Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Dirty(?) Delhi Politics

'The funny side of this,
I frankly speak to you,  Miss,
Is us, ourselves, and most importantly I,
I tell you, really ( with a sigh),
'Tis I who's gone astray,
Not he, or she, or they, 
My sole motive, I've forgotten,
My choice, if seen from the past, is rotten,
My hands I've shaken with those,
Those enemies, who'll now be close.'
His foes now his friends,
It seems he's following some new, cool trends,
The little state he fought for,
Cannot be now a pretty place from folk-lore,
'Sir, you've made a tough decision, time'll its fate,
Whether stomach aches shall be got by this old meat you ate.'

( All about AAP leader )


Busy roads and crowded streets,
Have made the world with less feet.
Cutting down of trees,
Is making oxygen decrease.
The rivers are now trash,
Making the waves crash.
Allthe places filled with noise,
Oh God! Is this why we have a sweet voice?
Pollution in water and land,
Will we ever understand?

( my first poem)

Monday, December 23, 2013

Of Hills And Mountains

A lonesome peak, snowy white,
A tree or two, rest shining bright,
Four black specks skirting their way by its side,
Two ahead, with their long stride,
And two falling behind.
No care no worries, just the goal in mind,
Fiery man and fiery nature, they bind,
Black among the green and white,
A sure spectacle, a sure sight,
With each trudging face, bright.
Mother, Father, Son, and Daughter,
Together on this quest, hardly any bother,
God's will, and their will,
All merged, in the right fill,
Going on, till their goal they fulfil.
A lonesome peak, snowy white,
A tree or two, rest shining bright,
Four black specks skirting their way by its side,
Two ahead, with their long stride,
And two falling behind.

(Thoughts after a family hike in Manali)

Wednesday, December 18, 2013


It was you who taught me, oh yes,
It was you, no less,
It were your meaningless quarrels and fights,
And your pillow fighting nights,
That I remember as worthy today,
And not the bookish lessons, nay.
You taught me life, brother,
A carefree and easy one, no other,
Living is life, not monotony,
I remember each word of yours, sarcastic or funny,
You're my brother, after all,
I dislike praising you, but can't ever see you fall.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Pampering Politics

Let me introduce our petty politicians-A, B, C, D and E,
Daren't you call any silly.
Dear A is a fan of circles, goes round and round,
'He is grieved', says B on his ground.
'He lost the elections, poor fellow,
What has he become, because of his sorrow.'
C, on the other hand, is on cloud nine,
'Thank you very much, all is fine.'
He's found a seat, inches too big for him,
But then, it'll fill (with secret stuff) at his whim.
Poor D is still on the streets, oh God!
'The elections aren't over, my lord.'
He's sweeping the streets he wishes to own,
Roaming in lanes he wished not to roam.
E is best situated, really,
And though this (not he) may be silly,
He owns a state (thank you, voters),
With bought supporters.
This was A, B, C, D and E, and their mournful, glorious state,
But then in politics, this was to be their fate.

Friday, November 1, 2013

One Sad Diwali..

