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The Love of My Life

Engulfed in it.

Like a child,

Trapped in a building,

On fire.



And then comes a point,

When the cries,

Fail to come out.



The breath rescinds.

And ultimately,

The child dies.

The remains,

That they cry over,

For hours,


And months.

Those remains,

Know nothing,

But of the liberation,

Of being breathless.

Being dead.


Oh dear, death!

I yearn for you.

I am waiting.

You take those,

Who hate you.

But the ones,

Who are ready to embrace,

Your tranquility,

You ignore them.

Why dear?

Why this injustice?

Why not give my soul,

The peace,

The vacuum,

The seclusion,

It is waiting for?

My remains,

Will lie,

In a bed full of flowers.

My soul,

For once,

Will be happy!

My mind,

Will be free of thoughts.

Thoughts, that killed me.

That took me away,

From everybody.

Take me.

Take me away.

Where you live.

A secluded place.

Where nobody expects,

Nobody betrays.

Dear death,

Give me this gift.

And I’ll shall forever,

Be your slave.



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The sweet odour of roses

In hues of scarlet and cerise

Approved by the herd

For her it was unheard.

Lillies and their charm

Their beauty filled the whole farm

Long ombré petals

In their serenity she revels.

Lillies loved the care

With her they made a wonderful pair

The hues of orange, yellow and pinks

With joy, made her eyes blink.

They thought of her as a lunatic

Partly, because she’s always been a sidekick

And then she started comparing

The beauty of Lillies with the mighty roses.

There were questions and doubts

How on earth do her Lillies flout

The age old norms of roses

Being the best among all.

She sank deep into a jungle

Forgot the ethics to mingle

With the roses lovers

Her Lillies brutally murdered.


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Illusionary Fall

As I tread,


Into the woods,

Hazy night,


Stars shining bright.

I see a squirrel,

Prancing down the bushes.

The carefree manoeuver,

The glee in its eyes.

All seemed unnatural,

In that nature’s paradise.

I walk closer,

Curiosity deepening in my mind.

As I reach for it,

I fall into a dark pit.

At first,

It was scarier than I thought.

But as I feel deeper,

It was freedom,

That engulfed my dreary heart.

I, for once,

Wasn’t complaining.

The fall, as it may seem,

Was a much awaited liberation.

I fell deep,

Deeper than it appeared.

And reached a moist spot.

I saw my own reflection.

I saw,

Beauty all around.

What is this place?

I thought.


I forgot of the mighty fall.

Lilies, lotuses, roses,

And what not!

I couldn’t believe,

My luck. Oh God!

And the beauty,

The peace,

That I yearned for.

I could see it in the dark pit.

I experienced it,

Because of the fall!


H ❤️

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You rise,

And fall,

And still go on.


You care,

You cry,

And still  manage to love.


You are power,

You are life.

But still treated as a mice.


The  beauty within,

Is unimaginable.

But still,

Your silhouette is what they savor.


You are the creator.

And the nurturer.

But your chains,

They tell a different story.


You are blamed.

You are tamed.

You are a prisoner,

In the hands of your creation.


They cheat,

They sly,

They rip off your mind.

And still,

With every single vein,

In your body,

Burning in flames.

You rise.

Rise like a Phoenix.

With love ever-flowing.


Oh! My love.

How? How on Earth?

How do you manage?

To be so forgiving?


They burnt you alive.

Threw you on a live pyre. 

Your own blood.

It just kept quiet…


You were draped.

In silks and cotton.

In long flowing skirts.

Hoping to shut your soul,

To a world full of potential.


Break this glass of illusion.

My dear.

Break it.

Let them typecast you.

Let them keep you in a cage.


You spread your wings.

Your beautiful, white hued wings.

And break free.

To reach the skies.

Skies full of your dreams.


Be your own creation.

And not the creator, 

Of ruthless dictators.

Who betray,


And leave you in abyss.


You are the creation.

Of a world,

That belongs to you.

And not the puppeteers,

That you created.


You are,






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Sorry That I Failed You

Even the tears,

The ever flowing tears,

Have dried on my face,

Leaving indelible marks.


The pain in my heart,

Which evoked once,

Has gotten into my conscience,

I cry, I cry.


Oh! My Rohingya brothers,

My beautiful sisters,

And our innocent children,

I am sorry that I failed you.


They left you floating,

In lakes and rivers,


I could see you all helpless,

But all I could do was nothing..


Your feet bled,

Whilst you crossed the barbed wires,

Their gunshots piercing through your body,

Your cries, oh! your helpless cries.

I am deeply sorry, I failed you…


For days,

Your belly was without food,

Families lost,

Some completely washed,

In the Bay of Bengal.

I am sorry that I failed you.


Dear son, how we rejoiced,

The first day of your school,

Never a thought crossed our mind,

That it will be your death pool!


He stabbed you once,

He stabbed you twice,

I failed you little munchkin,

I silenced your beautiful voice.


They shot an ideology,

They shot her voice.

Dear Gauri Lankesh,

But why are you still alive?


Their only aim was,

To bury your alighted mind,

But little did they know,

They’ve alighted millions of lives.


Who are they?

