Plea to my juvenile self

Dear five year old me ,

You climbed the Junglegym once upon a time and fell down scraping your knee. You got up and didn’t stop till you reached the top.

You spent hours on the swing ,
Gazing at the snowy white clouds that looked like horses racing on the clear blue sky.

You cried your heart out when it had hurt , when the pain was unbearable .

You spilled all the milk out of your mouth, bursting into laughter at a silly joke cracked by your friend.

You found solace in stories , pestering everyone who you knew to tell you one .

Why is the sky blue ?Why do we pray ?Why do trees don’t speak? Why am I supposed to this ? How am I supposed to do this ?
Your curious mind kept asking questions to everyone – without hesitation . Making a list of questions , you pinned them on your wall.

You sat beside your grandmother shelling peas , on your father’s lap playing with his hair , telling your mother what you did the whole day.

You jumped in puddles without the fear of spoiling your dress , feeling the raindrops on your skin , anxiously waiting for the rainbow.

You raced with the dog alone even though your friend , who was afraid of dogs , said it would bite you.

You believed in magic, fairies and unicorns even when elders said they didn’t exist.

You drew , sung and danced because you wanted to draw , sing and dance. Was there any other reason required, to do what you loved to do ?

Dear five year old me , I know you’re still there within me and I want you to stay there – always .



Cuddling me when I don’t want to ,”go away ” I shouted but the voices wouldn’t listen.                                                         

Rises from dingy dull places ; the whispers , I think .                               

Inspirit if you can but do not condemn without a trigger to help.

Too curvy , too flat , too shiny , too dull ,too short , too long ,too rude , too docile, too fast , too slow – I learnt they always have to say something .

Inclement showers trying to break the umbrella.

Cactus ” they called it when the seed was that of a sunflower.

Invading the mind ,perforating through the heart , it can puncture the soul; if you let it do so

Sturdy winds fail to push locked doors,however .

Make way , meteors blaze and break:they won’t stop.

The canvas 

Black , green ,all shades of blue;
Every hue stain with every passing view .
Knowing nothing , knowing all ;
Bright daylight and when the sun befalls.

Dreary night or
Starry night.
Half empty or
half full .

Look at it or look through it ,
Every hue stain caused with every passing view .

Jagged mountains stand to watch .
Vivid pictures on the canvas of my mind ,
It’s your mind where art lies.

Blaze up 

Let the assent of winter make you bold,
Not cold .
Let the cold breeze hitting your face ,
Remind you of the sunny days to brace.
Let not the ones in cage belittle your ambitions ,
Rebel against the wrong conventions.
Soon you will soar ,
While they behind the locked bars shall hoar.
The fragile are subdued by the tide of time;
But you who’re so strong and bold,
But you who’s a jewel more valuable than gold,
How can YOU yield to the surge’s swell ?
You shall not get conquered by the whirlpool,
Because you’re the whole mighty ocean.
You’re lightening and you’re thunder ,
You’re a volcano and you shall not surrender.
You can bend and you can mend ,
You can break and you can fix ,
You’re powerful not weak.
You’re not a Phoenix that rises from the ashes ,
You make the ashes,
You’re fire.

Knight In Shining Armour

A sword sometimes clutched in hand ,
A sturdy exterior with a heart so grand .
Full of valour and gallantry ,
Loyal to a fault; wears it as an accessory.
Obstinately refusing to give up and let go of you ,
Sticks like glue even when others say adieu .
Ready to slay all that comes on the way,
When melancholy befalls , makes you gay.
More luminous than the sun ,
An aura so magnificent that makes one burn.
Human’s biggest fantasy ,
Cannot remain a mystery.
Such a person with deftness abound,
By hook or crook had to be found.
I looked at the mirror ,
Finally discerned my knight in shining armour.

Light in obscurity

There’s truth in night and in shadows.
There’s truth in the breeze that touches the willows.
The hallow of the soul creating a hollow on your mind,
The obscurity of the night is not a fiend.
Outward facades that one puts on during the day ,
With the advent of dusk it gradually decays.
And, eyes see light
More luminous than the daylight.
And lips utter words ,
Which at day the brain never accords .
Perhaps it’s called the witching hour ,
Because to embrace the demon within is beyond a mortal’s power.
Night is alluring ,
Night is engulfing .
Night bewitches ,
Night enthralls.
Night kills,
Night heals.
There’s truth in night and in shadows ,
There’s truth in the breeze that touches the willows.


Sometimes like the lava erupting from the volcano ,
Other times , as tremendous as a tornado.
When in pain ,
When efforts go in vain .
When the dark within overshadows the dark outside,
When dejection proceeds taking a long stride.
Also when you are so elated, that
In words the joy cannot not be stated.
Pulling together, pulling apart,
It is a mirror to the heart .
Like the river gushing down the peak ,
It leaves bleak streaks on the cheek.
In suppressible, insurgent : An apostle of emotion,
Tears of God’s creation .

daft who finds solace in writing