She didn’t like dirt. 

She was never taught to embrace it either.

Forget liking it. 

But the time had come. 

Time for her to fly out of the nest. 

Time for her to step into the world of pigs. 

But, how could she be a survivor in this world if she didn’t learn what living with dirt was like? 

Being daddy’s little girl was not the solution. 

So she decided to let go, let go of the safety suit that came with a surname. 

She decided to step into the world of pigs. 

Walk into the world of pigs, like they did. 

And made up her mind that she would let go of her fear of loose ends instilled deep in her conscious since childhood. 

The time passed. 

She learnt to embrace the pigs. 

Some walked in. Some walked out. 

A few wanted. A few unwanted. 

But they were all a mere result of the choices she made. 

Sometimes rational. Sometimes irrational. 

But certainly maintaining the balance of ground beneath her feet as she walked forward covered in the dirt. 

She continued walking till it was time for her to step away from it. 

Wash it. 

But only if the dirt of life could be washed away as easily as the mud from the gardening hour in kitchen garden with mom on every sunday morning. 

And that’s when she knew and understoodwhy her father always told her this since she was a child, “Sweetheart, dirt will only be appealing for sometime.” 

Wise. Weak. Wreck.

The night was dark

The breeze was just about right

There she was


There was he.


Time had passed

To say a few years

A lot had changed,

But in their lives.

Maybe not so much between them.


Today when she looked at him

As she walked upto him

To give that one hug

And then walk beside him, behind him,

She knew

She cared for him.

But did he care for her?

The question lingered as they walked.

But was it the body or the heart that wanted something more?


What was that something more?

A touch?

A caress?

Or just to be held by him for a few seconds more?



the rules dictated a different story.

The night was to have

Minimal Hugs.

Minimal Eye Contact.

Minimal Smiles.

Minimal Touch.


Amongst those rules what was the heart to do?

That too when you have a heart as untameable as her hair.

The wildness in her wanted to narrate a different story.

But here she was,

Pouring her heart out with an innocence of a child.

For now she knew

Maybe she had a lending ear


Maybe she did not, after all.

But among many,

he should be the one to really know

For what is truly inside.

The Secrets.

The Horrors.

The Loss.

The Gains.

The Fears.



As she poured her heart and soul to him,

A thought struck her mind:

If she is not who she was

Is he what he was?

Then began the questions.

And their standard answers.

But by now she was wise.

So was he.

She knew a human mind can make lie play truth.

But a human reflex hardly can.


Did her job teach her that?

Or did life?

That’s a debate she pushed aside

For another time.


Here, now, they were.

With no one else in their lives.


The moment was here.

The glasses of two oceans in front of them,

While they

Could hardly control at least one ocean

on table that night.


While the breeze passed through her hair.

As he put a strand behind her ear.

There for a moment

everything came to a standstill.

There was no polaroid.

No phone.


No eyes.

But just the scalp of her head and his touch.


But here she was

Wiser after years.

Then again there

he was….

Longingness didn’t  kick in

But will did.

Has anyone ever won from will?

So how could she?

She bounced forward

As leaning was not the option in the moment.

And landed a peck on

his smoke infused lips.


By now it was clear,

the heart wanted him to know

Whether he cared or not cared

6 years and men and women later,

the person sitting

on her side is all that



The night had to move forward.

As time has never been a slave

So what was tonight?

But at least time brought them

Together tonight.


Only to seperate them at the court

Where he had to leave.

So did she.

But the time left them with

The humming of their soul.

The crisp touch of each other.

The confusion yet the delight of vanilla, topped with blueberry in the mouth.


A new morning.

A new day.

She was in a crowd.

He was in a crowd.

They met again but this time in a crowd.


As the after taste from the previous night still lingered,

It required a lot to be put at stake tonight.

The safe choice was to not meet each others eyes.


Can one ever really avoid familiarity?

Can one ever really escape the fragrance of self?

As the night progressed

The intoxication did too.

The eyes stayed far.

But they did speak too.

Maybe it was the music.

Maybe it was the silence.

