When it comes to your calling, logic doesn’t work straight. These lines are dedicated to my calling for the written word ❤ Continue reading “पुकार / Calling”
Dew – a haiku
After my prior failed attempt to write a haiku, I gathered some courage to give it another go. Do share what you all think of it! Continue reading “Dew – a haiku”
हल्दी के हाथ / Turmeric hands
I wrote this poem as a gift to my Mom, who celebrated her birthday a couple of days back. Happy birthday, Mumma!
Cashew cookies and a glass of milk
I lost my paternal grandparents a few years back and this poem is dedicated to one of my favourite childhood memories with them.
I went to see a friend today and ended up noticing the lit windows of the buildings on my way. The thought that behind every window is probably a person with a life as complex as my own moved me and I had to write it down, so I did. The word for this realisation is ‘sonder’. Continue reading “City lights”
Nest of Sunshine
I just had a lovely weekend in the hills, so it’s only natural that I write about it which I did. The wonderful array of shades in which the sunshine interacted with the hills made me feel as if the sunshine finds her favored home in the hills and only visits us elsewhere out of obligation 🙂
Amidst the roars of silence
my heart perches
the nest of sunshine.
I visited Varanasi last year and clicked this picture during my boat ride across the river Ganges. There was something about these shivering reflections that stayed with me all this time and today, when I began to write my first Haiku, this image was all I could think of. Continue reading “Reflections”
She began to crawl and she began to cruise
and she learned to utter ‘yes’ and ‘no’,
But no one remembers just when that baby girl
actually began to tiptoe. Continue reading “Tiptoe”
The illness of the setting Sun
This poem is the byproduct of anger against the burning of over 30 schools in the Kashmir valley amidst civil unrest. It is disturbing to see how low humanity can stoop and what horrors it can bring forth.
A life that slipped away without a hint
This poem is a translation of a poem I wrote long back. The original title was बीता हुआ जीवन and it is the voice of a person who is about to die and is evaluating his life in his final moments.
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