Songs from the Wood (1994)

In the forest of my sweet dreams
Lit by the warm sun beams
I wake up to the sound of dawn
The tapping hooves of a wild fawn
I swayed in joy, in this mellifluous mood
I swayed to the beats of the songs from the wood

From a distance, I could hear the cuckoo call
Up from the greenwood trees, so tall
The echoes of the monkey’s shriek
Were in perfect rhythm with the hammering beaks
I swayed in joy, in this mellifluous mood
I swayed to the beats of the songs from the wood

The humming of the busy bees
Around the hives, on tall trees
And the beavers snapping at the root
Sounded sweeter than the magic flute
I swayed in joy, in this mellifluous mood
I swayed to the beats of the songs from the wood

Welcome oh Mankind. Welcome, Welcome
Welcome here, this is God’s own kingdom
Come and listen to this symphony
This God’s own Royal Philharmony
Come, sway in joy, in this mellifluous mood,
Come, sway to the tunes, of the songs from the wood

Kashmir (1994)

The sun kissed the snow
And made the ice glow
As I skated away
On the thin ice of a new day

The smell of sweet saffron filled the air
As the cool wind ruffled my hair
I skated through the pine trees, so tall
Across the valley, I heard the echoes call

I felt so peaceful, I felt so nice
I felt I was in paradise
Paradise it was, this lovely highland
A picture painted with God’s own hand

And then I heard the bullets bang
The devil had dug in her venomous fang
The bullets punched holes in hell
And down from the skies, the rain of death fell.

This was no heaven, this was no Nazareth
This was no Neverland, this was the valley of death

The skies bled and the snow turned red
As the pine trees and I, fell down cold and dead

Will the wind of life blow over the valley, ever again?
Will God ever come down and undo the blood stain?

The House of Blue Light (Part I) (1997)

It’s a long and Winding road
It’s a long and lonely run,
I have none to pull, None to goad,
None to love, None to shun

In this besieged Bedlam,
I know what is wrong with me
All the world is an asylum
And I Suffer from sanity

Lonely black nights
Lit by blinding lights
Haystacks and Sunflowers on crumbling walls
Sounds of silence in noisy halls
I wander in winding maze
Lost in clouds of violet haze
Swirling winds and dizzy lights
Alone and sleepless on cold black nights

Now I know what is wrong with me
I suffer from sanity
Hungry clouds creep in through shattered panes
As I wander through winding lanes

When will see the house of blue light
Where dwells my angel of the night?
When will the roads stop winding?
When will the lights stop blinding?

Now I know what is wrong with me
I suffer from sanity
When all the world spins it seems
In infinite insane dreams

The Monkey's Curse (1997)

(Before you use the latest face pack or lipstick that hits the market, read this!!!!)

The world was better place to live in
It wasn’t the Bedlam it is now
Burdened by half baked lunatics
And vain vampires
It often makes me wonder
If we were born of the same God
Who put the same flesh and bones
And the same red blood, in you and I
God didn’t curse me with speech
Lest I speak blasphemy, like you
God didn’t curse me with the sixth sense
And I oblivious to the devil’s dirty tricks
Yet he made me believe
That you were the saviour, the deliverer
How wrong was he?
How wrong was I ?

You crack my skull
To see how much your thick skull can bear
You spill my blood
And smear it on your lips
To paint your perverted passions
You strip me of my skin
To cloth your impotency
And cut and castrate me
To cure it
I know you will never stop
Till there are no more skulls to crack
But yours
Till there is no more blood to spill
But yours
And there is no skin to strip
But yours
Yet you will not stop
Till you drain the last drop of blood
From your wretched body
Till you are stripped of your bones and flesh
Till you can pull out no more perversions
From the devils deep den
And you will fall
Vultures would vomit
Should they consume your filthy flesh
And worms would wriggle away
From your condemned carcass
And your soul too shall surrender
When satan beckons
The earth shall be rid of your burden
By your own hands
It wouldn’t be the bedlam it is now
When it shall bear creatures of the same God
One God

The House of Blue Light (Part II) (2000)

Lonely black nights
Lit by blinding lights
Haystacks and Sunflowers on crumbling walls
Sounds of silence in noisy halls
I wander in a winding maze
Lost in clouds of violet haze
Swirling winds and dizzy lights
Lonely and sleepless on cold black nights

