She was seven when she walked into the twenty-two yards. The hefty bat at variance with her petite frame. They traded the sport with a coy doll and told her that it wasn’t meant for her at all. A girl who loved numbers wasn’t a norm you see, So, she was happily married to … Continue reading A World Within Her!
The happiest journeys are ironically homeward bound. There’s hurry in flight and a nervous spark. Like a million flitters of long-lost lovers, there’s hope for a tryst with the past. But those who return to the base are never the ones who flew off on another day. Their palms crisscrossed with lines of fate … Continue reading Homeward Bound
Last night You leave me hurt, bruised. My soul where you pricked last time, scraped once again. The gash deeper deeper deeper. This morning you bring the balm to soothe my arm. But the soul is scraped deeper deeper deeper. The balm fruitless. But you insist and cuddle the wound. It looks cured. Looks... The … Continue reading Scraped
This poem was composed in the year 2013, after the unethical killing of Sushmita Banerjee, the inhuman rape and murder of Nirbhaya and the ruthless body shaming of Marion Bartoli. The piece was written to show solidarity with women world over and to lend my voice for the greater cause of women rights. I had … Continue reading Every Woman is Me
There were some yellow stains on his shirt. She couldn't get them away, The detergent didn't help much She tried, anyway. "They" saw the yellow stains, Nothing could be worse! His "honour" was at stake Couldn't she have rubbed enough? Those yellow stains would stay As long as she chose her way, With her life … Continue reading Yellow Stains
Hey! You... The lady with the most unkempt hair Did you just brush off layers from those medallions up there? I'm talking to you.... My lady...with the most unkempt hair. Can you put aside your ladle for a little while and lend me an ear... A stolen moment... What? Don’t tell me now that the … Continue reading The Lady with the most Unkempt Hair
Like an old habit that dies hard Yesterday hangs on. Standing in the doorway It tugs at my heartstrings. Spins a pale green yarn to keep me snug when winter sets in. Dissolves like saccharin in a cup of sugarless tea, and tempts me with its simplicity. Pulls out half a poem written in spring … Continue reading Yesterday