Teenage Love

She walked away in sadness from him…
Years later she still never knew
If his feelings were for real?
Was his love ever true?
She looked at old photos of togetherness,
She smiled at the funny faces and familiar places.
Did this really happen?
Did he just walk away like there was nothing?
She read the lines he had written all over again.
She remembers her heart breaking seeing him from a distance with other lovers…
He didn’t see her love…
He didn’t hear the words she had spoken…
He never felt the same way she did…
He had just walked away for he loved himself a little more…
For he had waited for her a long time;
He had hoped she would see
The way he yearned for her from the start
Yet she had played with his heart…
She never saw how her teasing ways broke his heart a long time ago
So now he must walk away leaving behind
a relationship that was never really there…
and embalmed in memories of youth it had faded.
He must go on as must she.
they both loved each other but at different times…
both needed to move away so they could learn to love again.


A Prayer



May we all take a moment to appreciate

how delicate and how fragile life really is…

May we lay down in bed tonight

Knowing how blessed we truly are to be alive…

May we appreciate the beauty of every passing moment

for we know not if this could be our last. 

Where is the love?

Love was ripped out from the heart of a 6 year old;

She lives in fear of everyone apart from her parents…

Will anyone really convince her that there are good people out there?

Love was erased from the bosom of a believer;

As he lays spread in little pieces over a large area…

Will you ever know if he got to the promised land?

Love  was taken away from the arms of a bride

Her groom far away fighting a fierce war…

His boxed body makes her wonder who’s war is it really?

Love was bartered from a young man 

He’s forced to tie the knot to save his family’s honour…

Will they ever know that he can’t love a woman so?

Love was burned alive from two hearts

The elders said they didn’t believe in the same God…

Didn’t these elders a while ago preach with a certain gusto

that there was God within us all? 

Where is the love? 

Where has the kindness gone?

When was killing children not wrong?

Where is the Love?

Where is good sense disappearing?

For the sake of power, now humanity is suffering.



my brother.

He sat quietly watching the flames consume the lifeless body. He helped collect the ashes and bones along with few other men. 

His usual gregarious and jovial self quietened by the solemn moment in front of his eyes.

What was once filled with life, with blood rushing through its veins now being burned to ashes that’ll be offered to the river to be carried away to the mighty Bay of Bengal hopefully. 

He who has seen many deaths and brutality in his life finds the preparation of the funeral pyre most humbling. Its a reminder that we are all destined to die one day and our bodies will be laid on a pyre. Its a reminder to him that this place is where he too will be reduced to the elements. He jokes to the others to put lots of kerosene and dry wood when its his turn and they retort not to worry for the fat ones burn quickly. The thin ones take time. It makes them laugh for a while.

He knows that the men who work at the ‘burning ghat’ will linger till the fire is finally out and the body reduced to ashes. The men share a drink as they wait. Their status alleviated in his eyes as he acknowledges their importance in this ritual. The ashes will be put inside an urn and handed to the immediate family so that the ritual may be completed.

He smiles at the frivolity of the occasional ignorance of our mortality and wonders if others can see the questions in his eyes. 

He returns home to find his family waiting for him so that they can have dinner together and call it a night. He is back to his usual jovial demeanour and plays with his children.

As the evening passes, his mind still wanders to the wonders of our existence. His heart still replaying the events of the last few days. 

Cup of life

Overflowing from the seams

and flowing over the edges,

The cup of life fills up in the quietest moments

when nobody’s watching.

Ready to drown

ready to overtake

but never nearly getting there;

For in that fleeting moment of despair

Life will pull you right out again

and there you are at it again… filling it up again

till life is finally over with you. 

Day 17 : Phantasma


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We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

Today’s twist: Write this post in a distinct style from your own.

“I’m walking down the pavement towards the bus stop. Its a rainy day which means I really shouldn’t have bothered to put on all this make up for work. By the time I reach work, my hair’s going to resemble a frizz ball too! Oh well…here comes the bus. That car’s a little bit too fast. Not a good idea on such a slippery road! Oh shiiiiitttt…that skid looks awful… the bus…watch out… the bus is swerving. Its heading towards the bus stop a bit too fast onto the pavement… Oh no… this wasn’t meant to happen…..

