Nothing Has Changed for Women….

29 February, 2008


The Roman law

The aisle of the church

Men at their whims

Accusing fingers

At hapless victims

Judgmental power

Corrupting the patrons

Of blindness

Bias and inquest


The voiceless victims

Women weak and desolate

Lonely, forlorn and frail.

But charged with

Black magic and witchery

To practice sorcery!

We are enlightened

Free and liberated

Of age old rituals

Of persecution

And biased execution

But in name only!

Imagined conspiracies

Biases and fallacies

Working undercurrent


To persecute

Torment and harass

Resulting in

Psychic weariness

In the name of

Justice and fair trial!


Nothing has changed

The men enjoy

Inflicting hard deadly blow

Covered with soft covers

To the pride and dignity

Of the handful few

Who take a stand

Rise against wrongs

To challenge and question

The erroneous deed

Unjustified pains inflicted

The tortures hurled

And pay a price

With a blow to

Their female dignity

And life!

And then they say

You have come

A long way baby!


My Masked Existence…

7 February, 2008


How can I share your pain,

Anguish and distress?

When I inhabit another world,

A different sphere

And a different realm?

When I don’t even hear

Your quivering voice

A resonating, trembling

Shaking sound,

Pleads for listening


Sharing your pain.

At loss of trust,

Breach of faith,

A knife at the back.

You seek conviction


Of my love and support

But thinking of the

Next meeting


I nod my head

Hug automatically

Machine like

Robotic movement

And putting on

Another mask

Move ahead to

Another world.

Where I laugh and smile

Hug and applaud

But am really in

A make-believe world

Of masked appearances.

Don’t blame me

For my apathy

As I don’t even know

The world I

Belong to?

I have learnt only

To put on mask

To fit the ceremony!

The Faustian Souls….

7 February, 2007


Don’t shy away,

And look elsewhere,

I won’t question the

Motives and fears

That made you

Turn against me!


But I honestly think

And wonder aloud

What made you

Behave the way you did?


Was it greed?

Pressure or fear?

That made you plead

Proclaim and swear

Statement full of falsehood?


Surprised and shocked

At names that unrolled

Years of togetherness

Of pain and happiness.

The moments of raptures

And unshed tears

Spent together!


Dear friends and colleagues

I don’t question

The motives and fears

That made you glare

An accusing eye

A pointing finger

At one who still

Craves for your wellbeing

And shudder at

The weight of burden

That your Faustian souls

Might be

Shuddering under!



Why do I hurt her?

04 February, 2008


Why do I hurt her?

By words gestures

Using sarcasm and jeer

Bring out precious tears

From her dreamy eyes

Where her pain lies

Open and wounded

Giving away the view of

Her soul trampled and injured.

Do I love making her weep.

Cry and sob and whimper

For my care, hug and pat

To be comforted

In a warm embrace?

I play indifferent

Put a mask of aloofness

Put aside my face

To hide the wetness

On my cheeks

That my tears unashamedly

Speak and foretell

My pain and grief

At hurting my own child?

I want to save you from hurt

Pain and disgrace

Hurled by others

Who would in name of love

Make you see break down

And would regale

In the ego and supremacy

Of an egoistic male.

I want you to toughen up

From outside and inside

To take the world

Cruel and apathetic

In your stride.

Because as your mother

I can see the frailty


And vulnerability

That awaits you

My daughter!


Stabbing at my Back…

03 July, 2007

Stabbing at my back

When your thoughts

Friendly gestures

Shared raptures

Had made me smile.

Thinking awhile

Of you and your

Compassionate care

That made me

Stand up and stare

At adversaries,

And to take stand

To uphold

The values and beliefs

That made us Strive together

On the path

To justice and reliefs.

Stabbing at my back

Did you not

Ponder for a while

Or could gather

From endless

Arguments and strife,

Debates and wiles

The good old time

That we shared together.

Why did you stab?

Killed and maimed

An entity

Immersed in you

A part of you

As a whole.

The bloodless coupe

The ruthless trend

Stabbing at the back

To move ahead.

Or I was a stepping stone

To move up and above

Meticulously used

And mercilessly thrown!

Disbelief, incredulity

Made my being

Look vacantly

And question almighty

Were you ever

My own my friend? 

And she Cried…

This is a poem dedicated to someone who is very strong yet vulnerable. Aren’t we all???

 trekking-parashar-022.jpgAnd She Cried… 

Mountains stand proud and still,

Aiming for the sky.

