Time had stayed on, the night was here to stay
Isolated, thoughts were alone in a nowhere precinct
It was warmer there than the cold visage bestrewed
Silence had never been so tender and perfervid
For thoughts to speak out their vestal assertions
Forced by the vicissitude and enamoured by the lay
Time had to change the countenance it had had so far
Thoughts had met their bard under the waxing moon
In the loneliness of the night’s nowhere gallery
Beginning a conversation silence had always sought
The night had just arrived and was here to stay..



©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


“For I feel for I happened to be someone”
“For I felt I was not that one”
“For I felt I was not who I was”
“For I feel I am who I am”
“For I felt I needed to be someone”
“For I feel I will be someone”

“For I feel I have denied the moments their right to play with me”
“For I feel they still feel they can play with me but..”
“For I feel I feel their despair to loose the winning vein”

“For I feel for the rustles in the layers”
“For I feel for the layers to be living vague identities”
“For I feel for identities that struggle”
“For I feel for struggles more numerous than others..”
“For I feel for that anxious urge of identities to come alone, to go along”
“For I feel for this stasis and resurrection of layers to bind their identities”
“For I feel for this urge of layers to be one in harmony with all the parallelism”

“For I feel for what I felt for who I was,
“For I feel for that co-existence with that subtle parallelism”
“For I feel for that forgotten aspect added to my thoughts”
“For I feel for my Soul to be there for this”
“For I feel for my Soul to be with me”
“For I feel for the urge of rustling layers to be one with.. be one with the splutter of the raining beads of thoughts”
“For I feel for I need to feel what I felt”

July 23, 2009

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


He was not able to read the Absence in him, an Absence the paradigms of which were so familiar to him.

He loved to read and read regularly the writing of his life experiences, their liveliness and the void of their silent moments.

But something was amiss this time.

Also, the want of the ‘Absence’ was shadowing all other that was present.

Though, he still loved to read the life, he was not in communion with his soul to read the Absence today, because he was not able to personify his thoughts.

They were running together. They were not talking.

They were walking together. They were still not talking but their steps were in unspoken unison.

They were trying to read each other. The silent space between them was uniting their thoughts to converse, giving them the opportunity.

Yet, he was not able to read the Absence in him this time. He was not able to personify the Absence in him this time.

He was not able to experience this experience though he knew he had to read it, to make sense of all other that was present.

There was no other way but to come back to it, to try again, to talk to the silence of the Absence, to sit across its personification, to read the life, to make sense of the passage to the time again.

Life is about living it regularly.

Living is about reading the life consistently, in fusion with its liveliness, in harmony with its silence.

A life’s identity is about existing in its fulsomeness. It is about inhabiting its voids.

He was not able to make sense of everything else in the life today. He was not able to talk to the Absence in him today.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –


The words and the soul they had

Still sound so meaningful to me

 Cannot say why I read them still

Again and again, wishing for more

 Words that push the lost person in me

To be found, to become soulful again

 The words and the soul they had

Given a life by your presence

 Words, now personified by your absence

Cannot say why but they stayed

 Maybe, to be with my loneliness

To heal, when I seek nothing but you

Cannot say why I still care for you

Maybe, your silence still speaks to me

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – 


Questions that life invariably, incessantly throws


Questions that may bring an omen of woes

Questions that may then hasten the rows

Questions that sometimes may go overdose

Questions that sometimes embrace thorn of the rose

Questions that, at times, seem verbose

Questions that then lose repose, become grandiose

Questions that, at times, repulse to comatose

Questions that the lose the structured impose

Questions that no more look for their appose


Questions that may bring together

Questions that may send afar

Questions that may push to the altar

Questions that then bring inner to the war

Questions that then may invite the scar

Questions that then push the life on the antiar

Questions that split open the compose of vicar

Questions that then become the scimitar

Questions that then trade openly in the bazaar

Questions that then synthesize the spar


Questions that sometimes bring the thought

Questions that, at times, make them at odd

Questions that create nowhere of the myriad

Questions that remind the agony of the ciudad

Questions that may emanate from the rot

Questions that then reminds of a zealot

Questions that then may run to find the abbot

Questions that then may crash into their Godot

Questions that sometimes may go for upshot

Questions that then become a silent lot


Life has been the chronicling

Questions being their meandering

Answers have lost the numbering


Answers that know the art of expressing

Silence is the language goes on not expecting

Silence is the connect that goes on recruiting


There comes the moment inveterate

Questions and answers amalgamate

Words bleed on to aerate

No words remain the only recruit

Silence speaks, questions and answers mitigate

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –