Month: September 2025

Teachers have many intriguing forms

In the life of a growing child

Their behaviour varies with their norms

Some are strict, while some are mild

 

Some are bold in inspiring confidence.

Some offer powerful, silent support.

In school life, which bond has more prudence

Than a student and a teacher’s rapport?

 

Despite the din of the class ruling mightily,

The teacher’s voice doesn’t fade;

A student or two sits as quietly

As a predator in a thick bush’s shade

 

My mind becomes alert with curiosity.

As a teacher explains concepts with zeal

I admire all teachers, for they fight adversity

With a heart of gold and nerves of steel

 

The teacher is a God in Indian culture

Yet they’re losing their societal respect

It’s time for our nation’s developing future

To think deeply, for they have much to introspect

I drift from the nest of my yesterday,
Where walls once whispered my name.
“Must you leave us?” they pleaded softly,
Soft hands of comfort tried to hold me,
Yet I longed for a brighter flame.

I traded the hush of familiar skies
For roads that echoed with the unknown.
“Do you know where you’re going?” they asked.
“Forward,” I whispered ; heart unarmed, yet fiercely burning,
Dreaming of a future to call my own.

I carried hope like a fragile lantern,
Through storms that silenced my song.
“Will this light be enough?” my spirit trembled.
Every step a bargain with the present,
Every joy I left felt wrong.

And when at last the horizon opened,
Gold crowned the towers I had built.
“You’ve arrived,” the world declared with pride,
But I touched the dream I bled to nurture,
And my soul lay heavy with guilt.

For what is triumph, if not borrowed,
From the tender hours I could not keep?
“Where are the voices you left behind?”
The laughter I left, the love I buried,
Now haunt my victories in sleep.

I fled my home to shape tomorrow.
“Did tomorrow welcome you?” they asked.
I lowered my eyes and could only whisper,
“Tomorrow was never mine to claim ;
I traded my present for shadows of time.”

As I see the scenery in front of my eyes,
All that I loved now haunts these silent hills,”
I stare into the hollow,
A silence deeper than the mountains,
A shadow heavier than the skies.

The wind asks me questions I cannot answer,
The trees whisper names I once knew.
“I traded warmth for dreams, only to find joy left behind,”
I reach for the echoes of laughter,
But only the hollow reaches back too.

As the setting unfolds before my eyes,
I gaze into the void, time sliding form my hands
The echoes of the lost whispers creep back,
Behold ! Now I see I have wandered into a future
That was never meant to be mine.

They flicker like half-remembered dreams—

those quiet windows

that carry the scent of a thousand yesterdays,

still warm, still waiting.

 

Not quite light,

not quite shadow—

just that space in between

where nothing is said,

but everything is heard.

 

There are rooms behind them.

Locked.

Flooded.

Carved with names no one speaks aloud anymore.

A father who didn’t stay.

A friend who did—

and maybe shouldn’t have.

Moments that curled into corners,

too tender to touch.

Too real to forget.

 

Some carry storms

so still,

you’d think peace lived there—

until you notice

how carefully the quiet is placed,

like glass on a fault line.

 

And then there are those

that hold entire lifetimes in a single glance.

Not stories—

but fragments.

A breath caught in the throat of childhood.

A question never answered.

A goodbye that never learned

how to say itself out loud.

 

They look at the world

as if it might disappear

if stared at too long.

As if joy is a myth

written in another tongue.

As if they’ve learned

that nothing beautiful

stays.

 

Some shimmer when spoken to softly,

not because they believe it—

but because they want to.

Hope, for them,

is a borrowed coat in winter.

Warm,

but never theirs to keep.

 

They do not weep.

They ache.

Silently.

With the elegance of porcelain

that knows its own cracks

by heart.

 

And when they close—

it is not sleep.

It is retreat.

A quiet folding inward,

where the soul goes to remember

who it was

before it had to become so careful.

 

These are not just eyes.

They are archives.

Unsung hymns,

shards of every version of self

that dared to feel too deeply.

They do not look—

they remember.

 

No need to name them.

You’ve seen them.

Felt them.

Maybe you are them—

walking through the world

with everything unsaid

pressed gently

behind the glass.

