Skip to content
It taxes exorbitantly my sléep
With unthought dark wild dreams
I think of greén pastures and blue seas
Ànd I am taken to a fiery hell
Whére not body but soul cripples
Like Angles, Saxons and Jutes
They dawn from nowhere
And I am invaded. Invaded
Ànd reduced to à helpless hostage
Ànd Pushed to àn exile
To a land foreign to my cognisance
Unfamiliarity grows more familiar
From the weariness of breathing
Emanates the unpleasing pàins
Pàinful pleasures make me drain
I wish I dream no more
I wish I scream no more
©jeyforyou
The noise of the moisture
Eyes contrived to bury alive
And remains of the pyre
Stuffed in a cookies jar
Too adamant to be washed ashore
Ís abandoned tó wreàk ripples
The staircase to the chambre noir
Crumbles with each foot on
Yet the feet do not fumble
Yet the mansion does not tumble
Parade of these heaps of flesh and bones
Marches forth braving the odds
©jeyforyou
The sorcerer I met that muddy night
While walking home through a tunnel
A decade old repressed desire surfaced
Oh, this presence afflicts the very beloved
For truth hurts more than it heàls
A swift power of invisibility was all I sought
In exchange did I give away
My mobile spontaneity, my life force
Ànd this walking shàdow slogged to extinction
©jeyforyou
Nature always gives signs
Eyes and reason tarry in learning
Or refuse to accept the phenomena
O little man! acceptance is learning
Your patriotism to your hubris
There you are: a tragically fàllen victim
Pull your sleeve up
Peel your skin off
See the spectacle of myriad veins at play
Go to the café down àt square
Order your favourite beverage
And feel life at every sip
You can ask them to change the music
O, you have your earbuds. Great.
Wear them up
Pop, jazz, rock, Sufi,EDM or whatever
Listen to your thing
Enjoying, right? Good, yeah.
©jeyforyou
Aaj ek budha baàp kehne pe majboor hai
Shikhshak Hona Sahi mein ek bhool hai
Fakhar se kàl tak kehta tha woh
Uskà bétà ilm banta hài
Bachhon ko insaan banata hài
Ab jab ration hui Leni mushkil
Woh apni nàzren churata hai
Bhúk chupata hai
Àb sawaal ek hi hai Uske Mann mein
Kyà shikhshak Hona ek bhool hài
©jeyforyou
To remember the silly and weird things I’ve done, we don’t have to go much back in time. So some 3-4 years back, I read this book called ‘Diary of a wimpy kid’ which is about a middle schooler who used to maintain a journal. That book really inspired me to start journaling. I wrote in my diary for a few days but this newfound interest of mine didn’t last for long. A few days back, I was cleaning my shelf when I stumbled upon my long lost friend, my diary. I read it to my sister and we had a good laugh over how pathetic my english was back then. Another trend that I got into was that of making slime. I used to nag my parents into buying borax and would empty bottles of my father’s expensive shaving foam but my slime would always turn out to be a disaster. One day, I finally mastered slime and a brilliant idea to manufacture loads of slimes at home and mint money crossed my mind. The first part of the plan went right but since I didn’t have any customers come to buy it, I ended up giving them to my friends for free. And my first business venture failed but thanks to my parents, I didn’t go bankrupt after this loss.
I didn’t stop there. I started making cringey tutorials on our laptop.
Well, now that I think of it, making these videos or journaling weren’t bad ideas. At least I have something that will remain with me forever and I can laugh about it for years to come. ©Vanshita Chhabra
My sore eyes daily see
An exodus of mothers
Being coerced by the devils of hunger
They plod homeward or destinations unknown
Some holding the hands of their children
Some holding their fingers
Some carrying their young ones on their shoulders
And some carrying in their wombs
Their shrinking bellies and withered faces
And dried lips and choked throats
Glaring blisters on the bottom of their feet
And their wounded toes
Mothers’ dying hopes for their sons return
My sore eyes clawing this hedious tragedy
Whose eyes do not moisture?
Does the ground beneath your feet not shudder?
And tell me who is there to account for?
©jeyforyou
And bring to my cognisance
How to untutor this mind
Of the strangeness of this summer
It’s unpleasantness abounds
My dumb shadow refuses to walk along
The street where faces feign affection
A prejudice harboured dearly in heads
Siphoning in walking agony into me
I say ‘no’ to the smiles of the marigolds
The fire in the bushes now lights me up
©jeyforyou
Mera Faāni Hona
Mere fanaa hone ki dalil nahin
Yeh jism Ka mârna v koi mârna hai
Maut tau täb h jab Rooh mar jati hai
Chalé aaoge mere jism ko dâfn karke jab
Tere chaukhat k dehliz pe Rooh Mera
Karega isteqbal tera ek musqurahat liye
Aé Maa Mera tujh se yeh waada hai
Banke chamkegi meri Rooh teri nazron mein
Kabhi banke musqurahat tere labön ki
Kheel uthegi mere Rooh jaise shabnam si
Faāni – mortal
Fanaa – end/death
Dalil – Evidence/testimony
Mârna – Die
Täb – When
Rooh – Soul
Dâfn – Bury/inter
Chaukhat/Dehliz – Threshold/door
Isteqbal – Welcome
Musqurahat – Smile
Waada – Promise
Chamkegi -. Glistening/shining
Nazron -. Eyes
Labön – Lips
Kheel uthegi – bloom
Shbanam – Morning
©jeyforyou
A morbid obsession for blood
Immeasurably this brain is consumed with
Thick line between human and savage obliterates
And what do you think of Whitman’s wish
©jeyforyou
wordsillumine