Tuesday, 12 September 2023

Morning Breeze

I inhale deeply
The freshness of dawn
They say it's pollution
I call it life

Saturday, 2 September 2023


I surrender all

And find solace in 
As is

To realign the 

I give up the
What ifs


A Post Script

Those butterflies
Churning inside 

I know

The river
Changes course
And sometimes
Fences too

        Shared with Poets And Storytellers United

Pic from Pinterest

Sunday, 6 August 2023


 He was a lanky youth

I had just started wearing saree

We took the Chartered Bus from the same stop in the mornings

It was my first job

With a meagre salary

Fresh from College and a sheltered cocoon

I was naïve, shy and saw the world through rose tinted shades

I knew he watched me covertly

Though he sat at the far end of the bus

Where the seasoned men played cards

The ladies sat in front and kept to themselves

I did not know much about him

Sometimes in the evenings 

We again happened to take the same commute home

A few months later I got a seat next to his

By choice

He said he was a year younger to me

I was crestfallen

I had read about "the tall, dark and handsome " 

Who knew how to deal with the world 

 Whom the girls of marriageable age swooned over

"The most eligible bachelor ..."

The mothers crooned to each other

But he knew who to choose

The innocent virgin.....the one who would surrender to his ways 

Without a word of protest

From that day onwards

I ignored him

I did not know about him though

He knew too many things about me

And then he stopped coming in the bus

I wondered why

But that morning...

We bumped into each other one last time

He told me he was being transferred

To another city....?

I too had my plans of shifting base

We did not say good bye

But just crossed the road 

Without a word

I towards the bus stop

He towards home

Oh yes! We were neighbours

A few years later

In the Puja Pandal

Saw him standing at the far end 

I had come over for the vacation

It seemed he still watched me from the corner of his eyes

Greenish brown fringed with curly lashes

We never spoke of course!

It did not make sense

My life had taken a different bend

Away from his 

And I had too many plans which never matured at the end


Long time after

Again during a vacation

I saw him  walking into the Puja Pandal

Holding the hand of a girl child

A dark woman by his side

His pale skin had a deep tan now

He wore a pair of spectacles

Elderly....serious....responsible....a family man 


Yet for a moment he was startled to see me

Still the same perhaps

Quiet, introvert,  too stupidly naïve


They say some ties do not have a name

Was this one of those?

I am not so sure

Yet in lonely leisure when I muse over 

Those days...

Once I had got a second hand text book

With beautiful poems written at the back

Was it his?

He had said he had a passion for music

Did he ever sing a song with me in mind

That's stupid.....you know

We had never kissed

Or said "I love you"

That was too cliched

We never got that close

It was just a look, just a smile, just few words


I still remember the colour of his eyes

His walk and that quick side way glance

Making wordless poetry on a wet dusk

At the fag end of life

Decades later  

Shared with Poets and Storytellers United

Sunday, 23 July 2023


I was born on a long winter night
Mother must have laid cold and cramped
When the umbilical cord was being shorn
Father calculated the planetary position
And my horoscope was born
"She will bring back the lost glory"
Pronounced he and continued harping the Same  till I believed in it
I was just a small child

If by glory he meant the furniture
He had to sell off or the jewelry
My mother wore in her photos
He was somewhat correct
But if it indicated something beyond that 
I am not so sure

But I was tied to his words since the day
I could make some sense of my existence
The paths I took were too narrow, too wide,
Too steep, too crisscrossed
But I persevered
Because I was supposed to be the
Beacon of their life 

Bound by my image I tripped, I fell,
I persevered again so that I could tell
I have won, I have proven
The forecast made
When I had uttered the first cry of life
The destiny that was drawn out
And my journey that was charted 
Even before it began

"Masochist," my sister would say
"Vulnerable", I replied 
I pretended to be brave
When I felt the most shaken
I blazed with anger
When it hurt the most
Scarred when recognition
Came my way all too late

Yet I perpetuated the false hope
In the hope to be the glimmer of hope
In lives flustered by hopelessness

Yet on some moonless nights
Stepping over my own shadow
I wonder what life could have been
If I were not what I was culled out to be
Stronger, braver, lighter and perhaps happier?

Had life let me travel back in time
Would I have had the heart to desist,
"I am not what you make me out to be"
Let me just be the trailing shadow 
And walk in peace
Not the blazing torch you have 
Turned me out to be?

(*) It is customary in our culture to draw the horoscope of a newly born child as per exact time and place of birth. In olden times it entailed long mathematical calculations to derive the planetary position during birth time which would influence the life's journey of a person till death.

Monday, 10 July 2023

The Glass Ceiling

They said 
You have to taste the food first
I said I am no cat
If I die who will look after my family
That put a stop to the sordid dictum
Which had taken the shape of an ageless  convention


He said you should keep it under lock and key
The diary
With pencil entries
Some day you will find them erased
By the miscreants
The diary remained where it was
No miscreants ever touched


He said
You ask too many questions
There are some you should never raise
God knows where you will end up
Without a possible return 
I still probe 
Without any hope
Of getting a sane reply
My silence
They have not been able to buy


She said
Think over
One day you will be all alone
Without a soul to call your own
I do not till date resent
My decision
To be on my own
I enjoy what others have never done
Walking on broken glass

The boots lost in the storm
Steps bloody yet firm

Friday, 23 June 2023

The Midas Touch

Shared with Poets and Storyrellers United

Today's Prompt : The Poem should contain          Complete Name of the Poet's Favourite Book

If only I could turn
My life upside down
And yell, "Eureka"
Like Archimedes had done
"Why upside down?"
You may ask 
I'll reply to that
Just give me a while
A simple wish 
With logic of its own
If you care to mull over
You'll understand soon
When you empty your bin 
Or bag or case
Don't you place it upside down
To cleanse off all trace
Of the clutter inside
So do I want to declutter
My life so that I can
Dispose off the slushpile
And start afresh ... dream anew
Even if that never ever comes true
But alas! I am yet to find that one
Sorcerer's Stone
Which can do the trick
Turn the clock back soon
Let life play a jig on its axis 
But if you come upon
The angel who has it
Just whisper my name
To her and in a flash
See the magic wand
Swing in action
Moonwalking may you
Find me "beyond 
                the horizon 
 Like Michael Jackson

Wednesday, 21 June 2023


This week's prompt : 🏙️ City of Dreams 

I had thought at first
I wouldn't opt 
For this prompt 
But then on second thought
"What the heck let's move on..."
I don't have a favourite stop, as ye know
Coz am a reclusive vagabond 
From the days of yore
But my ever increasing lust 
Lingers longer than I want
As I eyed the labyrinthine
Gullies washed in sparkling blue
Again the wandering fever
Took over me
Just as I was going to get lost in the maze
The PC caught hold of me
And screamed, "How dare you haste"
Since then I am ogling over my dream
Of vanishing into the blue
But the screen won't slide apart
And engulf me unto