That little bothering voice in your mind
Arising from your conscience
Often we want it to die
To achieve the balance
Between work and life
Something we all strive for
But you will never be at peace with yourself
This little voice will make sure
That you stay divided
Between life and duty
Forgetting yourself in the process
And your family
And what can be worse than a life
Spent to silence this voice
Yet not being able to
Eliminate the misery.


The lost art of letter writing


Long gone are the days when we had a little excitement, a little nervousness unfolding the letters arriving from friends, parents, relatives, lovers and sometimes even strangers. Those scribbles meant so much. They could speak of our emotions such as love, concern, longing and what not.

I still have the letters I received from my friend almost 5 years ago. They mean a lot to me. They are like written evidences of the long lasting friendship we have had. She usually would inform me about her daily ongoings and ask me to share my own stories. Some of the letters would have just general discussions, yet others had drama. She once wrote a really big letter to me explaining how she did not realize that the dog she took in as a pet was actually a bitch and how she had to rename her from ‘Sherlock’ to ‘Pepper’. That was one hell of a letter. It can still make me laugh even in my lowest moments.

Letters were a very significant mode of communication in the past. The advent of technology brought a lot of change in the way we communicate. Letter writing got replaced initially by e-mails and then as we began to lose more patience and got more occupied in our busy lives, text messaging (SMS) and WhatsApp took over. In fact we have become so lazy that we try to shorten the conversations by literally killing every rule of the language.

This reminds of a message I received two days ago from a friend. She is supposed to fly in to my hometown soon and I keep on forgetting the date. The message said “Dng the chckn”. Even my autocorrect is converting it into checkin, exactly the way I thought the message conveyed its meaning. I got all worried thinking that maybe she was supposed to arrive today. Considering how much I hate talking to someone over the phone, it took me another one hour to eliminate my fear, so I called her up and asked what she really wanted to write. She told me she was going to make chicken for the first time and she was in so much hurry that she wrote “Dng the chckn”. That literally fucks up all the grammar and spelling rules. All I said to her was, “Don’t ever do this to me”.

It is okay to be precise if you really are bad at writing long sentences, but at least be grammatically correct. Abbreviating and shortening every other word is like massacring the soul of the language, whichever language you write in.

Coming back to this lost form of writing, letters have even been popular as a discreet mode of communication. I would like to quote an example of my grandfather here. Nobody in our family knows Urdu other than him. So he would write letters in the language to his friends and some of us who were too curious always kept wondering what really they discussed about that had to be so discreet.

Now, there is yet another role letters have played which is in the form of love letters. I am sure they are still in use, the only difference being that kids these days put sparkling heart and star stickers onto them to confess what for them is love. I remember watching some movies where a soldier would write to her darling only to receive words of love and affection in return. Being a sort of poet myself, I have always felt excited thinking about how poets would express their feelings for their beloved. It just reminds me of a quote I saw in the morning that said, “If a poet loves you, you will never die.” I guess because they will keep you alive in the words they knit out of love. Alright, I guess I am too much of a romantic.

The thrill of writing a letter or receiving one remains unparalleled. I don’t want to make the article morose by discussing about the letters that carry uneventful news sometimes.

Letters are written expressions, specially for those of us who fail at speaking their heart out. And for yet others, who cannot really put even one sentence on paper, even if they are able to write, “Keep smiling”, doesn’t it mean a lot? I guess it does.

The ghost attack

I will tell you many stories of near and far
since there are many places I have traveled
sometimes exploring dark sides
and finding mysteries to unravel.
Had two partners to share room with me
while I was away from family
not knowing what the future had
in store for me.
I had been the one fearful of the mysteries of night
only when I grew up did the fears went away
but only to actually see it from my eyes
I really cannot forget that day.
It was pitch dark, middle of the night
when one of them started screaming
and the other was afraid and started crying.
She had told me stories of her possession
when a ghost would attack their her body
leading to cession.
She told me she didn’t have
any memory of the attacks
and should it happen in front of me
I shouldn’t go all aghast
that all I need to do is hurry
clutch her tight without worry
so the ghost would leave
and the possession will be brief.
So I did as I was told
without any fear or worry
asking the other friend to join me
help me, give me company.
To ward off the ghost
was not as easy as it seemed
she was not even awake
screaming while she was still asleep.
She clutched me tight
and wasn’t ready to withdraw
it was probably the ghost
I am really still not sure even after I saw
her eyes go wide awake
almost a little scary
and she screamed at the top of her voice
with so much fury
and then she fainted and dropped to the ground
shivering with an intensity profound.
By the time the screaming and shouting happened
on the scene people had gathered
to see what happened this time
the other roommate was worried about me rather
because I almost froze to death watching all this
and had traveled to a different world the sort of an abyss.
She woke up only the next day
and she was no longer possessed
and whenever I still think about it
it makes me depressed.

