The ink leaves a blotch;
a slash a scar.
Both ask for a firm grip,
but only the nib will obey thy heart.

The pen flows like a dancing swan,
and the sword binds darkest of secreds.
But words are heavier than wounds, and thus,
the pen is mightier than the sword, they said.


Introversion 1.0

Hiding away all his pain,
Emotions and feelings,
Seeking solitude
And tranquility’s blessings.

A web so intense and vast,
His thoughts nourish
In the eternal crevasse.
He isn’t shy, gay or dull,
Just different and perhaps
Better than y’all.

He can be a friend,
You may never meet.
He can be a partner,
So damn sweet!
He just won’t pull out a chair,
Nor offer you a seat.
But all that’s fair,
He isn’t about that creed.

This world is familiar to him,
Yet so strange.
His mind is his home,
And that’ll never change.

Never take for granted,
Don’t him you ever hurt,
Little does the world understand
The dilemma of an introvert.

Confessions of a Psychopath (Part 1)

Every night
Before he went to sleep
He wished, that he wouldn’t wake up,
The next day,
The problem, he realised,
Was that he got too attached,
He was too nice to everyone,
And everyone took him for granted.

He cared for them,
And he trusted them,
They used him when they needed him,
And when their need was over,
They cast him out…like a leper,
Without a single thought,
that day, he realised,
that everything he believed in was complete blasphemy.

Frustration simmered inside him,
All of that pent-up rage and anger boiled up in him,
Slowly, patiently,
Chewing on him from inside,
Like a tumour of the brain,
Until one day, he couldn’t take it any more,
And he opened up, and let loose.

Years of anger and frustration
Leading to this moment,
All his rage rushed out,
Like an over-flowing vessel,
And without a thought for anyone,
He screamed, and tore at his hair,
He couldn’t take it any more,
He had to make things right.

The next day,
He set out with only one thing on his mind
Devoid of all remorse and empathy,
A macabre smile on his face,
A new manipulative personality
And a knife hidden in his overcoat,
Life seemed so much better, now that he knew what he had to do.

Why should he apologise for the person he was? No one ever apologised for making him that way.

Click on the part you want to read next:
Confessions of a Psychopath (Part 2)
Confessions of a Psychopath (Part 3)
Confessions of a Psychopath (Part 4)


“Alrighty then. The barkeeper and the three other witnesses confirm your side of the story. There isn’t a whole lot of evidence to support the contrary, and the Prosecutor’s story is erratic and will not be able to answer some key questions that the jury will have. I have to admit, your account of events is hard-hitting and meticulously planned. It’s almost as if you are telling the truth!” Sir Justice Hawthorn laughed nervously. “All you have to do is plead not guilty to the charges, and, worst case scenario is that we’ll have a hung jury.”

He sighed and looked up at the discoloured ceiling of his small prison cell. A couple more months, and after the trial, he’d be able to walk out of here as a free man again. He looked out from the small, barred window to the world outside. Or would he? He wondered.

Some things are more important than life.

“All rise.” said the usher. Once the jury had settled, the judge invited the associate to read out the charges. “You have been charged on two accounts. One, murder, and the second, for obstruction of justice and tampering of evidence. How do you plead?” he said with a stone-faced look, beckoning towards the defendant.

He looked around, his eyes settling on the man whose life depended on his answer.

“Guilty.” he said, in a barely audible whisper.

The Empire

There once was a man down the road
They called him strange and he lived all alone
His frivolous nature and different thoughts
Made everyone afraid and distraught
They mocked him behind his back
Threw away his clothes and burnt his shack
The Empire had turned him down.

There once was a woman different from all
Her way of life and beauty was frowned upon
The Empire paid no heed to her,
She was branded a witch and her life was a blur
Wretched men laughed at her shame
Harried onlookers passed on the blame
The Empire had turned her down.

They met on the banks of the river under moonlight
Her tears mixed in the water with time
They together made a home to live
Outside the empire’s barren drift
They lived happily together and didn’t care
But one fine day, to the call of wind
They left together, to search for their own kin.

The Empire had turned them down.

Is Honesty the Best Policy?

Isn’t it funny how we’re always taught that honesty is the best policy, and yet we’ve literally managed to reach that point where it has become hard to survive even a day without lying. Maybe in this fast-moving world a trivial lie can’t do much. Or can it?

How many times has it happened that you lied, and the person on the other end caught you? Apparently I’m pretty good at lying and can get away with almost anything, if I want to. Aren’t we all like this? We tend to do something till we don’t have to face its repercussions. Anyway, how many times did a lie actually drop you in a problem? Hardly any one in ten lies backfires.

We all know lying is a bad thing, even a six year old knows that. Then why is it that we’ve to lie at all? The answer—I suppose—is pretty simple. We just want to save ourselves the time to explain a particular situation. Lying has—to some extent—become a substitute for ‘none of your freaking business’; not just a substitute but also a reflex.

When a salesman comes to your door and presents an item with ‘flat 60% off’, when an ad says that McDonald’s Aloo Tikki is for just Rs. 25 now, or when an agent says that ‘this policy is best for you and your family, sir’; isn’t honesty literally screwed there?

This world stands because people lie. Let’s face it, honesty doesn’t take you anywhere. Your boss won’t promote you on learning that you took leave to watch your favourite TV show, but he’ll certainly admire the trait that you really care for people and you’re an ideal husband. Become an honest freak today, and they won’t call you a mahatma but rather tag you as a moron who seeks attention.

The world has changed, the phrases from the past don’t dwell well in the present. One truth can make you a hundred times better person but one lie can make it a thousand times simpler.


“Dude, why do you look sad every time?”   he asked.
“Happiness, is a state of mind that has nothing to do with the external world”, he replied. Confused, his friend didn’t ask anything else.

He wished what he said was true.