Writing of You.


Dear best friend,

I know, you’ve asked me,

So many a times- to write,

Of you.

And I always pretend, like-

I’m just a few words short,

From hittin the perfect spot.

But the fact is,

I rather don’t want to.

Cause, I am scared.


Scared, that someday,

You’d move on. Find,

Better friends.

And we’d lose the connect,

That we’ve always had.

And these verses, would stay:

An aching reminder,

Of our glorious days,

As the memories slowly-

Erode away into tragic oblivion.


And then, one fine day:

I’d look at these lines,

And it’d hit me hard, unexpectedly. That-

There are no tears,

To hold back;

Or moments,

To retrospect,

On. And now,

My worst fears,

Have come into play,

And the lines stay:

As Mere Words.

Black on white. Nothing more.

Nothing less.


That, would be a truly tragic end,

Dear friend.


Hope you understand.





– Ish Aan.



Superman’s Been Lying.

Man of Steele,
Built to kill;
Born to serve,
Has supers skills;
World to save,
The dangers grave;
But he got the back,
Of human race.
So don’t ya worry,
Take a break;
He gonna keep,
All shit in place.

Cuz he is superman,
The mightiest of the mighty man;
Sets the order,
Works the plan;
Shit goes down,
He gonna take a stand.
Real strong,
Real brave;
Always there to save the day.

But superman’s been lying,
Saying everything’s fine;
Beneath that skin of steel,
There’ a sorrow that he hides.
Trumpin’ all evil-
But it’s the war within,
He can’t fight.
He might be the superman,
The mightiest of the mighty man;
Acts like shit’s all-
Spick and span!
But beneath the calm face,
It’s a mess;
But there ain’t nobody,
To hear his crass.

Cuz expectations are sky high,
“Superheroes aren’t supposed to cry.”
Says who?
I wonder why?
Why can’t he have some,
Alone time?
It is just too much to ask?
For a ear to hear,
His story;
For a hand,
To wipe his tear.
Is it all the cost of his glory,
That he’d forever have to bear?

Does he have to go-
On & on,
On & on;
Actin’ strong,
Like shit’s ain’t all so frigging wrong!

~Ishaan Phukan.

It’s Time.

I woke up to the news of another rape;
And looking at all the protests that rage,
All around.
Its almost funny,
How nobody gives a damn;
About ahimsa,
And protests and slogans,
That we relay!
And its so easy to say,
‘We are walking for change.’

But, I wonder,
If you have wondered,
That hard;
To notice that,
We are the own counter statement,
To the statements we make.

Why do we watch movies,
Where the woman,
Always gets nabbed?
Why is the hero,
Always a man?
Who the hell to blame?
The shorter clothes,
Or the smaller ‘soch’ ?
Don’t ask the politicians,
Cuz they only do shit for votes.
The police,
Are too busy tryna guard these unholy souls;
As they move from places to place,
With their expensive escorts!
Making promises they don’t intend to keep,
To people who don’t mean,
Nothing to em.
What a shame!
And yet, we line up like fools,
Outside the booth;
Every election day,
Believe on the same shit they say,
Year after year,
Every damned way.
I wonder what to say.

I wonder what to say….

I know,
An eye for an eye,
Ends up making the whole world blind,
But keep using nonviolence,
And we shall all die;
A sad death:
For change that never came,
Progress that still stays the same,
In Gandhi’s name.

But those were different days,
A primitive age,
When Independence was all,
That we used to crave,

But this in a different century,
With lesser lives to spare,
And more rights to care,

I wonder if you are listening,
Cause it’s time;
To play the Sinners in their own game.
Skip the blame,
Start the uprise;
Violence can always be justified,
To stop something that a billion people think,
Isn’t right!
So, I urge you,
To skip the candles;
Raise the voices harder,
And fight.
It’s high time,
Raavana has to Die.
Justice cannot be even delayed,
And not just denied!
There has to be the same fear,
In the eyes,
Of every rapist,
That lies,
In the eyes of every women,
Going out at night.
It’s time.

It’s Time….

~Ishaan Phukan


What I am going to talk of now,
Maybe absurdly preposterous;
But if you see what I see,
You would notice a paradox;
Hidden beneath,
The shadows of progress;
All the hollow hype;
Underlying all the social stress.

What if,
I tell you to stop doing,
Whatever you are.

Tell you that it is almost futile.

Don’t react,
And listen,
For a while.