My angel, My angel wont she come to me?
And join me in my sanity!
When all the world spins, it seems
In infinite insane dreams

I turned my face to the blackened sky
And from the depths of despair, let out a cry
And then at a distance I saw it shine
The house of blue light, with the angel divine

I heard her voice from across the maze
And the clouds vanished in a violet haze
The road was no longer winding
The lights were no longer blinding

My angel, My angel wont she come to me?
And join me in my sanity!
Like a pair of eagles we shall fly
And reach for that starlit sky

Cool moonlit night
Lit by the house of blue light
Haystacks and sunflowers on rainbow walls
The piper’s notes echo through silent halls
We fly around in the passageways
Floating through clouds of blue haze
Cool winds and warm blue light
Shining on, in sanity, on this starlit night!

Dream (2004)

Have you ever woken up from a seeming slumber and you aren’t sure if you were awake or dreaming?

Some say it happens all the time. They say it is whisky and grass…
At first sight it seems so..
You feel like you are wading through an infinite cloud, defying gravity with an unconquerable lightness..
Floating like a feather, dancing to the song of the whispering wind..
Like a bubble from the blow tubes of a gleeful child, rising all the time…….
And then the bubble bursts..
Disappearing without a trace..
And all that you are left with is a heavy head and a closet full of puke..


My neighbour’s teenaged daughter says it is love, with a twinkle in her eye…
The insatiable desire to let your heart rule your mind…..
Insatiable….? Hardly so…
It passes like a momentary burst of brilliance…
Like a lightning…
And the next moment you realize that all you love is your own gloated self…
Inventing feelings to sustain the constant need for acceptance..
An emotional insurance…

Her brother thinks its man’s most basic need.. Sex..
This all pervading urge to discover the animal in you..
The untutored instinct that makes you look at a woman’s breasts, while she, pretending to be unaware of your peripheral vision, is twisting her feet…..
The act of progeny and sustenance..
The ultimate zenith?

It only lasts till the semen hits the sink…
And maybe a couple of minutes more….

Sometimes I think it is science…
The language of life…
The falling apple and Einstein’s quintessential ride on the photon..
But then the cacophony of the screeching piece of chalk drives nails through my head..
And I feel much like the cat in the box..
Not knowing if I am dead or alive

And then I see it…
At first it is a small speck, just appearing in the corner of my eye..
And before I can realize, it engulfs me like a ravenous cloud
Dissolving and digesting everything in its path..
Diffusing through the seemingly impenetrable shell of reason…
And striking a chord with the chaos that lingers on endlessly inside me..
Like a child’s laugh…
It must be a dream….
Or is it?
I see it now..
It is life itself..
For you can never be sure if you are awake or dreaming!

The Teacher (2005)

In the corner of the classroom, I stand, pensive and perturbed.
The blackboard looks like the boundless night sky that draws you in like a black hole.
The frenzied noise is suddenly replaced by a delicate silence, broken only by the odd ruffle of the notebook.
I walk towards the board, not sure if I deserve the silence that fills the air...
I have been on the other side. That’s where we all begin.
For a moment, an uncontrollable urge to return to the other side to dissolve in the numbers and confine myself to the comfort of obscurity overwhelms me.
But there is no escape this time.

Will I ever return to the other side? That undeniably blissful sense of ignorance resonates in my heavy head, reminding me of its emptiness.

As I begin to write, the piece of chalk that I wield suddenly becomes a powerful weapon that will transcend the realms of imagination, like an all-pervading transmitter pinging the most inaccessible depths of the human mind.

I write on, oblivious to the dust that floats around me, unperturbed by the occasional screech across the blackboard.

The dust settles all around me, leaving imprints of my labour all over my clothes. Lumps of powdered chalk stick to the edges of my nails, almost like they have this compelling urge to percolate through my skin and fuse with the very bones that give a form to me and fibre my blood.

The irony strikes me….
It is like a family reunion for the unsophisticated chalk after all…

The marks on my clothes will disappear soon…
But anything dabbed on my mind is precious and indelible, even dust…

And then it dawns on me…
For no matter where I am in the classroom, I am always on the other side.