They asked me to be the sky—  

But only the part they liked.  

The soft, well-behaved, morning blue,  

No storms, no stars, no spikes.

 

“Keep your colours quiet,” they said,  

“Let no lightning cross your face.  

No gold at dawn, no fire at dusk —  

Just blue, and stay in place.”

 

I brought them winds that sang of far lands,

And clouds that could dance and bend.  

But they frowned at my thunder’s poetry,

Called my weather a thing to mend.

 

They clipped the wings of my rainbows,  

And told my sunsets to wait.  

They didn’t want my chaos or calm —  

Just something to laminate.

 

So I stopped drawing with light.

I buried my moons in sleep.

I learned that to be accepted  

Was to be still, and deep, and cheap.

 

But oh — if they had looked closer,  

They’d have seen galaxies in my skin.  

They’d have heard oceans crashing in my chest,  

Felt the wild I kept within.

 

Now I sit in silent corners,  

A sky turned into a wall.  

Not because I lack colour —  

But because they asked for none at all.

He shook with fear and cried softly
As he sat in a dilapidated camp
His calm life had been as short-lived
As a flame in a kerosene lamp

As a child, he was showered with affection
His joy increased with every fond look
He thought that people lived in harmony
Till the day his entire world shook

It’s not just his story. It’s the story of those
Whose lives are ruined because of apathy
Peace would be more than just diplomacy
If our hearts were filled with empathy

If only we placed ourselves in the worn-out shoes
Of the powerless who suffer every day
We would strengthen our resolve to save them
And keep distress and despair at bay

So let us treat everyone with compassion
Let us understand each other’s pain
Let us connect souls with love and peace
Instead of breaking fragile hearts in vain.

Oh the emptiness in my heart,

I guess it’s time for a fresh start,

This isn’t my best piece, but one in a long time.

When I left, it was Winter Savoury,

but now it is Summer Thyme. 

 

My questions to an artist, an innovator:

Is every piece of your creation the result of a traitor?

Do you too lose motivation? 

And do you always come back greater?

 

I’ve had these lingering questions and nagging doubts in my head for too long.

 

Do you, like me, sit in the dark,

where once was a fire, now leaves no mark,

Wondering if you’ve lost your way, 

If inspiration’s led astray? 

 

Do you also look at your hands which once created magic? 

Do you recall the tales they wove?

Do you recall the whispers you heard? 

Or am I just absurd?

Since my childhood I was fond of the oceans, the blue waters always attracted me. I was very much a sea animal. Riding the waves always excited me. Sitting on the deck of a yacht on a sunny day and sipping mojito was my dream evening. 

And today was the day I was about to fulfill my long-awaited desire, after years of search I finally found a beautiful, luxurious yacht that would fit my budget. 

When I first saw the yacht, I thought something was wrong. It was too beautiful, too luxurious and far too cheap, It was surprisingly affordable, I thought, “why is the owner giving it away for such a low price”, he was probably in need of some quick/emergency cash, as he wanted to close the deal as soon as possible. 

At first, things looked suspicious, so I hesitated, wondering if I should buy it or not. But it was a great deal and I could not say no to it. I eventually made the deal. I was excited to get on it and on the very next Sunday morning, I decided to take it out. 

Filled with excitement, I stepped aboard the yacht and pushed the start button. The rush of blood in my body increased and I was filled with happiness, enthusiasm and eagerness. For 2 hours straight I sailed across the sea, riding the waves, cutting through the ocean water. The high tide made the sea a little choppy; that added to my joy of owning the sea. It was a thoroughly satisfying day, until I decided to use the washroom, the lock of the washroom was jammed and the knob was stuck. 

It must have been a bit rusty due to moist air. I felt like something was stopping me from moving into the washroom, eventually the knob gave with a crackling sound and I finally got inside the washroom. While using the washroom, I saw a cupboard in the washroom and out of curiosity, I thought of checking it out, maybe it stored some toiletries. As I approached the cupboard, a gush of cold wind blew across me, sending chills down my spine and suddenly things turned gloomy, as if someone was warning me of the consequences of opening the cupboard. 

