I once had a dream that I met my idols

The green light was on their faces


Clearer as daylight, I saw them


Kafka stranded aloof along with his father and the giant vermin on the shore

I felt Kafkaesque surrounding us all


Far away saw Hemingway rowing the boat calling me an old man who is still unsure


Dostoevsky lined up to get shot, smilingly told me, you’re an honest thief one day you will get caught

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Who am I?

I am pilgrim on a pilgrimage
No acts define me as sage
I have come to meet these shadows
Long forgotten their presence
I have grown older
I have aged
But still I have these questions, which won’t leave me, they don’t dissuade

I am the marathon man
As I am running
Endlessly, seamlessly
In quest of answers
I have been to moon and back
Even met the pillars and the founders
But still the quest remains
But still the thirst sustains

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Why are you so LOST?

An apposite question asked by herds of people, everyday. He feels the question, somewhat burdened by it. The act which follows this question has become rudimentary to him, something like his 2nd nature. He smiles, the smile which doesn’t reach to his eyes, yes that smile, the one which conveys the necessary, the obligatory, the “acceptable answer”.

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5 Years of Slumber!

As he sits here putting salt on cucumber, thinking down the retrospection road, might be, he’s in an unaware slumber… Need a professional plumber to fix this 5-year-old leak, time is a burglar and values in corporate jungle is cheap

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