A Phonecall in the Night

Her voice uplifted my soul tonight,
My soul uplifted my cheeks.
It sings to me a lullaby
As tonight it can rest in peace.

I lie here with a subtle smile,
Eyelids shut my twinkling eyes.
They will twinkle tonight.
Because today is the night the clouds subside...
Not due to a storm but a gentle breeze...

My soul recites in its lullaby:
"How can her mere words suffice
To quieten your demons every time?"
It answers itself with a question again:
"Who quietens the demons better than an angel?"

It's not mere words, it's her musical voice.
Strings pulled right can quieten crowds.
It was a phonecall in the night.
But with that voice, it was not
Just a phonecall in the night...

Colours were added to the night.
Jigsaw found its lost piece.
Met my self after a long time.
She made me happier than pizza with extra cheese.
And if I come to die tonight
Tombstone will say, "Resting In Peace".

---Rakshit Nair

Tacenda

Her hair talked to my eyes
Her fragrance lured my nose
Her skin spoke to my skin
In a language which only they know

Her voice sang a song
My ears loved to listen
They didn't listen to the words
Just the music they carried within

Then, my eyes talked to her eyes
Told tales spanning pages
Few pure truths few cheeky lies
Amongst all, that conversation lasted the longest time
Eyeronic since they met for just a second, coz I'm shy

Amidst all talks my lips stayed together
For they knew we should never be together
The former always wins when it's head vs. heart
I guess that's why they call it a 'crush'
                                   

 ---Rakshit Nair

How Many Scars Did I Justify?

Both walked. Steps in sync.
Thoughts in sync.
Words on the tongue in sync.
But egos in sync too.

I've become a walking mortuary,
With bodies covered under my skin.
Dead bodies dying to be buried.
Bodies of unkept promises, together-forever-pictures, see-you-soon-messages...
Bodies of all the love I'm dying
To unlove inside of me...But. Just. Can't.

I think sometimes we cringe to burn down a bridge.
Maybe out of the admiration for its build,
Even though the landscape on the other side seems
Too barren and bleak.

For it may no longer carry the weight of its travellers.
But it still carries their stories...the conversations made,
The laughs gurgled, the tears shed, the memories shared.
We just leave it for time to weather and weaken...

And seasons later I come back again,
To sit on the same park bench.
The same bench we shared the last laughter in.
The bench is cold like it has always been.
And no, the weather is not the reason.
I continue to sit even though my bones feel the chill.
Just for one last time as I ponder and think:
How many scars did I justify
Because I loved the person wielding the knife? 

---Rakshit Nair

Lost in the Familiar...

Bewildered for brief
Baffled beyond belief
Billion thoughts bottled beneath
I becalm on the boulevard of broken dreams

Suffocating in the mediocrity
While others seem to be breathing free
Can't explain what it feels like
Feels like my throat threatened with a steel knife

Screaming inside. Freedom deprived.
Dragging through days tryna survive.
Scared of my own self...don't know why
It's like I'm dead but kept alive
Enough to feel the pain of my own demise

But "real eyes realize real lies"
I was just tied to the tides of time
Soul is the ether if time is the moon
Free and limitless...like the mind
Unpredictable like the rain off-monsoon

At the end of it all, just a dream survived...

To cut my hair and change my name
To start off clean slate
To storm out of my room one day
To head off unaware of the route or way
To just relish the journey
To seek and find my home some day...
                                

---Rakshit Nair

Jamais Vu

I’m a traveller. 
Every moment is a place I haven’t been before. 
Every person I meet isn’t somebody I have met before. 
Even the people I meet every day 
Aren’t the persons they were a day before.

Relations have lost names.
''Parent', 'Teacher', 'Relative', 'Friend''
Are just tags to be thrown in the bin.
Every person I meet is a book to be read, 
A book half-written. And I hold the pen 
To write the next chapter in.

Strings have been broken.
From everything and every person.
From everything out there and everything within. 
Not attached to even my own emotions.

And the word 'broken' has never been so relieving. 

Buried is my past and no worries of the future. 
It’s all about the now and the here.  

A void, filled with emptiness
An emptiness, brimmed with bliss 
A bliss, plump with love…

---Rakshit Nair 

Incomplete: Ode to my Girl Best Friend

I wish I could hug you once more
Tighter than ever before.

“I’m gonna miss you real bad”
Is something I wish I could tell.
But I know you’re real sad
With a heart that’s swelled.

Swelled with memories we share together
The hugs, the smiles, the talks, the laughter
I know this isn’t love
But something even better than that.

It’s a winter’s glove
A summer’s hat
A monsoon’s umbrella
An autumn’s cap.
A ship’s shore
A plane’s floor
Hahaha! Never before, probably my first,
That I’ve been so dumb with metaphors
But you know what we share is too much for words…

What we share is too surreal to deem
God! Now I feel so empty
Like my heart lost a piece
And my mind lost its peace
Amidst everyone I feel lonely

But I know distance is just a physical measure
A soulmate is a precious treasure
We may be galaxies apart
But I know in my heart
That no matter what
No matter how far…we’ll talk
We’ll talk in a language not written or read
In a language known to just you and me, we’ll talk

But I’ll miss the innocence in your eyes
And the honesty in your smile
The sparkle in your eyes
When you spoke of something you admire
I’ll miss the gurgle in your laughter
Which always makes me smile…

                                        ---Rakshit Nair

Mundane Money

Honestly, I’m just a ‘nillionaire’
My pockets have just lint and air.
I’m just a guttersnipe jamming his bread
With a butter knife.

But here’s something I wanna share:
In a country where ‘The Rupee’ sores
While ‘the rupees’ soar,
All your hard work is for money to be more
Loads of cash, some gold, long cars, a bungalow.

