Hope in Darkness

A thousand moons have gone by, but the smell of her lingers, filling the nights with a fragrance of hope. A hope that grows, never fades, even in the face of darkness that otherwise shrouds his life.He does not remember much nowadays, life is but a blur. Alzheimers, they call it. On the old rickety chair in the porch, he sits in evenings, looking into the rolling fields dotted by the glow of the fireflies and then suddenly he hears her voice, oh her sweet voice, and something in his soul stirs. He feels his heart beating. He calls out to the night, her name on his lips, her smell filling his being.


He knows she is calling out to him. And as he recedes into the chair and his thoughts fade slowly, he smiles. A smile of hope, for he knows soon, he will be with her. 


Who am I?

On me , have rested tired souls
And have exulted the happy ones.
I have seen joy and pain,
equal and evenly spread.

I have known secrets shared
and love expressed,
I have seen fights and tiffs
and the sweet make-ups.

While the little ones play,
tired mums have rested on me.
and old ladies have found in me,
a place to go and muse on life.

For the ones without a home,
I have been a resting place.
A reprieve I am for lost souls,
I am that lone bench in the park,
the silent companion to many.

A Story

How do you write a story that has not ended yet.
At least not in your head. In reality, in this material world, it ended in the lack of money. That was when she walked away, with promises shattered, joys undiscovered.

But in my head, I like to wipe away those memories and begin anew. Sometimes, I win a lottery and she stays. Sometimes I write a book and become a famous author and she stays. And each time, we live happily ever after. Build a house with a white fence near the sea. Have a lot of children.
In my head it is always a happy ending.

I am now old and rich, with years of contemplation behind me. Yet I do not know what charm those notes of paper held for her.
Today, as I sit in my bed, surrounded by rolls of them, I touch and sniff them. They hold no love, no joy.
They could never have given the love, the happiness that I would have.

Pity, she left without seeing the heaven I could have created for her.

Well, in my head, I still did.

You Are Safe

She clutched the baby close to her as she made her way out of the house, slowly and quietly. The hurriedly packed bag was light, so was the baby. Her steps became faster as she walked through the narrow lanes of the village. It was dead of the night, even the stray dogs did not bother to bark at her. 

She was becoming tired, after all, she had delivered her baby just 2 days ago. But it was another 20 mins walk to the train station. She held the baby tighter, determined to make it.

As the late night train was about to pull out, she arrived, puffing, out of breath.

She got into the last compartment and shuffled to the window seat and as the train started to move slowly, she stared at the dark world outside, willing the train to move faster. And it did. It was soon chugging along, swiftly, leaving the village behind.

Two hours into the journey, she started breathing more easily. She held her baby close, kissed her forehead and as the first rays of the sun creeped into the carriage, she whispered to her baby girl,
“You are now safe, my angel.”

The Shimmering Sky

The little girl gazed out of the car window at the orphanage becoming smaller. And then the evening sky caught her eye. 

It was lit with streaks of gold dust. It sparkled as the shimmering strips of light seemed to fall on the dark earth below.

Her new mom’s gaze followed. 

“The Gods are celebrating our new love, our new family and your new life,” she whispered gently.

The little girl’s apprehension disappeared, after all the Gods were celebrating, that can mean only good.
She smiled for the first time. 

Her mom smiled back. 

The meteor shower had laid the foundation of happiness. 


I listen to the tick-tock of time,
And see it pass, as I lie on my bed,
Dreams, peace, all elude me,
Sleep I cannot, lost in time it is.

The constant screeching of silence,
Makes me close my ears.
I try to escape from the pain,
Words and speech I want to hear.

Solitude, oh my friend,
Go, go away, I need you no more.
Your proximity now hurts,
It sears and pokes my soul.

Bleeding I am, as loneliness haunts,
Warmth is what I need,
And some laughter, some love.
Solitude, go, go away.

Who Am I?

In the midst of chaos and cacophony, when all seems calm, when zen sets in and all that remains is the distant humming ringing in ears, know that I have set in.

When you see that one person and you feel the gush of joy and ecstasy and pain- a perfect blend- know I am the one causing it.

And as you despair and ache and want, and pray for the first time in life, I smile.

For that longing is what I am all about.
I am in awe of myself.
People say I am a state of mind, I say I am everything this world is all about.
I give you what you lack, I give you hope and happiness, I show you the way.

They call me love. I call myself life.