February 14, 2010

Being Human

While he sat and theorized
About the human race
And the people he had categorized
Without ever seeing a face

He found an uncanny connection
An anomaly he could not define
Something that brought them closer
And united their minds

They called it love
But he did not understand
Why the singularity never
Made any demands

He put them in boxes
To see how they react
Or rather to cure the syndrome
Is why he did it in fact

They lived in the boxes
But still felt the same
The innateness of the feeling
Must then take the blame

He felt powerless
So went to a happy face
Expecting retribution
Getting a warm embrace

An armchair theorist
Left his office and got a shock
For unentangled from his theories
He had found the human flock
(Creator of social stratification. Shown as a theorist. Hopeful failure of theories and stratification.)


January 17, 2010


Take a man, not too cold
Beat him till he has lost his goals
Impregnate his mortal soul
With greed and desires and stir the whole
Add the fear of growing old
Warm with love but let him be told
The price to pay for breaking the mold.


January 9, 2010

Now Reading

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.


Three for now
> Read a book a week
> Blog at least once a week
> Jog everyday

Second one checked off for this week, time to work on the other two.


भृकुटी तनेगी नहीं
दृष्टि थकेगी नहीं
सृष्टि और प्रगति की
कदमताल जमेगी नहीं||

दुविधा उठेगी नहीं
ये व्यथा बंटेगी नहीं
जब तक इंसान की
भृकुटी तनेगी नहीं ||


September 9, 2009

Lab Mice

I think it would be nice
If we were all lab mice
Taking things as given
Without thinking twice.

With a shelter provided
And workload divided
Scantiest of positive
reinforcement would suffice.

And our energies would be utilized
In a cause for the civilized
For the benefit of many
It would be a simple price.

No one over, none underfed
Living only for today instead
And let clarity prevail over charity
A little hedonistic, to be precise.

But a plastic promise is what we devise
And plastic hopes keep us alive
When living becomes
A futile exercise.

A dystopian poem, heavily inspired by "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley.


July 14, 2009


Made by me.
Don't ask why.
Click to make bigger.
More coming soon.