Burnt into memories,
episodes scar the self.
Unseen to mortals,
eyes veil chaos.

In hope to collect sanity,
the external puts up a facade.
To avoid further sabotage ,
mouth puts up a smile,
to face the world intact.

The show is put up,
in the stage of being.
Audience are presented with the pretence,
oblivious of the conflicts in the core.

Illusions allure them to believe the sight,
but behind the veil is a desperate innocence,
behind the cloak lies a weak strength.

A strength wishing to be held up,
yet insufficient to carry the self,
hoping for the day
to tear its own mask,
bearing with it
the self at its truest sense.

September 1st

by Aarti Chandrashekar

September 1st was supposed to be the day;
The day when what they had would last half year.
Back then she made a mistake. She chose herself before them.
To this day she regrets it. What happened was because of her fear.
That fear that caused a rift. Isolating herself from everyone.
Anxiety, fear, confusion are a strange set. This set made her deviate from herself and her heart.
It’s has been months, the bond between them is revived. The emotions along with it.
Their stars may not align. The moon may not shine in her dark sky.
But she wishes to fix their bond to what it was six months ago on the September 1st.


Far stands a mighty peak,
the absolute purpose, shimmering and resolute.
Eyes fall upon a sight at its level,
witnessing the dense forest,
filled with the wild and unknown.
The untrodden and the completely exploited,
unfold in front of the eyes.
Gleaming with innocence, untouched by ill-works of world,
those child like eyes take up the journey towards the ultimate purpose.

Rocks, traps, and falls innumerable,
fights, broken chords umpteen,
all endured for the sight of the peak.
incalculable twists and turns unfurl,
eyes hunt for the known,
yet all seem bleak.

Paths changed, sight changed,
so did those eyes.
The peak came within reach,
the persuit paved its way to the mighty,
the shimmering and resolute purpose.
Yet a transformation occured,
a change that could not be undone.

The eyes which once gleamed
with innocence, purity and sanity,
was now stripped off of its high held virtue.
The jungle had tainted the eyes,
the wildness hunted down its sanity,
purity was tarnished in the persuit.

What remained was hollow,
remnants of the once complete.
Persuit of the peak was achieved,
but void eyes were born,
blind of their previous life.

I to me

Hey heart,

Why can adieus never be happy?
She remained mum.

Why do you rush fast when u know the inevitable?
:My blinded faith makes me leap.

Why do you break for the unfaithful?
  :Your insufficient care made me look for warmth from unimagined places.

Why do you throb in both thick and thin?
:To let you know no matter what, I’m there.

Why do you weep to the tunes of the world?
:The strings they pull is no jolly ride.

I question her again,
Why can adieus never be happy?
:Eyes saw confidant, but I saw a guest who robbed off some me at exit.

Through the clouds of fantasy

Swiftly moving along,
Hands held delicately,
they move across the ballroom,
oblivious of the encircling drama.

Eyes locked,
not a single moment away,
speak an unspoken language,
and thousand secrets unfold.

Effortlessly moments pass,
yet, slowing down for those eyes,
which seek for unuttered exchanges.

The pair of eyes gain conscious,
to realise it’s presence in clouds,
among those walls of fantasy,
which is seldom traversed.

Droplets of the disintegrated cloud,
drips down into the soul.
Drenching in its warmth,
an unforgettable episode created
a deep imprint on the mesmerized spirit.

A desperate wish emerges,
inside the mind of the mortal,
yearning eternity in the fantasy.
Eyes refrain from opening,
to face the reality of being.


An experience never felt,
yearning and always dreamt.
A magic not visible to nude eyes, will I ever cherish it?
It is no plain surrender,
but drenching in the feel it showers.

A stage never stepped upon,
wishing to be a part of.
A story unfolding on its own,
not in the hands of the artist.
It fuses as a part of me,
and is not a short time spectacle.

As the horizon sets,
thousand thoughts wander,
imagining the unimaginable.
Abstract thoughts spread through the palace of mind,
wondering what they are.


There is no true love,
than in your tunes which makes one fall.

There is no true pain,
than the strain of your chords which break the fragile heart.

There is no true joy,
than soaking in your soothing carress.

There is no true identity,
as in all entities I hear you.

There is no true remedy,
than drenching in your healing melody.

There is no true me,
as I immerse into your comfort.

There is no true language,
than the wordless magic you utter.

There is no better way to express passion,
than your immortal soul.


Moments slow down
And so does the voice.
Days of then are reminded
when contempt had its ways.

Why do they seem long gone ?
Those tiny little moments that arose, 
Should they have been cherished more?
Though within reach, they seem distant.

Visible at the other end,
They leave me with silence to speak.
Instances in place, like a perfect rhyme,
remain untouched.

Days go by wondering
when shall this too pass,
Like an unfinished song.


A young boy, probably of seven was engrossed into tying a rope to a stick. Such a trivial task, one may feel, yet at that instant, the world stopped for him.

He, lost in a menial task, unaware of his surroundings, eyes laid upon the new challenge at hand, cherished every single moment.

Looking at this as a hidden spectator, I questioned myself. When was it last that the world stopped at my pace – there seemed to be a blank space at that question.

In this fast paced world, I always had looked down to follow the trails, oblivious of my pace and tailing with the crowd, missing everything around, and thus remain forgotten.