I woke up today, to find,
Another day had been left behind.
Lo and behold, today was no mere day,
Today was the festival of lights, or so to say.
A sudden flash of excitement went through me,
A sort of fitful glee.
I was to see my father again,
And I was full of joy, for the same.
I jumped out of bed, rather sprang up,
And saw on the table, an expectant milk cup.
With one gulp, I drank it whole,
Though I detest it, body and soul.
Then off I rushed to bathe and dress,
And soon emerged tidy, after the earlier mess.
To help her out, I went to mum,
And found that she did need some.
Heaps of sweets, to be made today,
Before the upcoming fun and play.
Laddoos by the dozen, good God!
And barfis too, oh lord!
Rather free by noon,
I set myself soon,
In finding and cleaning the diyas and lamps,
Kept under the album filled with stamps.
I loitered around till puja time,
Knowing that papa will be home by the 10 o'clock chime.
We continued the puja itself,
Praying to Lakshmi, who ornamented a high shelf.
Then to and fro, and here and there,
Now there, now here,
We ran about with candles in hand,
Lighting the walls that otherwise stood bland.
'Crackers now!' my brother shrieked,
As the moon creeped
Up, to bask in the town's light,
Light that shone bright in the night.
Sparkles and explosions followed next,
Which each child enjoys best.
A spell that enchanted brother and sister alike,
Pure bliss before a shocking strike.
Baba called us in, the T.V. chattering on,
Gosh! something had gone terribly wrong.
A bus had fallen into a river,
I involuntarily shivered.
With papa first in mind, I paid rapid attention,
Each confirmed guess increased my tension.
Was it papa's bus, I thought with fear, anxiety and worry,
Though I thought too that I made conclusions in a hurry.
But that nod from grandpa,
The sad expression on grandma,
God, oh God! Could it be?
Have I truly lost a part of me?
Father, dear father,
Why did you move farther?
Diwali meant happiness, so you'd say,
Then why choose to leave this very day?
I got no chance to say goodbye,
Sorrow drove as his promise of his return turned to a lie,
I miss him, I always will.
Darn it, Life's not all uphill.
Diwali or not, it wasn't just another day,
They said today, evil was at bay,
But what else, other than evil, can I call,
A day that stole my father, once and for all.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

A book

A book is a teacher,
Respect it.
A book is a friend,
Love it.
A book is precious,
Treasure it.
A book is another life,
Live it.
A book is a book,
Read it!

Tuesday, October 29, 2013


When and where?
How and why?
Now and here,
Hear the cry.
Why, just why?
Why the cry?
Oh there she lies,
Cold inside.
They came at their leisure,
For only their pleasure,
She fell a victim,
To them, to him.
One, she knew,
Thought to be good and true,
All was a lie,
She thought with a sigh.
And there she lies,
Cold inside.
Horror flashed again,
And so did her pain,
She was alone, then why,
Did she find herself cry?
Horror, oh horror, oh horror,
Or to be called terror?
But then, what to do now?
So she lied low.
And there she lies.
Cold inside,
For someone to find and know.

( impacts on my mind after the Nirbhaya case)

Monday, October 21, 2013

Mum and Dad ( On Their Anniversary )

The first time he said "I love you",
Your reaction was -"How dare you?".
Now 17 years, you've lived together,
How did this come to?
However it may have been, I do not care,
For I'm assured it is there.
You love each other, and that satisfies me,
But then, why shouldn't satisfaction be?
We are a family, happily living together,
Bond by blood, forever.
Together, united, and happy, thats what matters most,
And we do have these, than why anything else to host?
We keep moving on, going on,
For we take our, and your, love along

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Article: Gods; just a literary device called personification

Religion is a faith which embeds us into a belief of the supernatural and other-worldly stuff. All who consider themselves atheists forget, or perhaps neglect acknowledging what gods truly are. They are not a few beings with extraordinary traits, nor are asuras pure evil. They are, perhaps, only personifications. To make this clear, think of Saraswati Mata. Is she not a personification of knowledge? Does not her every quality describe knowledge, nay wisdom? Is not Lakshmi wealth? Are not the demon's daughters personified temptations? Are not the devils themselves representing evils like pride, and vanity, and destruction, and turmoil? Indeed, most of these deities we worship are just virtues which the ancient sages indirectly conveyed. Now, perhaps, we can really consider that worshipping God is not staying day in and day out in the puja room, rather following the traits and the virtues they represent. The gods of worship are really men and women, the only difference between them and us is that they're idols of singular, or multiple good qualities. It is not the disbelievers of God which are atheists, the ones that believe, yet lack the merits qualify to be atheists.

