Digital Vandalism

The cause is more relevant than the act. The story is more intriguing than the conclusion. When confronted by a choice of entertainment versus rationality, we often choose to slide with the former. I recall reading the stories of Panchtantra, Akbar Birbal, Tenali Rama, and Vikram Betal with much fascination as a child. Several of these tales revolved around solving crimes, punishing the culprit, and providing justice to the innocent. Often reminding us that in an ideal kingdom, the scales of justice are always kept in balance. Fast forward to contemporary times, and the crime rates are much higher than anyone in these stories could have ever contemplated. The issues of public inconvenience today aren’t merely one farmer taking the land of another or a potter trying to dupe a customer through a fake pot, we have an assortment of ideas conquering the minds of the bourgeoisie. We do not view crime through the black-and-white filters that our ancestors so eagerly used.  We are gullible ; o

Do I have to be in the limelight to shine? Do I need a microphone to speak? I look back in time  And take a road trip down my memories Some bollywood party song is in playing on a speaker Remember that 2000s era that we miss? Yeah, we are singing chorus You are dancing like no one’s watching And i I can barely move my feet You are angry at me  For tagging you along on my road trip You say you don’t like it one bit I ignore you because i know you’re just hungry We stop at some roadside dhaba for dinner You say it’s the best food you’ve ever had We wish we could do it everyday Together? oh we never said that I am driving slowly As we pass the tunnel of misunderstandings It has been long since we last spoke I try to ask you how you’ve been, but my voice croaks I wish you could just read my mind I would let you absorb the eternal ramblings of my daily life Like we are in some sci fi movie Pretending to be superheroes  I wish you called me once in a while My urge to write to you is lost  In

We are two detectives  on two ends of two telephones talking in verbal codes and sometimes in Morse Do you get it? Tip tap tippy tap a word of mine could save your world and I deliberately avoid  saying that word so that you can continue to rely on me we stay in this void that telephone line has created for us of electrical signals and discrete-time    you hate my incompliance  we are stuck by the cords since you struck the chords i blinded you with science I guess you still want to see the world but I like it better when you are blind, deaf and cannot speak Do you get it? Tip tap tippy tap a word of mine could save your world and I deliberately avoid  saying that word so that you can continue to rely on me

here I sit on a wooden chair inviting the birds of felony to scratch my skin and choose my nerves as the building block of their domicile here I stand alone on street staring at a dead twig menacingly the tree it left now soul bereft I pick it up and twist it in my knee here I walk with a girl under an umbrella beneath the roof she called me to join in her facade now I accompany the  drizzle in her heart

I saw the nail paint dripping on our mahogany table We bought it yesterday, I think, Sammy didn't let me remove the label We are still setting up our home The house is under construction The photo frame in our bedroom is crooked The refrigerator doesn't function I looked up from my trance away from the brick red liquid We are in this together, he said, Sammy believes we will be forever We are still shifting  The boxes with the word 'FRAGILE' The cupboard is now lined with our clothes The mirror shows me in flannel I can't stop the nail paint the color has now reached the edge We know we won't fight but Sammy will be upset  We are still drifting The table is no longer there The house seems to be spinning The red liquid is all I have. 

It conceals the blue-laden sky   Like a mirror;  Searching into the depths of silver    Painted on its back  A quest for a soul and perhaps more  To be savoured by spiritless self   Shall it find me, standing there   Awaiting the bleak blank of blue  A sight for the heavens or perhaps azure  To be prayed out of pique  I stare at the dark parchment  That is glued;  The window ate the ceiling fan  Hanging by the roof  Just some time before it comes for you  Takes up sorrow, grants nothing new  Will you be happy, asks window  I shake my head in disdain  The water would flow despite stones in path  You took my sorrow in vain  Then, it stood there like inanimate   As if dead;  The graveyard of which is storeroom  That lay in dark  A part of world that stood far, aloof  Filled of things from my past  There is this window in between   I lean on it and speak  Absence of grief is not glee, glazed being  The sky is, let me peek   It shuddered its metal beams subtly  Like a prison;  The bars that

 there was a knife bleeding with the blood of someone I killed  lying next to a corpse, white like paper I thought he used to be red until I sucked blood from him and now I stare lifelessly at his deadly being eyes open, like he knew it was me and wanted to be I am falling  falling from the standard of sanity I wish I shrieked but my throat was thin dry like I am choked by the sand of guilt there were two people until a minute and now there was one wondering if it deserved to be a l i v e and d e a d could one be? can we even live after we kill? there was a curtain and it was all turned red oh I wish I had some bleach bleach for the floor and some bleach for my head erasing everything just erasing everything      or I could take pills and sleep could I sleep? I will wake up dead like him tomorrow staring the world through empty pupils I will see many walking people again  but wonder if I can kill there was a knife and it was caked with the blood of someone I killed I heard the sirens o