The precarious path to 'Punk Sunk Love': A glimpse of darkness that pierced Shammi's hea

A novel is written, sold, celebrated, treasured and archived. But there is something that is never the same - It's the author's intimacy with the characters that at times end up bending his own reflection.

This is the first post of the 'Making of Punk Sunk Love series': A glimpse of darkness that pierced Shammi's heart

The hazy light shone in the backdrop as the funky beats of "American Boy" bounced of the dizzying cathedrals. The place was Columbus, Ohio and the hotel was 'The Renaissance'. I was there but it wasn't me; how could it be - I was living Shammi's life; his pain was so pure it had to touch his heart and stir his soul, and there I was at the bar, by the window, watching people go by; but the emotional paranoia was such that everything looked like it was a deliberate design to fuel my loss - Shammi's loss. In that moment of reflection a poem swam up and flew out of my pen onto that hotel notepad. The title was just...apt - Maar De Mujhe

Kahin se awaaz aayi, pata nahin kahan se

Sanaate mein goonj ke kehne lagi

Maar de mujhe, Maar de mujhe.....

Ainak lagake dekha to saamne aaina tha

Chehra kuch badal gaya tha, Jaise seengh nikal aaye ho

Dimaag ratt lagaye baitha tha, sahi hai yeh, sahi hai yeh

Par awaz dimaag ki dhund mein kho gayi

Aur masoom dil ki karahein sanaate mein goonj ke kehne lagi

Maar de mujhe, Maar de mujhe…

Hasti ki gulami se daba

Deemag ki pehredari se dara

Sona ko dhool se sawaara