Maybe it was just the presence that made them talk once again.


The night came to an end.

And the other day began.

They met again.

On her way to him.

Was she weak?

Was he weak?


Were they both weak?

She wondered.


This is where I draw your attention to:

The rules dictated a different story.

They didn’t require them to take time.

They didn’t require them to make time either.

But here they both were,

Selfishness didn’t matter.

Neither did longingness.

Accommodating each other in their lives today.

Only one thing to wonder

Was the love they once felt years ago weaker?


Is the love that they feel today a weaker one?

Or is it a pre – meditated game life was playing with them?



In the flow.

Another morning welcomed itself.

She was there.

He was there.

They were there.

Once again, they did welcome the morning together.


As you must have already guessed –

That was not the only morning they welcomed together.

But was the one they did after a really long time.

But was this morning going to have a follow up?

It did.

And it followed with another morning.


But every morning,

She had only one need:

The smoke stinking lips of hers

Be the black coffee in his cup.


By this morning

There was no strength

There was no weakness

There was the balance or the quiet.

The one that nature experiences every time

Before the storm hits it with a tragedy.


Tragedy was not too far here either.

This dance of balance was only


She knew.

He knew.

But did they know?


Life for both of them had to once

again catch it’s rhythm.

Which only meant one thing


She knew.

Did he?

But that is a mystery

Maybe both their minds will have an answer to it.

Maybe she will know how to be with it.

Maybe he will know how to be with it too.

Maybe because now it was not just the weak & wreck having a foreplay.


It was now the time for



Unless you have been wild, how will you know what sober feels like? 
Unless you have seen bad, how will you know what good feels like? 
Unless you have experienced pretencious, how will you know what genuine feels like? 
Unless you have tried anything, how will you know what it really feels like? 


I am sitting at a cafe, on the singles table with my laptop and few papers and a pen. Besides my laptop is my freshly brewed coffee sitting in its cup. Brewed to perfection to provide a state of bliss. Meanwhile, it is raining kids at the cafe. One after another a mother is walking inside the cafe with her child. You can see the sign of her marriage on her ring finger. The proof of her consummating the marriage with her partner walking right beside her. And the dullness of it on a few faces.

Seeing all this my mind could not help but think about marriage – it’s complications, evolution, varieties and etc. All this pondering leads me to think about various horrible moments of a marriage witnessed by me as I aged. Among all these memories lies one specific memory which had left me scarred. Until now.

This was the incident where I had witnessed a married woman with no self-control trying really hard to woo another man whose sincerity perhaps belongs to another woman.

For the simplification of references let’s call this man Hugo, his woman Liz, and this married woman Victoria.

Now we all have seen polygamy to extramarital affairs to same-sex marriages but this managed to scar me simply because Victoria was busy trying so hard while Liz was present besides Hugo. And that too with the flirting in a very bad taste. (Certainly a hard attempt at footsie and inappropriate distance of the face at a social gathering is capable of disgusting an asexual too.)

Nonetheless this scarring incident had managed to put some anger in my heart. Because my share of witnessing so many bad marriages and their output on this earth was literally over. And so was my share of, ‘ALL MEN ARE BASTARDS’ was over. Because in a pond of women where majority claims to be faithful once they are in a bond like marriage, there are still some stinky fishes who really have their shit messed up. All in all my share of witnessing all this over few drinks and smokes was done in life. I was in no state to take it anymore.

But, today when I sit and think of that night, I can’t help but laugh. Because today I was feeling sorry for Victoria and Hugo both. So sorry that my laughter is unstoppable.

For starters I can’t help myself but think about Victoria. Apart from femininity I wonder how much self loathing and low self-control would have gone here in the making of this woman. So much so that she was ready to screw up herself and this man and everything around. And she was doing it like it was nobody’s business. But it was. It was Liz’s. But, Victoria doesn’t care. Perhaps Victoria was pushed into a marriage or did it for financial stability or just did it or she just didn’t understand the value of loyalty or she was in an open marriage but poor woman lacked class.