You’ve got no stories to tell, only got stuff to show.
You’re heading to hell is what I want you to know
Because that’s where people seeking money go.
Things are to be used and people to be loved
But in today’s world it’s the other way round.

Will Smith was right when he said and I quote:
“People spend money they have earned not
  To buy things they need not
  To impress people they like not.”

Luxury isn’t what you need but want
Luxury is with what you didn’t earn or own
It’s either with what you stole or you’re on a loan.

The word ‘loan’ reminds me of the bank concept:
It lends you money if you prove you don’t need it.
And if you fail to repay they treat you like a mad convict.

If you have a gun, you can rob a bank with it
But with the bank you can rob the world. Dig it?
It’s a true fact that money makes you kiss pigs.
I’m talking about the piggy bank (just in case)

Money is a tool to be used
But men have become tools of their tools
And they choose to use this tool to lure
You into a dudehood too good to be true.
But once they find their shoe it’s the end of the pool
And out of the blue, with no notice of due
Or chance to brew; you’re shooed away like a used tissue.

I wish friends too were like currency notes
So I could hold them to light to check for those
Which are fake and hoax and pocket those
Who may drown yet lend me their boats 

But don’t feel bad if you’re left off a list
Don’t feel sad, it’s not an apocalypse
People usually reject an expensive thing
Because they can’t afford it.

Let’s think of a time that passed us.
Not much, just a little backwards,
Remember what you read in the first verse.
Yes I’m practically bankrupt.

Then what right do I have left
To speak of money at that depth?
The right to speak- the freedom of speech.
Which I’m provided in our country.
Though ‘free’dom of speech is an irony
Because my dad does pay phone bills.

                                                   ---Rakshit Nair

 

 
 

Nyctophilia

Are you afraid of dark?
Why is it so if you are?
It has to be Dark
For you to see stars.
It has to be Dark
For moonlit skies.

It is Dark when you close your eyes.
“For sleep?” You might think perhaps
But you close your eyes for more than that.

You close your eyes
When you smell flowers. It’s Dark
You close your eyes
When you taste the food you love. It’s Dark
You close your eyes
When you listen to your favourite songs. It’s Dark
You close your eyes
When you feel a kiss. It’s Dark

It is Dark when you pray.
In Dark pupils dilate
So do they do when
You look at your loved one, they say.

And yes we close our eyes when we sleep
We close our eyes when we dream
“Wake Up!” my conscience screams
“Wake Up! And chase your dream.”


The zeal to succeed is my caffeine to achieve.
And trust me at first dark is all it seems.
But whips and scrubs will help polish me
“What doesn’t kill me strongs me.”

Dark times beat you to your knees
But those times teach you to your feet.
The only person you need to beat today
Is the person you were yesterday

God didn’t breathe life into me
Just so I could dig six feet deep.
I don’t work to compete, I work to lead,
I work on mastery, to conquer the peak.
And then watch others compete
To make their feet reach my feat.

                                                   ---Rakshit Nair

What's Love

Love is the most unexplainable feeling on earth,
But also the most talked about under sky.
Love is a feeling we experience since birth;
But I don’t know why, it’s special when it’s for a girl or guy.

A soothing runs from hair tip to toe.
Thinking about ‘that person’ makes your heart let go
Off the pangs of guilty conscience which makes you feel low;
The stress, the tension tugging at your temple which is hard to hold.

It tickles your tummy, you feel butterflies in you bowels.
You begin to ‘live’ life and start looking forwards.
Not out of the blue but yeah you come out of your blues.
In sync with the million fold chorus you get the hints and clues
That life is an opportunity, not to be wasted.
No matter how many tears you’ve tasted.
Life is all about the choices you make.
And the chances you take.

Sincere apologies for being awry with the last part.
But that’s what love does to you; it kills your focus in cold blood.
In love, clarity of thought is AWOL and love sounds evil when spelt backward.
                                                    

                                                  ---Rakshit Nair

Ordeal to Triumph

What got into my noggin was the bottle
As I warm a chair in a motel.
I could feel the cold metal right next to my temple.
The pain weighed a quintal. Weighing down my shoulders like a boulder.
It would take me just a second to squeeze the trigger.
Smile seemed like a riddle. Felt like the world cared for me little.
But within me I heard the sound of a fiddle
Which made my thoughts to swivel.
Hope is the symbol of seagull.
Uh-oh I think the previous line needs a reversal.
But I told you, what got into my noggin was the bottle…

I’ve travelled this long. Did it all on my own.
Didn’t have a mentor to guide me along.
Why travel footsteps when I can create my own?
All you wonder and are seemingly keen
Is to know how am I so cool as a teen.
But have you ever pondered where and what have I been?
What inspired me back was the fiddle inside of me
Climbed, captured and conquered the peak.
This is the place that I’ve always been.
Who’s incredible upon the same pedestal as me?
But like every game, competition is a must to meet.
Bring it on peeps coz I ain’t scared to compete.
Because no matter how many fish in the sea
It’ll be so empty without me
Check! There is still left to achieve-
So kindly wipe the slate clean.

There is still within a thirst unquenched-
A fire still unextinguished-
To swim out of the mainstream and jump off the edge.
A competent within waiting to be challenged.
You need to have the zeal, the will and the courage
To compete and succeed and break out of the cocoon which
Recedes you, veils you and conceals your true self.
So stack your arsenal with your ammo and fuel your chariot with your rage.
Do something impossible like find a rhyme for orange.
Oh! I just did. It goes door-hinge and porridge and storage or Stone Henge. 

                                            ---Rakshit Nair