Pens and Pages

The thing about promises is that they can be broken. I was almost on the verge of breaking a promise before I sat to write this saviour blog-post of mine. Courtesy: LinkedIn The promise or the goal was that I’d ignore the negativity around me and write about the positive things, the little acts of kindness, love and hope on my blog this year. Two and a half months have elapsed and I haven’t written a word. In my defense, I was busy writing hatke marketing-related articles for Marketing Buzzar (You can find them here ). So like I promised in the month of January that I will write about people who help me restore my faith on humanity in this world of today, the person I pick today to write about is Suruchi Gupta, a fellow student at MDI, and her “The Umbrella” incident. It so happened that we, the members of the Counseling Cell of MDI Gurgaon, were at a meeting discussing future plans for the college and also, our individual career paths when one of our seniors ment...

Somewhere far, In another constellation of stars, Maybe you're right And maybe I'm wrong, And maybe I'm not as sick and frail and unsound, And maybe you stay Like the darkest of nights that didn't leave today. A thousand years would go by, Only to let in a thousand more. Maybe we smile There Lying beneath the countless clouds of a faraway sky. Maybe time stands still For it no longer matters Or maybe it gently passes by Like the breeze from a land we visited once. Once, Twice or thrice, maybe we shed tears too On the wounds of distant scars Slowly healing The way rainbows disappear. Maybe we smear dirt On each other's faces Like children play With their eyes closed But hearts open, And maybe we no longer deny That there still exists true love Somewhere far Beneath the same sky we look at tonight, Love that overpowers eternity, Oblivion and destiny. Love, when it is just you and me.

She tossed and turned in her bed. Tears, there were, flowing from her tiny eyes, which he had lovingly called almond-like. She never understood how can someone’s eyes look like almonds, but leaving all logic behind, she loved anything he would call her. He wasn't anywhere near to call her anything anymore. Since the last three months, he was gone. “’Lost’ is the word”, she would explain. Indeed, he was lost; she lost him to the hands of time and fate, to the hands of love and hate. She had wailed, begged him to stop. He didn't stop that day, nor did he look back as he walked out with his suitcase and backpack. She had called his name out, so loud that even her neighbours came out of their houses. But he didn't for once turn around, not even to bid his final adieu. “Probably he didn't hear me, he has always been absent-minded in his own train of thoughts”, she had reasoned herself like a dutiful wife. Three months have passed since she...

Your love is like a glass of wine it's always less than I ask for, its always more than I deserve, your love is like the ring on my finger I am embellished by its glint, It is admired now and again, It may not be commemorated at all times, but I will be incomplete, with a void if it's lost..

Take away the memories with you As you leave today Take away those happy moments Take away those tears too Because I found myself today When I lost you Take away my screaming self Who wails and withers in pain Take away the pink letters Take away the smiles too Because they know it’s over And there’s nothing we can do Take away all the pieces That reminds me of you But before leaving, Darling Take away my heart too Because it can’t love anyone else now As my love for you is true Take away all the reasons That might make you to stay Take away all the regrets That didn't make me stop you Because deep within myself I know you loved me too

For love that went wrong, I write tonight this song of stoics and emotions of hatred and devotions for the man who never kept his words for the woman who conceived each to be true for the broken promises and hopes high for the lost love and solace found for the letters unwritten and songs sung for the million tears and smiles few... for the woman who wanted to fly for the man with wings broken for the dreams shattered and heights unreached for the million places yet unseen for the vows forced and rules breached... for the man who loved with a frail heart for the woman too strong to falter for the anxieties felt and her insouciance for the feelings untold and truths confessed for the first song and their last dance for the realities that hurt and imaginations that solaced... for the woman whose courage was all she had for the man who shattered her only asset for the fears instilled by the cruel laughs for the claims of lov...

If only tears could heal... Poem to be published in Minds at Work 2 by FirstStep Publishing

I know not what I lack, I know not why I cry, Since the day you are gone Everyday I die. Passing through a dark phase, I do not know if it will end. Telling my bleeding heart In this phase I must blend. “Saying sorry will not do”, That is what you told, But to endure your absence My heart is not that bold. I have nothing that Money cannot buy, But now these words Seem so wry, For I can not have you, Standing by my side, I begged you that day But you did go away, My faults did not give You a reason to stay, I should have stopped you, I can not bear this pain, Yes, I need you To be in my life again, I put my hand on my chest, And claim today, I will wait for you Till my death day, In heaven we will meet, This promise I will keep. Please, come back to me How long will we weep? Forgiveness I ask for, Before you, my soul stands, My head is down and I am with folded hands. Restless I am not, I state this with...

You claim to know all Of love and of her.. You claim her love ain’t true.. So today I ask you..  What do you know of love? When you have never had a dream of her? What do you know of her? When you have never longed for her love? Oh, What do you know of love? When your heart don’t ache When she cries her heart out? What do you know of her? When you notice her smile But not the drop of tear in her eye? What do you know of love? When your heart ain’t worthy enough to be loving? What do you know of her? When you could never feel the pain she’s been hiding? You claim to know all Of love and of her.. You claim her love aint true.. Maybe coz she’s not like you..

[ The poem is written as a tribute and encouragement to the unfortunate rape victims of the society who are fighting every day to live with dignity.  This poem is published in  Read In Park ] Never had known pain, As I do now… Never knew what grief is, But I do now… When the morning sun knocks on my window, I weep silently recalling that loathsome night, When the rays fall on my wet pillow, I wail in self pity ending another sleepless night. Every morning I look into the mirror To see the detested face, Robbed, touched, raped, I now loathe my every single trace. I had begged for help, Had cried for mercy, But no one took a single step, That night to rescue me     They jeered at my pain, Laughed at my plight, “Men” they called themselves Those beasts of that night The fear that arouse in me, I fear it may bring my death Growing day by day, It questions my each breath The bruises on my face will heal, ...

Published in the February 2013 issue of  Good Times of the North-East As if raising a four-year-old kid alone was not enough, little Nikki had begun asking questions to her dad for which he had no answers. “Daddy, everyone in school has two parents, why do I have only one?” As a response, Ravi would pass the bowl of cereals, on the wooden dining table that doubles as a table for ironing the clothes of his customers, to his daughter and snap. “Eat your breakfast”. The laundryman would be furious at his daughter for being so questioning, and partly because he could not answer it, or rather because he had been asking the same questions to himself for three years. After he would drop her off at school, Ravi would realize that none of this was the little girl’s fault and his anger would change into compunction and sometimes, self-pity.  While his daughter would be in the school, pestered by the fact that her father forgot to pack her lunch box again, Rav...