Overall, such a sorry state to be in. To have someone legally but not really have them. Hence, succumb to buffoonery and behave inappropriately at her own house in front of her own guests. Poor woman had to come down to beg for another man’s attention. What horror. Certainly one doesn’t realise it till one comes out of that state of unfulfilled heart.

On the other hand I can’t help but wonder was Hugo even realising what was happening with him? Or the emotion of being wanted by 2 women had blinded him. Certainly all the buffoonery by Victoria must have been leaving him awkward, but I could not really interpret if he was enjoying this , or stuck in this, or just didn’t realise it. Whatever the case maybe, my mind wonders which dark journey is Hugo coming from. To have either not realised this or enjoy this or be stuck in this. Certainly a sign of non stability and forgotten boundaries. Either a result of a scar nonetheless. Wonder what that scar is?

Such a sorry state for him to be in. To be belonging to one while being chased by another woman belonging to someone else. Thrilling yet monotonous. And grey enough to bleed red and far from the state of black and white.

Did he do something about it or not?

Did Liz ever speak to him about it?

Did Liz and Hugo remain or just vanished in their silent worlds?

The Man

Another piece written on the same trip.

The Man

Oh you said,

you were not just a man

but a lover.

I’m afraid darling,

I just saw a man with trouble.

Who just needed

a simple distraction.

But, here we are.

Oh you said,

you were a man with heart.

I’m afraid darling,

I just saw a man

with worldly troubles.

Whom troubles of my heart

didn’t trouble.

But, here we are.


I recently went on a road trip in India. This little piece was written on that trip, hope you enjoy it. More about the trip on the travel blog – themoustachetraveler.wordpress.com


Because life is really unpredictable.

Maps are more directionless than ever.

But we are so simple,

still life is so unpredictable.

There was happiness but

the sorrow lasted.

When happiness knocked

at the door.

It stole all the glances.

But, my heart caved.

Because life is really unpredictable.

Oh! Poor heart why are

you so troubled.

I questioned.

Spring is too good to be true.

I have never seen it before,

heart answered!

Because life is really unpredictable.

Maps are more directionless than ever.

But we are so simple.

Still life is so unpredictable.

A night of jazz

She walked into the bar caring less about what she is wearing, who she bumps into because she was with him. He was her confidence, proud, love, lust, turning out to be a friend. She felt inseparable from him. The music had reached her ears, she was swaying with it. But, as she looked around, she found no empty table but just a bar stool in the corner which was just not for her. Before she could say anything, she saw him exchanging notes with the waiter perhaps for a table around. He turned around looked at her, she gave him a smile, the best she could. He signalled her to follow him, like a lost puppy she followed the path he was leading only to find herself at the bar stool which was not for her. Thoughts started weaving in her mind but before they could take a shape there she was standing next to the stool, now occupied by some man who was surrounded by a bunch of women. Ah! So, it’s not mine and I am not sitting on it. Till she could recover from this happiness she found herself in situation of societal exchange of greeting because, ‘I have seen him somewhere before’ crossed her mind and then it occurred to her mind that she remotely knows this man through her man.

After a long wait they were at this table where she found her man not hers anymore or rather comfortable, at least she assumed so. But, it was all taken over as the minutes passed and her table was moved right in front of the band that was playing tonight. Suddenly, the man who she thinks to be her man didn’t matter neither did the drink in her hand. All that mattered was the intensity that she had developed with what was entering her mind through her ears by these bunch of guys pulling strings and pressing keys. There was so much heat in the music that night, you could see it on the glass of the drink she was having. The dew ran down the neck in a spiral pattern making every turn on every beat that made her curl her toes. She could not take this heat, she could only be seen trying to catch her breath.


As the music stopped, she curled inside in shyness feeling exposed to the rest of the world. And there again she put a different her to sleep within her, again.


She rocked him so hard in her lap, while everyone else wondered if he was live or dead in her lap.

Perhaps she was the only one who thought she was sending him away from this materialistic world into a world of happiness and compassion. A world of dreams. A world of her dreams.