Thank you!

I walked into a red bricked building
With quivering hands and a heart pounding fast.
The corners of my lush pink lips drooped,
Streams of tears rolled down my plump cheeks.

I clinged onto mom’s dupatta,
Clasped dad’s office tie tighter.
I was not willing to leave my shell,
Wanted to be tucked in my parents’ laps forever.

Two warm hands reached my quaking shoulders,
Soothing my frightened body.
Her eyes sparkled with life,
And promises of joy and delight.

She took my shivering hands
And clenched them into strong and confident fists;
She wiped tears off my dewy eyes
And placed hopes and dreams in them.

She caressed my anxious heart
And moulded it with love;
She touched my little lips
And gave them a reason to smile.

She made me who I am today,
She helped this little human blossom.
I owe myself to you,
Oh thank you dear teacher!


“The World Has Changed”

“The world has changed,”
they say.
“Nothing is as fine
as ever before.”
“It’s ugly and loathsome
to live in a world
like this.”
“The world has changed.”
Well, no.
It’s not the world
that has changed,
It’s still the same.
The sun used to rise in the east;
it still does.
There used to be twenty-four
hours in a day;
so are now.
Fire used to be scalding,
ice used to be frosty;
such is the case
even today.
But definitely,
something has changed-
Our minds, our hearts.
Corrupt, brutal, stupid,
wicked, inhuman, ruthless.
Our minds have gone crazy
for money.
Our hearts have gone cold
for no good reason.
We kill, we fight,
we steal, we wound,
we lie, we cheat,
we hurt, we fake,
we wreck, we hate.
We do so many wrongs
that make this Earth pathetic.
Our minds have changed,
Our hearts have changed.
But still we say,
“The world has changed.”

The Red Leopard

Amidst pieces of wood,
A Leopard took birth;
Surrounded by rocks
That lay on the earth

In the colour of blood
Small, but bright,
Lay the Leopard
And gave out light

Gradually, but soon,
The wood melted away.
She got bigger and redder
And left behind ashes of grey.

Slowly and steadily,
she grew more and hotter.
No one could stop her
Other than water.

A leopard so big
And fierce and red
And bright and hot
In her wooden bed.

She increased in fury
And size and violence.
Except for her crackling,
There was utter silence.

Very soon she was
Completely grown.
Piercing through the darkness,
Her passionate eyes shone.

Finally she was big enough
To prey upon me,
Larger and bloodier,
Than anything could be!

Elegantly leaping forward,
While dancing in the night,
A fire stood before me,
Fierce, but bright.

Yes, fire it was,
Ablaze right in front of me,
Magnificent and regal
As a leopard would be.

The Light With Wings

As I stood in the dark,
I saw dots of gold,
Dancing in the air,
In the night so cold.

They were just so little,
Like marbles of light;
The light with wings
Surrounded me on every side.

They were like luminous commas,
Hung in the air with invisible strings.
Others may call them fireflies,
But I still call them light with wings.

The Prettiest Princess

It was a beautiful night,
I was walking by the stream.
The beautiful white moon
Winked at me and beamed.

The stars in the dark sky
Twinkled at their best.
The night provided a pleasing vista,
Full of charm and zest.

But the prettiest sight
Still awaited me,
A maiden in a red gown
With satins of green.

I walked towards her,
As elegant she was.
Her red and green attire,
Devoid of any flaws.

I went closer to her
To get a perfect glance.
She gave me a little smile,
And stood in a gracious stance.

“Oh pretty lady!
You must be a princess,
Because in your red calico,
You look truly the best!”

Then she laughed a bit,
And shook her lovely head,
“I am not a princess,
But a rose!” she said.

Who Took Me Home?

It was a dark, stormy night,
Not a single body in sight.
Amidst the chilly, foggy air,
I was all alone over there.

All alone, in the middle of the road,
Something was lit up, was it a lamp post?
Or the moon? Or a star?
Or the headlights of a car?

The cold, icy air numbed my feet,
While I stood there and chattered my teeth.
Someone took my arm
And said, “I’ll cause you no harm”.

“Trust me, come along,
I’ll take you to where you belong”.
Along with him, I walked away,
And realised, a blind man had showed me the way…

It’s Time

It’s time, dear humans,
To undo the ill;
There are wounds to clean
And gaps to fill.

It’s time, with earth,
We fairly dealt,
Animals are dying,
Glaciers do melt.

It’s time to care for
The earth that fostered us.
It’s we who destroyed her
And created this fuss.

It’s time to clear the air
Of all its pollution.
Let’s get up and think,
And find a solution.

It’s time to clean up
The garbage we’ve thrown
Let’s get up and work,
Not sit and mourn.

It’s time we restored the trees
That were felled for our greed.
Let’s green the earth
That you and I need.

It’s time to kill wrong thoughts
That make us do bad,
For our will ought not be
To make someone sad.

It’s time to remove masks
And stop being fake,
For stabbing a back,
Is the biggest mistake.

It’s time to end racism
And make everyone equal.
No white or black,
No boy or girl.

It’s time we lived in harmony
And loved everyone,
And apologised for every
Wrong said and done.

It’s time to change
And write a new story.
Let’s the give the world back
Its long lost glory.

An Indian Lady

An Indian lady,
So beautiful she is,
Proudly she walks,
Dressed in herself.

A bindi
Isn’t merely a punctum;
It’s an exemplar of her decency
And the purity of her thoughts.

A dupatta
Isn’t just a lace on her chest;
It’s her pride and self respect
That she carries everywhere.

A sari
Isn’t just a six-yard fabric;
It’s her identity and pride
And her trust in herself.

Her sindoor
Isn’t simply red powder on her head;
It’s her love for her husband
And her faith in her marriage.

Her mehandi
Isn’t barely a brown design on her palm;
It’s the reflection of her promises
And her belief in her culture.

Her chudiyaan
Aren’t solely bands on her wrist;
They are a manifestation of
Her incandescent soul and cheerful life.

The solah shringaar
That she wears
Isn’t merely her jewellery or attire;
It’s a piece of herself.

But She’s Still A Human

Yes, it is a baby girl,
Not an auspicious son.
Though you may be sad,
But she’s still a human.

You say she is unlucky,
And she is not strong.
Well, having huge breasts,
Is it really wrong?

Or giving birth to a baby?
Or bleeding for five days?
Or looking really pretty?
Or working always?

Your daughter’s a girl,
Your mother’s a girl.
She’s also a human,
Then why isn’t she equal?

A man can remarry,
A lady can not.
A boy can study,
A girl can not.

Males can rule,
Females can not.
Why is it so,
Have you ever thought?

“He” is good,
“She” is not.
This is what to us
The society has taught.

Just sit for a moment,
And think for a while,
Why is “she” treated in
Such a “savage” style?

Oh! Dear society,
“She” is an able person.
What if she’s a girl?
But she’s still a human…

In The Dead Of The Night

Silent was the moment,
The moon sent forth light
And the stars gleamed overhead;
The darkness seemed so bright!

The owls hooted at a distance,
The wind whispered to the trees,
‘Oh let me sing you a melody,
While the people sleep with ease.’

Thus she started singing,
And the leaves danced onto her beats,
The stars twinkled to her rhythm
Up above the empty streets.

The road lights flickered,
And the moon shone ever so,
Clapping at the performance,
And beaming at the earth below.

All this was so
winsome, you see;
It filled my heart with
Delight and glee.

Oh who says the night
Is melancholic and glum?
I say its beauty has
surpassed that of sun.

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