Bucket list

With three months to go for new year
our resolutions are waiting
to be penned down
and we are hell bent on sticking to them, hoping
that something would change this year
that this one won’t be the same
but so many years have passed
every time it is the same game
that we play with our wishes
marking them on a bucket list
and then days, weeks and years pass by
we fail at even
attempting to try
grab this moment
this moment is all you need
to breathe life
into the little and big dreams
do not cheat yourself into waiting
life is too short to stick to hope
put on your shoes, start running
do all you can with whatever little is left
trying and failing is still better
than a life of regret!

What they want me to be

It takes on your nerves
every time you fight to keep your sanity
living up to expectations
trying hard to put up with responsibility
they have loved us way too much
and to them we own
but often we fail them
and then it is hard to feel like home
it is difficult to walk a mile
in the shoes we do not really fit into
and it freaks me out
every single time I fail to get through
I have never really been
what they want me to be
and the fucked head I am
I really don’t think I will ever find the right key
and I will probably always suck at
this thing called responsibility.

Gobbled: A Horror Comic, Process

About a year ago I did a four-page horror comic called Gobbled for an anthology that vanished into thin air. I finally decided to post the whole comic at my comics blog, but if you stick around here I’ll show you how I put it together. It’s a pretty simple process, nothing tricky.4-page story about Abraham Plotz, a kid who hunts vampiresStep One: Pencils. I sketch out my ideas in sketchbooks or computer paper, scan them in and organize them into a page layout. My pencils are usually a little looser, and not this polished, but I wanted to get the shadows right and the pencils stage was a good place to practice.

4-page story about Abraham Plotz, a kid who hunts vampiresStep Two: Inks. The figures and backgrounds were inked in MangaStudio. I love the inking brushes in that program, but I can’t stand the text tools. So this was actually lettered in Adobe Illustrator. You can see I took out…

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Perfections Imperfections!

Caught between the never ending struggle
to balance the perfect and imperfect
drenched in comparisons
fixing the wrecked
self that is too drowned in gloom
to accept ourselves
we give no room
not allowing dreams to fly carefree
always striving to be a success
forgetting to enjoy, basking in worry
not noticing the little beautiful things
that happen to pass by
and then complain about
a life so wry
pause a little
fail at a big dream and lose
only then you can enjoy the little that comes along
instead of slipping away into blues.



If we were to speak the truth
instead of lying
could we be more okay
would we still not be crying?
If it was our heart
we poured out
would it clear the life’s mirror
or would it lead to more doubt?
If we looked for all answers
to end our quest
would it end the gloom
and lead to zest?
Or would it still be the same
a little bit of happiness
a little of misery
silence is a good way to keep from breaking
but only to a certain degree.

180 posts later

After spamming almost all social media
with links to my blog
180 posts later
still trying not to fall.
I feel a little exhausted now and then
and it is sometimes a trouble
to write down my thoughts with a pen
and eventually I end up blabbering on paper.
Wondering if this is good enough
to be considered
for at least one like
because that is sometimes enough to make my day
further motivating me to write.
I struggle with my thoughts
almost every moment
will I be able to achieve all that I dream
but in all this is the enjoyment
of penning down whatever comes to mind
gives me a certain freedom
when my perplexed thoughts unwind.
180 posts later
I won’t say I see myself where I wanted to be today
but I love doing it so much
that I won’t give up on it anyway.


For those of us who get a job
by the end of college
all our important documents don’t matter to us
We think we will do with knowledge.

And when we realize we do not fit into the job
we frantically search for papers
that would prove we are educated
that this new job we deserve.

So when I started looking for papers
almost all of them were found
except for one that mattered most
whose importance was profound.

The one résumé I had updated
lying somewhere on my system
thankfully they allow automatic search
otherwise to find it would have been one mission.

But apart from the fact that it was found
one thing I still wonder
How my resume went
into a junk named folder.

I always feel there’s something strange
going on in life
even my system has knowledge of
my miserable plight.