Cut from the same cloth, right?

Members of the same family.

But lagging in foresight?


This world has enough pain,

Enough souls who are suffering.

Please stop adding to that number.

Please, enough with the plundering..


And all I can ask,

Is for your forgiveness.

It is my utterly shameless silence,

That has created a world so VICIOUS.


Asking for forgiveness,

H ❤️

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Sorry Neighbor.


If I may,


I have been,

A devil in disguise.


Oh what ‘Aman ki Asha’?

What peace,

If I may ask?

My fellow countrymen,

A fallacy in which they bask..


I have killed love,


and every beautiful feeling.

I know hate,


And why would I even conceal it?


Forget about a country,

Forget about a state.

The street that I live in,

There are many people I hate.


I may,

If I want to,

Wear a mask of love.

But really I’m a villain,

Benevolence, I don’t speak of!


And why,

Why on earth will I be ashamed?

And critical of myself?

Aren’t we all in this together?

How well we repel!


And teaching hatred,

To our kids.

Doesn’t sound so filthy.

“He did first, then I did”,

We find it healthy!


And isn’t this,

What’s going on?

From the past 70 years?

Blaming each other and all of the rest,

“Uh! The mistake is THEIRS!”. (always)


There are widows on both sides,

Childless parents,

And also orphans.

But who cares to budge, my dear,

We are totally okay with coffins!



We do shed a tear or two,

Whenever a soldier dies.

But the martyr can’t be yours,

‘Cause otherwise we will rejoice!


A fake motherland,

I like to worship,

With all my heart.

But only for a day or two,

Rest of the days I’m a total pervert!


Bring on,

The next 70 years now,

Shall we?

The nations we both so love,

Let’s turn ’em into a debris!




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Agony Of A Chopped Tree

I was planted,

Then I was watered.

I was taken care of,

With undying love.


The world was a sanctuary,

Full of nothing but merry,

Where I could rejoice,

And have my own voice.


Then I started to spring,

And heard a bell ring.

They are on their way!

But I can’t even run away!


“Who would come for my help?”

I couldn’t resist but yell.

The thumping of their feet,

Echoing a drumbeat.


Chop! Chop!

The first of my branches dropped..

Ruthless maneuvering I could see,

Nobody to help a feeble tree.


This went on,

For long.

I was in utter pain,

Alas! It was their reign.


I was told to serve others,

And in the process self-smother.

Their faces had grins,

While I was dying from within..


Who do I tell that I want to grow?

And not to become an art of Michelangelo.

Their craftsmanship would cut me into dices.

And they would all call me priceless!


My agony was their ecstasy,

And it was my only legacy.

To serve, I was nurtured,

In the end, brutally murdered..



H ❤️

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My Journal- Day 2

Today I came home early so I paid a visit to my nanaji. He was ecstatic to see me. And what really touched my heart was when he literally requested me to spend at least one hour with him on weekends.


Here I was, thinking, that nobody really needs me or feels happy around me and here I have, one of the most important persons in my life, begging me to come see him more often.


Life is, well, simple. Sometimes.


My co-workers detest me, to say the least. Every day I spend a good amount of time anticipating the reason why I am the most hated person at my workplace. And then there are some who brighten my day up and vice versa.


One thing struck my mind today. While ‘dealing’ with our fellow humans, we totally forget that they are humans! That they have complicated lives like us. That they go back to their deep, dark secrets and feel guilty. That they’ve been used. That they’ve been lied to. That they’ve been mistreated. That they’ve things they can’t really tell anybody.

And yet, we somehow, very easily indeed, blurt out harsh and mean words. And forget about being guilty about it afterwards.


Imagine a world, with clean air. Clean air. With no hate. No lies. A world that is painted in soft hues of pink and blue. With a tinge of greens and whites. Pastels all around. Happy people. Smiling at strangers. Youth helping the old. Clean air. Clean atmosphere.


Well, the chances are really bleak. But fantasies never hurt. Humans never hurt if treated properly.


What have we all become?




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The Mistake We All Make.

I’ve been apprehending the past couple of events and I can’t help but blame myself for everything that is wrong right now. I think it’s high time that you, too, should blame yourself for it.


‘The Mistake’ is our sympathy for the poor.


I want to put it straight. Stop showing sympathy for the poor. I may sound like a shrewd woman, but I’ve got my reasons.


Let’s go back to the days when we were young. Some of us didn’t have a scooter, or even a bicycle. But today, each one of us owns a car. Big or small doesn’t matter. The point is, we all have worked hard, our parents have worked hard to give the luxuries that we have right now.


In my case, my father is a self-made man. He came from a remote village in Punjab and went on to become a prestigious banker that he is. He has earned respect and wealth in equal proportions. His father, my grandfather, also started from a scratch. He joined the army and went on to raise four wonderful kids who made him proud in the entire village.


Same goes for my mother. She has also worked hard her whole life in a job that she despises, but still works to give us a better life. Her father, my maternal grandfather, was the first one to move out of the village and went on to become a reputed government official. People still talk about his courage, wit and humanitarian deeds to date.


