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On the death of a baby girl

In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.
You would have been four by now,
Maybe just started school.
Your mother loves you, I want you 
To know that. But then you always 
question. You ask me, "Why did you 
stop me ? Was I not reason enough for 
Happiness ?"
You were, my child, you were. 
I stopped you, I did not want you to 
die in the way I do. Every single day.
My blood and tears are reason enough
To stop you. Maybe some other world 
Is ours. Where I can keep you hidden 
From vile eyes, words and touch.
Where I can see you smile, walk and grow.
Where I can beam after watching your laughter.
In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.


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I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.


Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017