks that a normal Tom, Dick, Harry won’t have any idea about; and it juxtaposes the images of what all had happened a few years back with the pace of the movie in neatly spaced timelines; and pays an impressive attention to detail. It does not match the precession of Micheal Lewis’s ‘The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine’, the book that it has been adapted from, but then Lewis’s book is not for your regular reader with the number of financial terms that are thrown in the mix- but somehow the movie manages to keep it all together and explains everything without indulging in anything too fancy.

It has Ryan Gosling being Ryan Gosling- at his charismatic best handling the narrative of the whole movie, Christian Bale taking on a challenging role as an eccentric numbers genius, Steve Carrel impressing again after his brilliant portrayal of John du Pont in Foxcatcher with another serious role, Brad Pitt doing what he does best- giving zero fucks in one scene and a million in the other. And the strength of The Big Short lies in not focusing on a single character but the storyline, the characters play their way out in each of the scenes.

The movie has just the right blend of comedy infused with classy subtlety, style- it wouldn’t be a wall street movie without it, elements of humanity- showcasing people losing their homes, and a comment on the system as a whole- well, money brings corruption and the lessons of the past are forgotten pretty shortly. It is not a movie that you cannot miss, but should definitely give it a watch if you have a little time to spare in your hands just because the actors in the movie are plain brilliant! Steve Carrel’s performance is probably the best of the bunch, and that is saying a lot when you look at the starcast, and Bale- true to his character- stays out of the limelight.

Spotlight – movie review



Some movies stay with you long after they have ended. And a few do it with such panache. Spotlight picks up a delicate story, and lays out the events that happened with finesse, leaving you wondering where you were when the grave misdoings happened. The movie is based on the true story of how The Boston Globe uncovered the massive scandal of child molestation and cover-up within the local Catholic Archdiocese. We have all read about this story, we have all seen Priests made fun of in comedy shows and jokes written about the molestation of little boys, this movie makes you feel the pain a child must have gone through when the violation occurred, and so much more.


“What do you do when the God asks you to do something?”, implores one of the church victims at one point. And that is when you try to comprehend the gravity of the whole situation. These were God’s men we are talking about here; these are spiritual leaders. The children they broke either went into depression, alcoholism, drugs or took their own lives. And the movie does not try to sugarcoat it, and it does not try to amplify the whole situation- it presents the way it is and leaves it to the audience to comprehend.


The people in the movie are brilliant, and you could expect nothing less of the cast of Micheal Keaton- who has carried on his amazing work after Birdman, Mark Ruffalo- thick accent, wonderful as ever, the beautiful Rachel McAdams, Liev ‘Sabertooth’ Schrieber and John ‘Madmen’ Slattery. I knew nothing about the movie before I started watching it- started it partly because of the cast, and was blown away. It tells us the importance of investigative journalism- something that is a dying breed nowadays, and the impact that it can have on the whole world. The movie does not turn the journalists into heroes, it presents them as who they are, lets them do their job, with a realism that grips the audience. It tenderly lays down tiny insights into the lives of the journalists, as well as the people who had been violated- twice- one by the priests and second by the system that did nothing to punish who wronged them.


Do watch! 10/10.

The summer breeze




As I stood staring at the pale moonlight,

The street spoke to me,

The sound that I heard was your soft voice,

And I wondered where you would be.


The gentle breeze,

It blew ever so peacefully,

There was a sense of calm around it,

And it reminded me of you.


There were two small pieces of paper,

Torn apart from a notebook where they must have lay,

Sewn together.

The wind blew them in circles,

Each rotating around itself,

And trying to revolve to catch the other.

They would meet a second,

And separate out the next.


With the wind, their charade died,

Apart, defeated, they lay spewn aside.

These papers, they flashed memories of fear,

The times when I realized our end was near.


The church at the corner rang its bells,

Another hour must have passed in its wake.

The chiming reminded me of the time that past,

The sunshines, the sunsets, and the life it was.

The car on the corner, it spoke of you,

The one long trip that we never took.

The snow flakes, they carried your mark,

How I wished I had more in my cask.

The silence around, it bellowed your name,

Taking me to our journeys and flashing at me, your face.


But the gentle breeze, it blew again,

Whispered to me softly, called out my name.

I could do nothing but slyly smile,

For you were the warm summer breeze in my life.




P.S: The timeline for this is winter. The warm summer breeze is the feeling of warmth amidst all the cold.


Wind Chimes

wind chimes

The wind chimes tinkled and the soft acoustics of it reminded him of the warm summer breeze. He could close his eyes and be carried to the life it was. Romanticizing a little more always threatened to take him to what it could have been, but shutting it out had been his defense mechanism all along. He fidgeted with the idea of pulling out that box of smokes that was lying hidden for the past six months now, but he was stronger than this, wasn’t he?

The world has always been full of people who could take his breath away, and trying to forget the one who reminded him to breathe was never going to be so easy. She was the melody of his songs and the rightness of all his wrongs. It was her for whom his poems rhymed, and she was the muse who made his stories come to life. More than anything he couldn’t get her smile out of his head, the sound of her contagious laughter, the tiny dimple that etched itself on her pretty face every time she flashed it by. He had decided to never fall in love again, but she got it out of him without ever having to ask. And never could he say that even though it broke his heart, he hadn’t been, and still was, just glad that she happened.

Someone had told him when he was a boy to be the person he needed when he was younger. He had a tough childhood, a difficult adolescence and the person that evolved had a mask on at all times, had feelings locked at a safe heaven at all costs. Little did he know that the mask would someday become his face and the key to the locker would be a fantasy that he could amuse himself with on some lazy Sunday afternoons. You don’t need to be submerged under water to get the feel that you are drowning, and he had been for a long time till she came along. She reminded him of the beautiful oceans, calm and peaceful even with her million whirlpools, and she came on to him in the wildest of ways- and just as he was close enough to touch her, she would turn back again. And he saw in her a story waiting to be read, to be understood. To be embraced; and he knew that he loved her when she pointed to the sky and where all he could see were dense clouds,  with her at hand, he finally could look beyond at the Sun.

He should have told her how he actually felt. How he was different when he was with her. How the meaning of his life changed when she was around. How her child-like laughter meant the world to him and how she could glide though the clouds and the rains would shower upon him. How he could never give a label what his heart said because he thought that the most beautiful chapters in his life won’t have a title till much later. How he had been too afraid of love, too afraid that he would like it too much.

As he lay contemplating what could have been, he wondered if it were all worth it? To break into a thousand pieces and then picking them up together, knowing that you are bound to miss some and you could never be the same again.
For her? A thousand times over.