Dry, hard and rocky stiff

With seemingly invincible cliff.

But from the breast

Opening the crest,

Water running down the hill,

Clean, sparked and cool

Quenching the thirsty soul

Tired, weak and frail!

No one questions

Even wonders

At the water gurgling down

Not aiming up to sky

Deep down it flows

Would I be like a mountain

Hard, stony and rocky stiff

Of would I be like

The soothing water sprinkle

Cooling the blithering

The scorched souls?

No one seems to see

Or taste or smell

The tears of mountain

Gurgling down

Quenching the thirst

Rejuvenated and fresh

All walk along!

Walk on and on…  

What Do I Search For?

14 April, 2007

What do I search for,

Moving from

One room to another?

Opening cupboards,

Watching clothes

Still stacked

Neat and clean.

Waiting endlessly for

You all to come

Come back to me;

To the rooms

So empty and bare;

Bereft of love and care

That you all filled

The rooms, the space

And my life with!

I take in my hands

Put close to my face

The clothes smelling

Of your body odour

Still fresh and lovely.

Refresheningly healing

Touching and feeling

Bringing reminiscence

Of brightness and colour.

That filled the home

With reverberation

Colour, music

And songs.

Hard rock blaring

Making feet to tap

And eyes dance

The lips widening

In smile so pure.

That even today

I hang around

For you to come

To be around,

One more time!


The Death of Bhishma, the Warrior…

April 03, 2007

It was Bhishma’s body that was killed by Arjuna during the famous Mahabharata war as he had died the day Amba asked the Dharma knowing Bhishma for the reasons for her abductions.

The Death of Bhishma, the Warrior…

A fiery Amba

A sneering Amba

Epitome of vile

Hatred and despise,

stares hard

with burning eyes

At the grandiose

he-man of the Kurus

strong, invincible,

stoic and impregnable

esteemed Dharma Guru.

Ganga Putra, Bhishma.

Standing still,

shocked and immobile

Bowed headed

Lips sealed

Eyes cast downward

The warrior’s arms

Limp and flaccid

Lack the strength

The show of manliness

That they displayed

In the royal court

Pulling and putting

defenceless and fragile

Damsels three

Making them slaves

Of his will free.

But today

He stands shamed

Mute and maimed

When fiery Amba

Epitome of courage

Strength and power

Questions his manhood

His powerful

Actions of glory

Asking for


Of her maidenly right

But the grand man

The Dharma knowing


Could not defeat

The empowered


Frail little princess.

Could not meet

Those fiery eyes

And burnt alive

A death unsung

And unceremonious.

Do I Live if My Dreams Die?

 March 31, 2007

The promising lights

At the end of the darkness

The towering heights

Upward ascent

A sense of achievement

Disarmingly my own.

The dominion of dreams.

The distant goals

The trusting humanity

The reinstated faith

Bonding and unity.

Made me have a reverie

Inside the world

The making of their own

Of a lining silvery.

That enchantment

Brought up a desire

Buried deep

Dormant and lacking fire

Needing nurturing

With love and care

The softness, yet strength

At the minimum bare.

But the world

Shining and inviting

Seemed so aloof

Cutting cold and frosty

With glacial looks

And icy humanity.

Where my voice hushed

The seedling

Eager to see the world anew

Wilted, drooping down.

Suffocated, strangulated

With a muffled moan.

But not dead

Lifeless and gone

It still craves for air

Mountain fresh and clean

To rekindle the hope

Of a chance, a prospect

To endeavor and venture

Live and breathe

Another extreme

To dream and transcend

A life supreme!


Bidding Goodbyes…

It was a tagline “Hate saying Goodbyes :(” that caught my attention and this poem came out, breaking free from all that we hold inside, hiding even from our own self!

March 30, 2007

The feeling, the sensation

demarcated and lucid

the pain, the strain

engulfing us all

of parting and bidding adieu

to one who was so dear.

The laughing lips,

smiling eyes

hide the drops

of saline tear

that tries hard

to hide and hold.

the real self

Sheathed under

the apparent bold

mask of indifference

placid and serene


matters routine,

struggles hard to

block and withhold

the precious tear

that the windows

to our heart and mind

don’t want to disclose

or even you to find

the memories

of loss and pain

that you leave behind

the hurt and strife

of the bleeding hearts

bidding you goodbyes.