Pieces of an idea interspersed with exaggerations,

Half baked truths cooked in wily imaginations,

Tickling the subtlest of the subtle desires,

Vivid images that one thoroughly admires

Sink slowly into the depths of human mind

Leaving behind their imprints for one to find

The way to the hands that weave and sell such magic

In the theatres of mind, where their creations become nostalgic.

How beautiful is this imagination of a thing so boring!

A game of deceit, a wordly need though but I can’t stop myself wondering !

Subrat Mohanty


A world beyond the world

I wander through those known lanes of this unknown world,

In search of those answers that life asks me so often.

In those solitary moments when time seems to have stopped by,

I hum few nostalgic tunes, I paint few unfinished dreams.

I gaze at those walls, trying to decipher what is means.

Few definitions are scribbled on it.

I wonder whether my dreams will fit in it

The hues are striking, the strokes are bold,

The walls seemed to have hardened and now they seem cold.

I run through those dusty lanes, under those hanging curtains,

Jumping across the fractured roads that once did met,

Running into the twilight as the sun is about to set,

I quietly escape into the world that no one yet knows,

In a solitary corner of mind where the river of hope flows,

Where I live a second chance for every moment that passes by,

Where the possibilities seem limitless,

Where all the boundaries dissolve and no one here seems helpless,

Silent yet powerful musings, mystic yet beautiful feelings,

I know it is possible and that is what each time my soul sings.

Subrat Mohanty

What if the world falls silent one day

What shall happen if the world stops speaking for one day ?

What shall happen if the world just pauses for a moment in its way ?

Lives are overflowing with logical confusions.

We perhaps walk in search of truth through the towns of illusions.

Our voice has sunk in the sea of excited emotions.

We search for our identity amongst our masks of pretentions.

Till when can it go on?

Slow down a bit.

Look at thyself for a while.

Don’t speak so much.

Words are still vague, you know.

Look at the thoughts as they come slow.

Like a stream trickling through the woods

Quietly brushing aside memories, shaping the moods.

It is easier to just be you.

Just be and speak words few.

Let your soul answer you.

Let this moment engulf you.

For a moment let the boundaries of mind dissolve

Allow thy confusions, thy dilemmas resolve.

For a moment, let silence be your language..

Subrat Mohanty

Struggle against sleep

Far from the tangible world, out of the frames of time,

Lost in the land of dreams, when the sleep is at its prime.

Time flies but the sleep flows,

Hardly hours have passed yet outside the window the sun shows.

The sun pours in the rays.

After some time nature sounds its call.

Alarms sound one by one,

Heads pop out of blankets one by one,

Half opened eyes scan for the alarm,

To silent the culprit who causes their sleep, harm.

Silence befalls again.

Lazy minds renew their love with sweet slumber once again.

Logic is lulled by the dreams that get back to work.

All notions of day and night vanish once they are inside the blanket, closed and dark.

The ghosts of time which they kill, returns to haunt them some day.

Day after day, they regret with a smile “Difficult to get up so early, we fall asleep everyday.

Subrat Mohanty

Silent dreams

Not all the things are to be told,

Few wishes I still silently hold,

Beneath the depths of conscious mind,

Where the world can never find.

I stare at them during those solitary moments.

I often slip into those moments.

Living it in me,

Million images in a moment, I see.

Few dreams are to be dreamt in private.

Quietly doing things and then leaving the rest to fate.

I often found the world too restless.

They ask only for facts-Mere visions are baseless.

They throw tantrums that I am not interested in

I have quietly dumped all their useless words in a dustbin.

I live with the present yet grow everyday with a dream

Quietly playing in the theatre of my mind, the film of my dream.

Subrat Mohanty

Fallacies of wordly life

Today it is there, tomorrow it may not be.

Perhaps, time overpowers all – whether it is the rest of the world or me.

We plant the seeds of our actions and then wish to take away the trees of results,

Decorating with memories, they are like mirage in the deserts.

What has come, has to go one day.

What has gone, has to come back somehow somewhere one day.

Knowing that we still beg, cry and pray.

We still live in hallucinations,

We still love pretensions,

We still wish to hear false yet sweet words.

We harbour grudge in our hearts and yet worship the gods.

We see our future in the present.

We yearn for our present in future with resent.

We crack a joke to make others laugh.

Yet we know not one which can make our lost minds laugh.

Sometimes I wonder, what is life ?

A truth that seems like an illusion or an illusion that is actually a truth.

Subrat Mohanty

Being yourself

You have been what they wanted you to be. Now try being yourself.

It is easy to look up to others, but try speaking your voice yourself.

Random,eccentric,ugly or absurd.

Be it boring like a rock or dashing like a blizzard.

Don’t close your eyes to it.

That is the real you, accept it.

Fake things can be attractive but truth is always beautiful

When you have nothing to pretend for, life seems peaceful.

You tried to make them happy but they shall never be.

The more you feign, higher will their expectations be. After all, when shall you live free?

Free from the chains that tie you to imaginary words that you want to hear from them

In an imaginary world where you are their idol sitting in the throne of fame.

So, let it be now at least – be the being who you are and who you are supposed to be

For once, shutting your senses, peep within and see.

Subrat Mohanty


No point, no topic as such they have,

But still, hour after hour long discussions they have.

On matters which hardly matter them,

Be it scandals of shame or matters of fame,

Whether they know or they know not,

All the things that they talk about a lot,

Round and round, this circle of discussion revolves.

Like a tornado rotating at its place,

Drawing in like minded people, catching their attention,

Who start off feebly yet later become comrades in discussion.

Jokes are cracked, sarcasm is played upon,

Rumours are fuelled yet the facts are never touched upon.

The discussions that were never to start but now hardly look like ending

Word for word, argument after argument they go about shamelessly fighting and defending

Subrat Mohanty

A mental block

Random thoughts appear and disappear,

Hardly do I know where they go and where they were,

But now they hover around me like a swarm of flies.

A reflection of the past or simply a packet of lies ?

Intellect seems overpowered.

I feel a bit coward,

To face them head on and then to move on.

I move neither ahead nor back.

I keep lurching to and fro in my track.

Gazing simply at what they hint to me,

Trying to find what I should be,

Where should I go and how should I go,

Emotions have frozen and now thoughts come slow.

Perhaps there is something that someone wants me to know-

A new thought, a new way,

Or just a silent lesson for me to learn today.

Subrat Mohanty

A note to my critics

It is always easier said than done.

To sit and talk like you do is nothing but fun.

You said “Do it this way, that way” And now get up and try once doing it.

Let your hands ache a little, but try doing it instead of saying it.

You try to nail me down every moment for my every mistake,

You blow whistle at every fancy risk I take.

You often counted my faults, subtracting the many good things

There were times, when I heard from you, only harsh words about the few bad things.

But nevertheless, I still say to you “Thank you !”

For those bad things few,

Which you showed to me then, would have sunk me some other day.

But, I repaired myself and now I walk a different way.

Each time, you hit me hard on my head,

After each rude comment you said,

I ran faster and faster against the winds of your doubts and apprehension,

To prove you wrong, to write my own good song, I worked with passion and aggression.

And now, don’t stop hitting out at me,

For each time you come hard at me, a better ‘me’ you will see.

Subrat Mohanty