What you mean to me 

One more of my writes dedicated to the person whom I first followed on wordpress it’s you dear Asha

Who are you?
Despite being a writer, I’ve never written about you. So, today, I decided to give this a shot and give words to what I feel for you.
I think of what you mean to me. Are you just my love or my best friend too? 

Aren’t you the one who I owe most of my smiles to? Or the one from whom my tears don’t shy away?

 Are you not the one who pushes me to my best? Or the one who makes me not want to quit?
Every time I try to write about you, these questions don’t let me. I fall short of words while answering these. But, today I have an answer. An answer that’s probably meagre of what you are to me.

You are my sunshine.
No, not just the one that lights up my life.
You are the winter sunshine. The sunshine that warms me when the winter chill breaks through my window panes. 

You’re the sunshine that catches hold of my hand and takes me out to the nature’s beauty. The one that gives me solace.
My sunshine. My serendipity. That’s what you are.

Memories of most loved ones 

​You meet many people in your life that you come to love.

Some, you keep for a lifetime.

Most, you have to learn to live without.
They say, “There is an end to everything; to good things as well.”
When people leave, they take a part of us with themselves. 

They leave memories.

Some song, some place, some movie, some story, would always remind you of them and you’ll never be able to hear that song or see that movie or place or read that story without being affected.
And mostly, these will only bring you down. When you would want to move on with your life, erase the pain that comes with the knowledge that those people are no longer in your life; that one song or that one place wouldn’t let you do it. 

You would cry, whine and when someone else would come to fill the void that was left by the ones who’ve already left, you wouldn’t let them; just because one song, one movie made you hang on to the memories so tight, that you damaged yourself from the cuts left behind.
Not letting go of the memories only makes us dwell in a past that ceases to exist.

The only good thing that you can do for yourself is not let the beautiful song become a merciless torture; not let the wonderful place be reduced to nothing but a reminder of what you’ve lost.
Memories are beautiful. Don’t make them hideous. Dont let them take your future away. Tuck them exactly where they belong, exactly where they deserve to be – the past.
“Its a song. Don’t make it a monster.”

Birth of a poem 

​As I set my pen

To paper,

And thoughts flow through

My veins to the pen’s,

I wonder what colour

Will I bleed

On to the paper.
What colour would be

Of despair, of misery,

Or what colour would I bleed

To paint the colours of tranquility?

Or what must I do

To paint a mirage through my words,

Upon the hapless sheet that lay right in front of me.
This hapless white sheet,

Lying lifeless,

Like a widow robbed

Of its only will to live.

To love.

Do I bleed on it

To give it life?

One life transferred,

One life saved.
May I bleed 

Upon this ivory sheet of paper

And stain the widow

With my repugnant thoughts?

And speak with fervour 

Of my fierce soul and dreams,

Only to unearth the beautifully valiant

Woman under the veil

And let her cascade her fervour 

And set ablaze the over stretched horizons.
Rise, brave paper

With the words I fill 

In your soul,

For the night might be dark

And full of terrors,

But the day is when the

Demons hide

In plain sight.

Let me expel my demons

With this sword that is my pen

So that a battleground 

May erupt, on your surface.
So, be ready, brave paper,

The chastity of your soul

Is to be breached.

The sun will rise the same,

But the shadows won’t be alike,

The story won’t be the same.

But see through it, brave paper,

You always become a treasurable memoir.

It’s in you that a day never gets it’s closure,

Yet the tranquil stillness of dawn resides.
Sound the conch,

Rally the bannermen, 

And bring out the cavalry!

Two wars will be waged

Today, dear paper.

One on your body,

One in my mind.

And the victor will bleed out

On you.

And thus,

A poem shall be born.


​Hope, I think is a wonderful thing. And when people say they can’t find hope in this hopeless world, I feel nothing but pity for them.

Because I, very, very strongly believe that if you look around, hope is everywhere.

I find hope in the first rays of sunlight that makes its way through the little crack in my window every morning.

I find hope in the animals who are beaten, terrified and yet, struggle everyday to feed themselves and live.

Hope is in the pitch-black darkness that is lit by the presence of stars and moons; the simplicity of the beauty being absolutely breathtaking.

Hope is in the refugees who were forced to leave their own lands, and still refused to give up on their lives.

I find hope in the friendships that have lasted for very long, even after the difficulties and times of becoming too hard to bear with.

Hope is in the love-struck couple which has been married for 30 years, and still doesn’t complain of getting bored of each other.

Hope can be dangerous. 

It can make you yearn and wish and crave for something that might never happen; and then burn you down to ashes like the wild-fire that spares nothing.

Yes, it can be dangerous.

But, how can we complain, when it is the most beautiful thing in existence, too?

