Tuesday, March 31, 2015

My Choice - A Spoof

This is a spoof
a copied format
hijacking my time line
Idea shared
over and over
has made me think
how I lived so long
without expressing
that I too had a reason to express
My choice
My body, My mind 
My choice
To read your long messages or not
My choice 
To heed to your sarcastic tone
Preachy and philosophical
They may nourish my mind or waste my time
I may comment, or like
or sleep over it
or even ignore it
my choice
You send me endless requests
to join various groups
to play boring games
without my consent
I play dead
my choice
Call me snob
call me insensitive
call me silly
I am the universe
Infinite in every direction
This is my choice

Thursday, March 19, 2015

I am in no Competition

I am in no competition 
I prefer standing alone 
Doing what I love 
At my own pace, 
Success will come 
Or maybe not,
But happy will I be
At the freedom
Cherished along the way

What do I care 
For the eyes
That blink at sunshine
But follow a star?

Happy I am
For the courage
to dance in the dark
to the rhythm of my soul
At the music of my heart

What do I care
For the lifeless medals
That shine on the shelf?

Happy I am
To wear a crown
of content and joy

Every time I finish
A difficult task.

Sunday, February 01, 2015

A Rejected Poet

She waited for her turn
to let the world hear her tune
Her well arranged notes
strung togather
The pieces of her emotions over
also accomplishments
She wanted to share her story in words that danced
on open-mike
Let the world know that
she too had
reason to perform
She waited
with closed fist
stretching her neck
above the crowd
The anchor too busy
floated on her own cloud
could not see the star
One by one
the poets came on dias
demading attention
with a song
with a prayer
with humor
with words
with actions
with expressions
Woo'ed the vibrant crowd
I heard her cheer every poet
snapping her fingers for every meaningful line
nodding her head with honest smile
But somewhere deep down
she hoped 
that she would be given chance 
to share her poem too
Once, the anchor did glance in her direction
"I will give you a chance if there is time"
Her hopes refreshed
Distracted by her enthusiasm
I felt her quiver
I too wished
She got her two minutes of fame
Even encouraged her
with a pat on her lap
"Your turn will come, you just wait"
As the evening wore on
disappointment veil her eyes
Her face dressed into with plastic smile
She discovered
that she was just an audience
invited to cheer the poets
A number to add to a crowd
to occupy a vacant chair
to buy expensive meals
to make the establishment rich
It was a business deal
The poets who performed
the actual acts
were truly the anchor's selected friends

Tuesday, January 27, 2015


She was desperately trying to fit in. Early morning she made tea for everyone in the room. She was slow but eager to help. With morning tea served, she began her rant about how unfair the life was, people suck, nobody gives a fuck.
Most of her conversation was a repeat of same story told differently, it went on non-stop, expecting an affirmation for every doubt. "You agree no?" she would say, waiting for a nod, before she continued.
Nobody in the room was listening. Everybody went about completing his or her task (folding clothes, preparing for their morning bath, shaving)
It was difficult to agree with her every logic (or illogical) statement.
I saw her, one evening, sitting all alone in the room, mumbling to self.
"Why didn't you go for a walk with your friends" I asked.
She didn't know. Her friends had not asked her and had sneaked out of the room without inviting her.
Initially, all women (a group of ten) who had come for the camp; met at every meal and even went out together but gradually, as the days passed, the groups were getting smaller (in two's, three's and four's). The chains became smaller and stronger. I saw her bouncing from one group to another, finding a loop, not really belonging to any.
On the day, I was not feeling too well; I had decided to be on my own, maybe read a book.
She was only too happy to find me in the room.
"What is your horoscope sign?" she asked
"Cancer" I said getting interested.
She began to talk about horoscope in great details, the same things that I had heard her talk during lunchtime with other set of friends. The character analysis went on for full thirty minutes, with me nodding my head every time she said, "Isn't it?"
My head was beginning to ache.
"Would you like to play cards?" I said trying to divert her attention.
She agreed and we sat to separate the pack of cards..(extract one pack from the mixed stack)
The conversation did not stop.
"Do you like Ms K?" she asked.
A fresh rant began about how Ms K was insensitive and selfish.
‘Concentrate, concentrate” the words somersaulted in my head, begging me not to be rude.
Lonely people need audience or were it that boring people seldom had audience.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Those Lonely Nights

You would think
she withered in pain 
on those lonely nights
But freedom she relished
her space
Thoughts stretched
to crazy heights
She travelled thousand miles
buried in books
living life in dream
relishing each momen
in harmony 
complete with self

You would think
she could die
of boredom
on those lonely nights

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

A New Beginning

The End.
Comes in our life many times
We begin to understand things and decide to change our path. 
We leave behind the memories of moments that broke our heart 
We begin to love again. 
Time moves on..
Time doesn't stop
Time doesnt fly away to distant land.
Time stays,
Reminding us of what we gained
What we lost
Leaving behind a trail
Linking us to the life lessons
We record everyday.
We move on
Each year making new resolutions
Hoping the future will be better
We live differently
With new horizon
With new mindset
But destiny decides
Moments slipping through our fingers
We follow the path,
Towards light of knowledge and hope,
Knowing not where it leads
We arrive
To another dead end
Once more
We choose a goal
To find happiness
To walk on new path again

Monday, December 29, 2014

Gloomy Day

Even though she didnt work in their house anymore, her eyes glistened with tears when she learnt about his death. She immediately rushed to their house to confirm. 

The children, now adults themselves, gave her a hug and started to share the pictures of their family. She waited eagerly to know the cause of death but it was too painful to discuss. 

Seventeen years she had worked for the family..had known all the secrets..their sufferings and their accomplishments..but today, while they waited for the last rites, all they could tell her was about the one month old baby, his first grandchild, and how she had brightened his last days of his life....

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