confidence, culture, failure, family, happy, hardwork, heartbreak, home, house,, human, humanity, India, life, love, motivation, poem, poverty,, relax, sad, story telling

New year’s Eve-il


Markets are crowded, stores decorated.
People: wearing nice clothes; seems in a hurry.


She wondered, “why?”



They say, “it’s new year eve! “.



” What’s that?”, she questioned?



“It’s celebrating togetherness, prosperity, love! “, They replied.



“Ah! That’s so”;



“It’s stupid, “, ” It’s expensive! “,
she muttered.



It’s midnight;



“It’s new year eve! “, people shouted.


Excitement, filled in air reaches her ear.


Out of window, she looked outside.
Black night with colourful sky,
Different fireworks, amazing sounds.


she smiled,


” Could it be?


My brother, seeing the same, in far land,
How he is now, it’s been years, we met.

Could it be?


my mother, have time, of her work; watch this glittering ‘thing’,
I guess.

Could it be?


my father, watching with me!
It’s too near from the sky”.

“Yet, all these are;
only in my thoughts.
I can think, but can’t feel.”

“This enthusiasm, I saw in others.
People making crazy faces;
Out of joy, with their love”.

“How lovely,
if we were together, holding hands, just like them.
I will share, my yesterday’s saved bun.”


“Of course, soup, i stole from bin,
Even little, it will fill our hear!
Of togetherness, of love”.

” Different I am,
with the rest”, “who celebrate eve”.

For her it’s eve-il,
which reminds her:
Loneliness;
Dark, silent, empty heart;
Mournful tears.

Yet,
hope in memories.

Couching her body, to avoid cold from the winter breeze;
coming with the eves songs;
silently from the cracked hole, of window.

smiling!, she goes to sleep:



“Next Eve-il“


“May be!”, “mine new years eve! “.

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child, confidence, culture, family, happy, hardwork, home, house,, human, humanity, life, love, mother, motivation, poem, sad, self, sucess

My Ex- parents’ house

They say I don’t belong here.
I was daughter ‘their’s’ once.

Of this family, by blood, by love.
I grew up, they married me off!

No longer, situation is same.

“I am married”, ” I am someone else’s “.
“I don’t have the say”, ” I can’t nay! “.

Once ‘my room’, is no more, mine.

This land: I planted tree, I trimmed these grasses, now flowered, with dozen fruits.

This balcony,
I cried,in pain; I danced, in rain.

This dine:
I cooked with love, of love, for the love.

So different things have grown.

I look through window; not come inside.

I am a stranger, a passing by.

This structure of wood and bricks,
People said, ‘house’; I ‘home’.

What should I plate it now:
“My ‘ex’ parents house”.

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