It lets us make through life when nothing seems right.

It is the thing that we hold on to for dear life when we have nothing left to clutch.

It lets us breathe when miseries of life suffocate us.

It lets us love when nothing but hatred crosses our way.

And most of all, it keeps us alive when death hovers too close.

Afterall, “If you keep hope alive; it will keep you alive.”

What you are to me

​Dedicated to the person whom I first followed on wordpress

You buried me, 

In your  thoughts and writings 

 you buried me,

Breathlessly you suffocate me in ur ink,

Your dripping pen caged me on,and on until I licked the last drop

Having trodden in the darkness you shunned light,

Having been on lonely

Pitched dark path many a time,

I soar with your liberation theology,

Victory song at the tunnel end!

Where letting go clashes with jubilation forever,

My small pen honor you….

Poets and writers  are gods,and you are rare amongst.


Some relations last a lifetime

Some relations last for a shorter period of time

Relations give us a feeling of joy and pleasure

Then come the circumstances where we have to separate

School days reach a finishing point

College days reach a finishing point

Time is reason for this which causes relations to move on

We come together for a reason for example school, college

We develop relations with friends and teachers

These relations are sweet but shortlasting.

It’s has always happened with us

The school and college send off ceremony is most memorable ,sweet and tearful

It’s last day of being together

The goodbyes are very painful and tearful

Sweet memories captured in form of photographs, writings and gifts

Memories flash back to give a mixed feelings of happiness and pain

I feel like meeting my old school, childhood and college friends once again

Dear Grandmother

​“for the all years i’ve known you,

you were always pale and wrinkled

with a hunched back

and thick brown glasses

white hair pulled back in a messy bun

a walking stick in one hand

the other holding mine.

the same calloused hands

they’ve seen it all,

you’ve been a part of it all 

from my one toothed smiles to my never ending tears

from my first steps to my first day of school

i wish you were there for my last one too.

your eyes always twinkled in recognition

whenever you saw my face

a toothless smile painted on your lips.

i still remember,

when you recounted stories

stories of destruction; stories of desolation

your journeys and your struggles

from blissful, beautiful farms

to war painted streets

with a crying baby cradled to your chest.

i wish,

i wish i could hear you tell them one last time

and in the end

when you finished with a dramatic flair

i’d clap and hold your hand

and tell you how much those stories mean to me

how they’re now carved into my very bones

and flow in my veins.

i’ll remember you today, tomorrow and even the day after that

and the day i’d recite the same stories to my children.

i’ll remember you,

i’ll remember your pale face and white hair

and that toothless smile,

that’s how i’ll remember you forever.”

I won’t forget this date 

​I lay awake on my back, staring at cracks in the ceiling. It’s 2:17am, and I’m still waiting for sleep to take over me. And it’s usually these times that you pop into my head, your beautiful eyes and shiny black hair, the thought of you still makes me smile. More than a year later, I admit I still wonder about you, try to answer my own questions- what could have been, what might have been, where did we go wrong, why did you give up. I never come to a conclusion.
I go through all my happy memories of you, of us, in my mind. It’s like a movie, a beautiful fairytale just like our love was, and only this time, I’m a spectator instead of the lead. It’s like a tribute, I’d like to believe. Maybe a memoir. And it always ends with a hope that you’re doing okay.
I shuffle, turn to my left where my phone brightly reflects today’s date. 27 Dec . I sigh, and close my eyes and answer my own question again. It would have been 5 years today.

Letter to my best friend 

I know your world is crumbling down, and I know that you don’t know what you’re doing, where you’re going in life. I know you never imagined yourself being here, in this position, in these circumstances, in this sort of situation, but it never happens the way any of us imagine it to be. Life happens. As much as we’d like them to be, people won’t be a constant.
People you never thought would leave left, and I while I can keep telling you it was for the better, in the end it all just hurts the same. It always hurts. But maybe we all need this once in our life, this eye opener that life won’t always be a ball of sunshine, and that people aren’t always who they say they are. Maybe we need this, to remind us to appreciate the happy times just a tad bit more, and learn that every thing, happiness and misery alike, is temporary.

I realise it’s been harsh for you, and my inability to make things better for you saddens me. You’re my best friend, and I believe your happiness, in some ways, is my responsibility. But I’ve run out of things to say, and your ears are tired of hearing the same things. But I promise you, my useless words, my crappy jokes and my tiny ears are always here for you. And with you, I’m waiting for the day, and i promise you that day will come, they get to witness something they haven’t in a while- you unapologetically happy.

Silent Christmas Carol 

​In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty winds moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like stone

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter, long ago
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and Earth shall flee away

When he comes to reign;

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable place sufficed

For Lord Jesus Christ