Saturday, October 29, 2016


Hinduism is very simple.

None of the Gods are perfect. None of the 'asuras' are evil. Each one is flawed.
There is Dharma. And Dharma needs to be followed. If you do not follow Dharma, you perish. 

Ravana, the greatest of all sages, pays the price for abducting and desiring Sita. Rama prays the price for doubting her chastity and abandoning her.

Kauravas fall because of their greed. For desiring what was not theirs rightfully. Panadavas fall for they too stray away from Dharma, in the heat of the battle.
Even the puppeteer Sri Krishna suffers at the hands of Gandhari, for her faith in her dharma was unshaken.

Siva falls prey to lust and attachments ( neglecting the dharma of being a yogi). Mahakali succumbs to anger and destroys all She holds dear.

Take the storiy of any asura in Hindu mythology. It follows a common theme of a great man who performs severe austerities to get what he wants. Its only that that the he demands what is not his.

Simple as it may seem, this forms the crux of Hinduism.
In current times, when religion has become synonymous with hatred, caste and politics .. this needs to be understood even more.

- Akshay


Let's have sex tonight. We'll leave the flickering bulb on. Let the light seep into the crevices of your wrinkles. Highlight the stray gray hair. Play havoc on your chapped lips.

You can slip inside my skin. Snuggle. Your ribs against mine. 
Touch me. Not rub, not probe, not scratch, not grope. Touch me. Feel the thumping that is my madness.

Let loose my sanity. Tear off the robes of civility. The threadbare strips of morality.
Throttle me. Let my sins dance their macabre dance before my eyes.
Hold me down. Reign in my monsters. Let them gasp as you assault them.

Move in rhythm with the drums inside my head. Make love to the incessant shrieking. Bite down hard enough to make the scars disappear. Again. Over and over again. Until we are spent.
Or worse, quiet.

Let's have sex tonight.

- Akshay

The Art Of Eating Alone.

Of all the skills one must acquire over the years, the art of eating alone is an absolute necessity.

A book or magazine I would suggest. Although, one must avoid the phone. The ever devious phone ( with its tentacles embedded in every sphere of life) hardly leaves one 'alone'. One must first settle down comfortably. In a seat one likes. Not hide in a dimly lit cove, which would suggest that one is ashamed of eating alone. Except those wonderful wonderful introverted souls. What blessing it is indeed!

Then one may open a book, flip through a magazine or write. One may gaze into the surroundings ( short of looking desperate and creepy) too.
Concentrate on the food. Chew it, churn it, cherish it.
Fiddle with a pair of earphones and plug them in. Let music do the rest.
Your tongue will taste, your ears will hear, your eyes shall feast. And all will be in harmony.

You might also chance upon the fact that one is forever alone. And what a delighful pleasure that would be.
Almost an icing on the cake. Unless, you have a cake on the menu. I'd always suggest the latter.

Cakes taste best when tasted alone.


You can't

You Can't 

You can't get over depression. It won't let you.
Depression is the 4AM restlessness, the twists and turns. The tossing of the pillow. The whirring of the fan. The cupping of the eyes. The buzzing of the headache.

It's the nauseating feeling early in the morning. The headache when you pour water, the dreariness on the face in the mirror. The slowness of the fingers buttoning the shirt. And the heaviness of footsteps out of the door.

It's the thought lurking at the back of the mind. The stray comment that stings. The scenes that keep repeating. The work that piles up. The food that tastes like sand. The lonely corner that feels like home.

Its the dread of going home. The hollow room, the lumpy bed, the sight of clothes scattered, the tears you know are coming.

Its the eagerness for the sun to set. When darkness creeps in, mates with you and makes the thumping stop. The staring doesn't appears aimless. The phone can be switched off. Work can be slid to a far corner. And the cycle can be started off afresh next morning.

You can't get over depression. It won't let you.

- Akshay

gali ke muhane

गली के मुहाने पर 
एक बल्ब लटका करता था 
पिद्दी था, प्यादा था 
जंग लड़ने पर आमादा था 

धागे से तार पर
झूलता था मदमस्त
झिलमिलाता था, भुनभुनाता था
रात भर गश्त लगाता था

तस्कर था रोशनी का
सुराख की सुरंग से आर पार करता था
रसिक था परछाईयो का
कठपुतलियां बना व्यापार करता था

महफ़िल जमाता था झींगुरो संग
रूठता तो लुप्प हो जाता था
कभी यूँ ही खिलखिला उठता भोर सवेरे
कभी घुप्प अँधेरे में चुप हो जाता था

गली के मुहाने पर
एक बल्ब लटका करता था

- अक्षय

On a night

On a night like this
We cuddled
Eons ago
Or maybe it was yesterday
Hands entwined 
Shirts crumpled
Palms sweaty
Breathing rugged
It smelled of Old Spice
And Listerine
Horns beeped faraway
The bulb flickered
You snored
Blissfully oblivious
There was no movement
No adjusting
No fidgeting
We fell in place
Like the world around us

On a night like this
We cuddled

- Akshay