I ain’t no firm believer,
But Buddha got his basics right;
The eight-fold path,
And his words of profound delight.
And of his blissful preachings,
I only borrow a part;
A humble piece,
Of the master’s impeccable art.
The words about greed,
To be precise.

You can go on and on,
Working your life away;
Working harder,
Progressing farther and further,
But the fact is:
Excitement is like the shine,
Which fades away with time.

The car you worked so hard to earn,
Doesn’t feel right no more;
Cause there is a better one,
Behind those showroom doors.
Your dream home,
Needs a replacement too;
Cause Bigger the better,
Now seems just so true.
There are a hundred examples,
And these are but only a few.
But my point is:

It is all a circle.
It all goes round and round,
Around the same white lies;
And excuses,
Bout how happiness is on the other side.
But the fact is,
Happiness ain’t no destination,
But the ride;
It can’t ever be achieved,
But only be realised;
Sans any requisites,
At this very moment,
Without a restraint of space and time.

All you need to do,
Is believe and be humble;
For all the joy you have ever had,
And for the sorrows you have overcome.

For in acceptance,
Lies the glorious victory;
And in humility,
The greatest success.

Now, change is inevitable,
Desirable rather;
So, please don’t take my opinion,
As a calling for laziness to reign.
I desire not to stop the motion,
But only redirect it.

To break the circle,
To set the line.

                                               – Ishaan.

Tell Me What My Worth Is.

Tell me where my worth lies?
Is it my body,
The face;
My hair,
The eyes?
Cut the chase,
Skip the lies,
Cause I have been through this shit,
For like the hundredth time.
Don’t tell me you like talking to me,
When I can clearly see,
That all you need is a head,
Or maybe a wild night.
Someone to give you the thrills,
The joy ride.
Someone to hook up with,
Someone who can be treated like shit,
But still be there,
Till the end. Dancing –
To your rhythm,
The beat. Grooving –
To your lies,
But believe me, shit has changed,
I am just not your kind,
Anymore, Ever-after.
So, tell me where my worth lies.

A humble request.

– Ishaan Phukan



It’s class 12,

And school’s almost come to an end;

Finally, I don’t have to pretend,

About how I like it;

Act like I don’t actually despise it,

From the core of my heart.

I am so glad,

Finally, our ways part.

But then, as I retrospect,

And ponder,

Into the years that rolled by,

I wonder-

Of the root of all the memories,

I made;

And unexpectedly,

It turns out to be,

The place I used to hate –

All these years,

The reason for my morning nightmares.

And the jitters,

I used to get;

Waking up from my bed,

With a sleepy head,

And the splash of cold water,

Gosh! Don’t even mention that.

But, then:

It’s within those four walls,

That most of my memories,

Were etched,

Among dynamic foes,

And transient friends;

The lessons I learnt,

The old bridges that we burnt,

And the new ones we built.

All captured,

In vivid stills,

And reminiscing smiles;

In the minds,

And eyes,

Of every single soul,

Who was once a student.

Ask each one and you’ll know,

Of the value it holds in every heart;

They’ll tell you it’s much more,

Than just big books and lengthy notes;

Ask of the fun they had,

They would tell you tales of glory and galore;

(Some may be censored out tho)

And look into their soul,

Observe –the excitement that flows,

Within em,

The passion,

That oozes out from every pore;

That would be the true face,

My friend,

Of this boring place,

That we know as school.


  • – Ishaan Phukan

Papier-mâché man


Flawed and outworn,

Chiseled from a hundred rejections;

Sheer disgrace- transformed into,

A graciously impeccable perfection!

Torn and crushed,

And born again;

Hardened from the inside- by a feeling,

Vile and vain!

Once, I was paper thin, today-

Am a papier-mâché man;

Yesterday was a weaker me, now-

Stronger and firmer, I stand!

I’ll seldom last forever and that- I know,

Only too well;

Yet living for the moment, ahead I stride on-

(For destiny shall unfurl,


And no tide shall remain,


But of my transience:

Only time shall tell….

  • -Ishaan Phukan





The screech,

The scream,

The spasm,

It was happening all over again,

Only this time,

I was witnessing it first-hand.


The pain so intense,

That my limbs have started-

To numb out!

My vision ebbing away,

Just like the air-

In my lungs.


The time turning agonizingly-

Slow, as the crowd,

Huddles around- staring,

At me, as if-

I were some peculiar insect,

Rapidly, changing its colors.