I wake up to the smell of bleach. Oh shucks why did I pass out… I’m late for work now! My manager isn’t going to be happy. But wait..wasnt I watching the bus heading towards the stop…AAAAHHH Whats that awful pain in my shoulder! Why can’t I touch my shoulder? My heads spinning too fast! Why can’t I touch my head either! Where’s my hand??? Where’s my… its covered in bandages or is that my hand at all? I hear a familiar voice telling me to breathe slowly… breathe breathe breathe at the count 1 2 3 4… I look up at the bewildered expression of m spouse. He’s fighting the tears I think. OH MY GOD… no right hand I can see??!!! I can’t see very well through the thick tears… I can’t see very well near the door of this white room either! He tells me don’t worry…it’ll be okay. we’ll be fine he says…is he telling me or himself I really can’t tell anymore…

I wake up this time acutely aware of the pain shooting up my spine. I try to scream but no voice comes splurging out! I look around but I don’t know where I am… Where am I? What’s going on? What’s with all the odd blue lighting? What’s that buzzing sound? I knew my right hand wasn’t there anymore so I reached out with my left and accidentally touched a hand!!!! I screamed a silent scream again only to see that the hand was mine… what!!! my hand is back! That horrid buzzing sound again… I can’t see the floor or a ceiling! Whats this place? Wires everywhere… man-made objects but no man or woman… I feel alone with my pain and my new hand! I close my eyes to make sense of it all amidst the fear welling up inside that I’m not alive perhaps…”

Thats the sum total of all the fears in one nightmare!

Serial Killer part 3 – day 16 : Lost and found


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A big festivals just around the corner. So it was that time again for a quick clutter clearing & maybe some cleaning too. The attic was about to burst at its seams and I probably needed to rearrange the furniture, change the light bulbs in the hallway, fix the staircase railing, start living my life the way I want to, etc. So I decided the attic was the best place to start.

The ladder was set up & I gingerly approached each step as I’ve had some interesting slips in the past. The attic had taken on some deep ennui with boxes & an old computer and some random pieces of furniture. Post lunch sluggishness was creeping into me but I just had to find this old single bed cover that had been gifted to me by my mother in law. It was a textile legacy no doubt – a Phulkari Chaddar embroidered brazenly in gold, orange & red silk threads. Definitely going to be the showstopper in the living room I thought.

After rummaging through a couple of boxes, I spotted the wooden, slightly broken chest. Aha that’s where it was! I was thankful that it had taken me less than an hour to locate it. Inside the chest amongst random letters, cards, some pebbles in a jar, a journal, lay the beautiful Chaddar slightly dishevelled but nothing a good dry in the sun couldn’t fix. Its part of the family legacy now as its probably about a 100 years old now.

Phulkari chaddar

Phulkari chaddar – a traditional hand embroidered fabric from Punjab (both India & Pakistan)


I had some time so I opened up the old journal as well. I felt a tug in my heart as I hadn’t read or written in that journal since May 2009! 5 years was a long time so I mustered up the courage to read the journal.

January 2009 was the first entry and it was my documentation of my pregnancy! I could feel the elation in my writing surge carelessly through me. Each month had something funny or sweet to share. I remember all of it vividly. It was all okay till I reached my last entry dated 8th May.
I wept as the devastating memory of the lost little one came crashing through. We lost her on 5th May due to a massive fibroid that had developed in my uterus alongside the foetus and it had pushed her out. Back then I had felt terribly sad that she had to go for no fault of hers. Shucks…why did I have to find the journal today but maybe it was necessary. I had to find it so that things could come a full circle. Today I feel like I need to honour her memory by not having any more weeping sessions. I feel blessed for the 5 beautiful months for they were undoubtedly beautiful and I’m blessed that today we have a 2 year old daughter who occupies my every waking thought.

I held the journal close to my heart for a while & then wrapped the chaddar around it and brought both back downstairs to the living room with me. They both had pride of place and it felt complete.