The contrasting sides

What a view it sure is for an on-looker now,
 When an unseen line divides two contrasting pictures,
One side is dark, with a gloomy brow,
The other lighted up by the lighting fixtures.
And the parts of a whole divided up here,
Where an insect orchestra cheers them up to a fight,
And though the spectators cannot bear,
They (the sides) pretend to show their might.
Why can't they balance each other,
The way nature intends them to be,
Why has one to rule over the other,
There shouldn't be a difference, why can't they see.
Gloomy and dark, needs only to brighten,
And the bright light needs to lessen.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

She Awaits

By the dim candle, she sat past midnight,
The window open, out there was her unsteady gaze, then left, now right.
The moor stretched far and wide,
To seem dark and gloomy, hard it tried.
Alas! Such a starry night as it was,
And this unsteady wait for whom she called hers,
Could turn gloom to glee,
And may all joy from this world flee,
The smiles of hers would ever be,
For 'I shall come tonight' had said he.
The night was sinking, she feared,
It seemed that dawn neared.
She sat still though, undaunted,
Agitation on the novelty she flaunted.
It crept to her that the clock struck three,
But soon forgotten, for she saw he.
With haste did she descend the stairway,
And then fast they rode in the summery night of May.
That day, she left her childhood dwellings,
Not to count thousands in her lover's shillings,
But to be with whom she vowed to love eternally,
For whom she sacrificed all that she loved dearly.
Whether she did wrong or right, Let your own self decide,
For eternally in his heart at least, she did reside.


200 years, we've waited long,
200 years, we've been silenced,
200 years the British grew too strong,
200 years ago their wrath commenced.
Today the tricolour flag shall hoist high,
Today the past glory shall slowly revive,
Today in our hands, our power will lie,
Today we shall again strive.
We are now a nation rebuilt
We shall soon be a stronger power,
We are ones, who were built,
We were built by ones who dare not cower.
And this will write our story,
And from today we shan't be smaller
And our struggle will be our glory,
And from this day, each Indian will stand taller.
This is the new India reborn,
This is the struggle of a land for long, torn.

Saturday, August 10, 2013


She sat there, struck,
No smile, oh she hadn't the luck,
No tears, too much in shock,
Eyes glaring, hands clutching a rock.
'Twas her only defense,
For now, no one lived, who'd counter the offense.
Ay, now an orphan indeed,
People, what led thee, to this deed?
She is, but a young lass,
A poor one, one of the mass.
Deprived anyways of the luxuries of the rich,
Apt to neglect the worst glitch.
Must her dark world be darkened by a dark past,
She has now seen grave misdoings, their impressions shall last.
Why must her tender heart be shown cruelty,
Why now, must she witness individuality?
Whoever you are, the slayer of her beloved,
Wasn't there compassion that could have moved,
The stone heart of yours to something minutely better,
She too should have died, you should have let her.
What shall she be,
When there is no one to lift her, neither 'she', nor 'he'.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Death Wave

Science, technology, the world knows what you wish us to say,
Technology is the future, the deity of our worship and pray.
You wish and deserve praise right now,
Sorry, but you have only focused on the 'How?'
Pray, ask yourself 'What If's and 'If's,
You run along, pray do notice the cliffs,
The world has long heard, good and evil are the sides of the same coin, and if true,
Learn that you may have evil too.
This world is hung on a fragile thread,
Do play with it, if you wish to be dead.
Listen do listen! The death wave is bound to strike,
It's the sheer fall, after the hike.
Tell, if you are to continue in the same way,
Then we'd be sure to die now, then to stay.
We are cowards, we can't bear to see our own world fall,
When we ourselves, chose its fall.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

My Words, My Lines

The rain, the cloudy sky,
The green, the brimming river flowing by,
The mountains, the whispering wind,
The sounds that lessened.
The concrete jungle, oh where am I?
The birds so quiet, the beasts no longer sigh.
Is this how I should enjoy nature?
Where is her unaffectedness, her stature?
Her serenity, her real self?
I am not sorry, what she did herself,
The wrath of hers is our folly reversed,
What is her sin, for which she is cursed?
I write what I behold, not fantasy, the real deal,
The destruction, the love we peel.
Soon, we shall be left devoid,
What is there, to fill the void?
Nature is nothing, concern long forgotten,
The 'Save Nature' methods outdated and rotten.
Look back, or peek into the future,
Your eyes shall behold, what your actions longed it to be,
Content you shall be when this gift is not to be,
For then there shall be no existence, neither you nor me.