I want to scream out,

Real loud;

For help,

And then.

My intuition hits me.


How many times had I seen,

Such an incident unfold-before me,

And I had only joined the crowd,


 Merely stare on;


Silently accept,

What was wrong- but,

Now the sides have changed:


I was the wood;

And Karma,

Was the flame.

I was now the victim,

Of my own cold game.


I try to get up,

I fall back down,

I frown,

But nobody’s coming around,

I scream,

I shout,

I struggle-

I swear,

 I can feel the approaching trouble,

As my insides turn,

To rubbery rubble.

How could it be,

That my fate was closing in on me,

And then, these words,

I recall:

“As you sow,

So shall you reap.”


I wake up,

To a vast serenity of white,

Was I in heaven?

Something just didn’t feel, right!

I kinda felt,

More alive;

Then I remember,

The last time;

Before I died.


Just then,

The Doc walks in,

And tells me,

That it was real,


I had survived,

A stranger had saved my life,

Brought me to this hospital,

In time.


I asked,

‘Where was he?

I needed to thank him,

Cause without him,

I would have been another numbered coffin.

In the morgue’,

But the doctor says,

He’s gone,

But he’s left a message:

Dear friend,

It doesn’t kill,

To lend a hand you see,

To be a lil’ more human,

Then you have ever been!


-Ishaan Phukan








Just One Shot



The whole world turns into a blur,

Into shades of yellow, neon and black,

Flashes of memories,

Twists and swirls in the head;

Uncontrolled feelings,

Bursts of anger, remorse and regret.

The newfound confidence,

And the enormous hope you get;

Is it not awesome,

Isn’t it the reason why you fret?

A shot,

Just one shot,

Is it not what you told every single day;

For the inner peace,

Is it not what you said?

And oh my!

Look at you today;

At the most peaceful stage,

Aren’t ye?

As in your coffin you lay.

Still and unemotional,

Unaware of the tears,

Your loved ones shed;

For when the chips were down,

You always fled!

Just one shot,

Followed by another;

The awesome highness,

Followed by a regretful hangover.

Sucked in,

Deeper and deeper into a lonely void;

Until at the cliff of death,

You stood.

You screamed,

But none heard;

You cried,

But none cared;

And only then,

Did you realize!

That to yourself and everyone else,

You were none,

But an unknown infidel,

Gaping through the darkness,

With a ton of regrets,

But it was already too late,

The time had been long gone!

All you could do now,

Was lament on fate,

On the cost of just another shot,

Which you paid with death!


                              –Ishaan Phukan


Our World



Human civilization,

At the pinnacle of progress;

The pace of innovation,

At an all-time best!

The Chinese –striving to be better,

Than the rest,

While the Americans,

Line up for their IPhone X!

The Indians –aiming,

For the stars;

Meanwhile Italy banks –

On faster cars!

Israel finessin’

Their weapon tech;

As North Korea envisions,

A nuclear wreck!

The world going gaga,

Over Kendall, Kylie and Kim;

And Trump –

Well, never mind him.

But beyond this glamour and shine,

Shall you find,

A world, in which:

The water is rising,

We’re losing our ground;

Spoiling our soil,

Which the chemicals we found.

The rivers are,

Slowly shrinking;

And whatever’s left of it,

Isn’t even fit for drinking!

The carbon dioxide is,

At an all-time high;

With every passing day,

Our temperatures rise.

The atmosphere –poisoned,

By smoke and smog;

Our lungs have already started to clog.

The society we built,

On the ruins of others,

Is cavin’ in;

Karma hitting back at us,

For our own ruthless sins!

Hurricane Katrina,

Which blew off all hopes;

The Japanese earthquake,

Shaking everyone to their very core!

The Sumatran Tsunami,

Which swept away millions,

Typhoon Nina,

Causing losses of billions –

Of dollars!

Yet, we never learn,

Do we?

And don’t dare forget,

The Bhopal Gas Tragedy;

Or, the Dioxin cloud of Sevesso;

For they stand as evidence,

Of our stubborn mockery!

The people are dying,

My friend,

The people are dying!

And everything –

 Is fallin’ apart,

Our monuments,

Tearing in through our own hearts!

 It ain’t about your nation,

Or mine, for the fact;

It’s about our world,

In which we need to coexist peacefully,

So, I think –

 We can do better than that!


  • Ishaan Phukan