With shaking hands I approached the door of the cupboard and opened it. To my shock there lay a knife covered with blood stains. My heart was in my mouth, my hands trembled, sweat ran cold down my back, and I froze, staring at the knife. Deep red stains were communicating the violence that might have happened. The blood looked relatively fresh. I was taken aback and stood there in shock, until I heard a loud, deafening sound. 

I rushed to the window of the yacht and was frightened to see a gigantic cargo ship approaching the yacht, they were continuously blowing horn. The horn roared like a beast warning me to get out of the way. Vibrations rattled the yacht, but as I was in a state of shock, I didn’t hear the horn on time. The captain of the ship tried to maneuver his way around the yacht, but the inevitable happened and the cargo ship hit the yacht. 

The collision shook the yacht, rocking it like a duck toy in a bathtub. Steel railing on the deck fell like ninepins, a part of the side of the yacht got ripped off and the water started rushing in. Before I could gather myself and comprehend what had just happened, the yacht started sinking. I rushed to open the door of the washroom to get out, only to find the door of the washroom jammed again. 

I started looking around for things that could help and I grabbed a steel rod and immediately ran towards the window to break the glass to escape. I hit the rod against the glass repeatedly until shards exploded around me. The window was small and the cramped space made it difficult for me to move out. I squeezed through the jagged frame, saltwater clawing at my legs, threatening to drag me under. The same seawater that was part of my dreams was suddenly becoming a nightmare. 

Fortunately, I was able to get out of the sinking yacht. A lifeboat from the cargo ship was waiting to rescue survivors and found me on time. After gaining my senses, I wasted no time and rushed straight to the nearest police station and narrated the whole incident to the officers. The police started investigating the matter. Divers attempted to recover the yacht from the sea floor to collect the evidences, and for days, investigators scrolled through minute details and eventually, the truth surfaced. The previous owner had been using the yacht for smuggling and other illegal activities, and to protect his secrets, he had committed several murders. To escape suspicion, he had sold the yacht quickly at a bargain but committed the mistake of leaving the blood-stained knife behind.

The authorities arrested him, and justice was finally served to the victims. The police rewarded me for help in uncovering the truth. I chose to donate the money received among the families of those who had suffered, hoping it would bring them peace. As for me, the same sea that was a dream for me was now a nightmare that will live with me forever.

A typical day in my life is awash with monotony and certainty,

Predictability disconnects from a task any emotion,

Not a day goes by without me feeling empty-

Drifting in this lifeless ocean.

 

Everyday from this ceaseless foreknowledge I demanded liberation,

Craving cessation of this forced apathy,

But this seemingly perpetual farce

never failed to strengthen my frustration.

Oh! How I wish the universe had some empathy.

 

Yes, that is how it was!

 

But then, the board exam results were released!

Finally it had arrived! My long needed rapture!

Beyond any description I was pleased,

For it was a feeling no words could capture!

 

Soaring through the clouds was my mind,

Envisioning the termination of that wretched recurrence,

But the light of pleasure made it so blind,

It expected nothing but blissful permanence.

 

Yet deep within, the joy was not but a fleeting

Mere and momentary high,

Minute-by-minute that bliss was depleting,

And soon, the vessel of emotion was again dry.

 

An absurd notion! I dismissed with a frown,

Hiding behind the shield of ‘unfulfilled expectations’,

But the truth spared not even that shield from breakdown,

And revealed the supreme principle of god’s creation.

 

Incredibly bitter is the wine of victory,

When one feels/understands its transience,

Never did I know that existence is this contradictory,

When I was in my blissfully ignorant ambience.

 

Yes, that is how it is!

 

The ego was soon reduced to dust,

Destroyed were the daydreams and fantasies,

Silenced was my fragile mortal lust

When the truth disproved the glorious fallacies.

 

Predictable and monotonous remain my days,

Unchanged is my apathetic state,

But no longer do I burn under expectation’s blaze,

And no longer do I treat foreknowledge with hate.

 

For now I see the bigger picture,

With a mind unswayed by the external,

The truth preached by many scriptures,

Nothing Is Eternal.

 

Yes, that is how it would be.