My point of shedding a light in my personal life is to enlighten us all that if these people have broken the norms prevailing in their societies and come out of a poverty-like life, then why can’t every poor in India do that?


I know my parents and grandparents aren’t the only ones to have written a successful saga of rags to riches. I know that in each lower middle-class, upper-middle class and the rich family, there is embedded a story that will inspire us all.


I once read about a statement given by former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan about giving something for free to the poor. He said,”One should not create a situation where people do not value it”. He was talking about the food subsidies in India.


A bitter incident took place in our family last month. My cousin sister was about to get married in a month. So, obviously, everybody was making arrangements for cash because there was a huge dearth of it due to demonetization. One of our maids who had worked in our home for like almost two years took away 24,000 rupees from the cupboard. We were unable to take any action because marriage was round the corner. After the wedding, my brother took her to the police and said to her that these are the same people who used to teach your kids, provide for their education and gave a lot of free stuff to you and this is what you did! Her simple reply was, “So what?!!”. I was astonished.


This is what proves the very point Kofi Annan made during his comments on the food subsidies. If we give everything that we, otherwise, pay for, for free to the poor, they just won’t value it. They will create a kind of feeling that they are entitled to get certain things for free. And hence, we kill the very urge for them to work hard to create a better future for themselves. We always make a hue and cry over the number of poor people that are present in this country.We always blame the government over not showing enough care for the poor. But, think for once, that if our parents or grandparents would’ve gotten the same facilities for free, would they have worked hard for it?


Feed the poor. Feed the hungry. That is the kind of help that they need. But anything beyond that, will turn disastrous.


I know there are people who really need our help. Like the orphans, or the differently-abled, or the aged. But showing sympathy to the poor and simply giving them money so that their present becomes better is just not okay! Let them work hard for it! This is the very reason that begging is a CRIME in India. Do not promote this kind of behavior.


Instead, create opportunities. Opportunities that can turn their lives around. Enlighten them. Create a fire in their hearts to really work for everything that they need.


This is the only way we can stop making ‘The Mistake’.





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Chronicles Of My Nana- 2

A day after my birthday, on September 17, he took me and my brother to a stationery shop to buy me gifts. I was a nerd and hence bought a cool Harry Potter exam cardboard and a few gel pens. I was in the seventh grade back then.


A year later, he took me to another stationery shop to buy me pens. We spent some half an hour there and in the end I bought an 8 rupees pen. He laughed at me saying that 8 rupees weren’t enough for the amount of hard work the shopkeeper put in to show me all kinds of pens.


He has the most childlike laugh. My nana, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. He has got a hearing problem, but that isn’t an obstacle to us having fun. He cracks the funniest of jokes and laughs loudly. Oh! How I miss seeing him laugh.


Now, all he does is, ask me whether he will ever be able to go on shopping with me. And he’s waiting most eagerly for our Diwali shopping ritual. We would go to Jawahar nagar camp and buy packs and packs of dry fruits, biscuit packing, diyas, candles and what not!! We would also go to Ghumar Mandi and scan the whole market for some good Diwali gifts. Today, he told  me that he’s gonna miss all those fun moments this time.


I remember the time I had to leave for Bangalore. During my last moments in Ludhiana, he was so anxious, sad and what not that he was moving swiftly, here and there, began making tea for all of us and spilled it all over the kitchen!! It was all haywire for him. It was like, two best friends are separating. The feeling was, well, devastating…


He has had two operations when I wasn’t with him. He’s been sick for almost three months now. Totally drained of his energy. But still, sometimes, when he smiles, it’s like everything is back to normal.


This Sunday, he was telling me the stories of Jawaharlal Nehru and Dr. Manmohan Singh. It feels good to listen to him when he talks with great enthusiasm. Though he has been sick for a really long time, he still knows about what Modi and his government is doing in Kashmir. He was comparing the policies of Nehru and Modi. I love having these short and meaningful discussions with him.


For almost two years, I would take him to the bank every month to withdraw his pension. He would walk into my room exactly at 9:30 a.m. and we would reach the bank by 9:45 a.m. irrespective of the fact that it opened at 10 a.m.


In 2015 when I was hospitalized, he would visit me everyday in the morning. He’s someone I love looking at. You know, how sometimes you’re at absolute peace, you feel tranquilized. That’s the exact feeling I get when I look at him. He emanates optimism, his face has a soothing effect. I have put my feelings into a lot of words, but I don’t think I can ever do justice to how he makes me feel.


I love sitting beside him. It takes away all the tiredness of the day. He’s my strength and my weakness. I have spent all my life with him. And I want to live my life the same way. He would come at 4 in the evening and I would make coffee for both of us. He would drink it and then say, “Coffee is more beneficial than tea.”. And he wouldn’t say it one time or two times. Each time we have had a cup of coffee, he would say the same sentence!!! And then we both would laugh.


People say they get bored at home. They’ve got nothing to do. Well, I feel the most entertained at home because of my crazy little family. My grandparents (nana-nani) are the world’s best entertainers. Each day I would go to their place and we three would chat for hours.


My life is complete. Because I have the love which people yearn for. I have my nana. I have my nani.


P.S.- Click here to read some more amazing stories about my nana 🙂



H ❤️