Like A Sapling

I said as a seed, why am I so minute,
I try and try, till I display my shoot,
I wish not to boast, but my little figure has a mind of its own,
As I grow into a sapling, Hoping to be fully grown.
Like the little buds that unfurl,
And every emerging leaf from a curl.
I wish to spread out, Touch others' hearts,
I wish to grow, like plant parts,
And with full glamour, I show my first bud,
The first fruit of my toil and blood.
Then those delicate petals unwrap,
Like a bow atop a gift, a feather in its cap,
A beauty to behold, of splendor and pride,
But soon, withdraws the tide.
And till next time, I wait again,
For though the tide falls, later it gains,
With every branch, every leaf,
I feel a new something growing in me.
I started as a proud seed,
and ended as  humble tree that shall unknowingly lead,
I wish my future, like a tree,
My life noble and respected and free.

I Wish In Me

I wish to succeed, I wish to be the best,
I have my goal set, I know my quest.
There shall be ups and downs and dangers a lot,
Pray none is worse than I could have thought.
I fear, but I shall not let worry prevail,
I have my path set, I know my trail.
I have nothing to lose, as God and I walk abreast,
Life has tough lessons, and I am the kid giving the test.
I have faith in me, the Almighty is with me,
I shall be strong and shall be right, and success shall be,
I wish to shine, I will stand out, as I show the best in me.

Dear History

Dear History, you're so interesting, confusing and muddling, I don't know where to begin,
And oh as much confusing is the end.
I try to make things correct.
but somehow Nehru becomes a dictator,
Louis XVI becomes a protestor.
Martin Luther King was defeated in Waterloo,
Gandhiji cooked and loved spicy stew.
Napoleon rose to power as a military ruler,
( Nothing in this poem could be truly truer).
Oh History! Keep fascinating me!  I shall love to muddle up,
For from my mistakes, I learn to move up.


Oh dear pretty moon! Why are you so shy?
Don't hide away in those reckless clouds, come out and play.
Don't cower down, let those wings fly,
The night so awaits you, after day.
Do be a dear, shine away,
Let those frisky wooly lambs wander.
The world so awaits you, each day,
Come today, be round and full, or slender and tender.
Look how the kids smile when they see you,
They beg for you when they don't.
Show yourself, take the clue,
Now give us a smile, or the kids won't.
Oh dear pretty moon! Why are you so shy?
Don't hide away in those reckless clouds, come out and play.
Don't cower down, let those wings fly,
The night so awaits you, after day.

Making Of A Masterpiece

The crinkly pages stiffened, the curly edges straightened,
The meaningful words flattered, as the lines lengthened.
The words described joy, sorrow, hatred and love,
The violence of a fire, the peace of a dove.
A genius at work, with his companion,
Scribbling about the agility of a prized stallion.
The crinkly pages stiffened, the curly edges straightened,
The meaningful words flattered, as the lines lengthened.
The pen flew with endless thoughts and expressions,
How people faced stress and depressions.
Word swung in the lamplight,
As Twilight turned to the darkest night.
The crinkly pages stiffened, the curly edges straightened,
The meaningful words flattered, as the lines lengthened.


Oh, look! The sun dance on those pretty hills,
Oh, look at the hills' folds and frills!
Sit and enjoy, this God's haven,
Feel free to soar the skies, be a raven.
Be in the laps where God kisses the earth,
Run wild, climb high be in mirth.
Follow your desires, come to Himachal, God's abode,
Come as the secrets of life decode.
Where rivers tumble, the snow glistens,
The water speaks, the peak listens.
The flowers nod, the eagles glide,
The hills smile, where Gods reside.
Be in the laps where God kisses the earth,
Run wild, climb high be in mirth.
Follow your desires, come to Himachal, God's abode,
Come as the secrets of life decode.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Ruins Of Memories

I stood at the door of the place,
A tear rolling dow my face.

I walked through the age-old building no more,

Sadly remembering the memories it bore.
It was a sweet little room,
Filled with vibrant colours in bloom.
It scented of rose and flower,
It was my castle, my princess tower.
The ruins saw events bot great and small,
The present being the most tragic of all.
For now, my little building bore,
the weight o being no more.
So there I stood, at the door of my place,
A tear rolling down my face.