The Windows

are open.

You know


who wants

to die.

Every evening

the birds return.

Flying over the buildings

shaded in mist,

they come in through the light

higher up in the clouds.

Every evening they come.

Every evening

they give back to you.


The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).


Again the Grey World

hangs from my mind

this morning

like a bird’s nest

I think of vines

this wooded place

I would go to

at Ismail Yusuf college

when I first moved

here to Andheri

I would go there

and read poetry

sitting on a rock

I would devour books

by James Wright

and Dylan Thomas

and Robert Creeley

while the white sky

slowed down to listen

after a while it cried

and the rain that fell

made the green world

burst into colour

the trees stood silent

like old and wise creatures

their black trunks wet

the universe was singing

I could hear it

in every spore

every sound

every breath I took

and how my heart exploded

in wonder

when this curious mongoose

came around

to look.

I Am A Pyramid

of flesh

with a head

and a white t-shirt

sitting cross-legged

on my bed

writing this

my small yellow room

is calm

with the AC on

my two grey cupboards

I look at

then my teapoy with my toiletries

and water

and next to me is this

old yellow chair

from my childhood

where my thoughts

begin to wander

leisurely like air…

and when

I come back

here again

from there

I find

the white screen

of the computer

is slowly

turning into sky

beckoning me to fly

so goodbye.


The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).