Apparently time doesn’t work for me the same way it does for you. It has been so many weeks… (months?!) since I last posted something here.

Well, four months (has it really been four months?) for you, isn’t four months for me! Of course, the time is to blame. Not me. Never me. :D

Okay, now that I’ve had time to think about it, maybe me.. ;)

A pleated skirt in navy blue.
Downcast eyes. Not a clue.
Somebody’s baby girl. An innocent.
Looked down upon, she knew not why.
Too young for the truth, but not a lie?

A few more years, a different view.
Hating someone she barely knew.
A young girl. An innocent.
With her head held high, she now walked,
To speak her mind she never balked.

She stepped inside the towering walls
Unable to tell what’s true; what’s false.
A fine woman. An innocent.
Her heart clenched at the wretched sight.
Blinded by the dawning light

She looked into the eyes of an innocent.
The prisoner, her father, an innocent.
A sobbing woman filled with guilt,
She fell at the feet of an innocent,
Was absolved by the touch of the innocent.

- Arya

The thought of a child growing up not knowing why people treated her the way they did and then learning where her father was and why is what made me write this.

When she is old enough to understand she hears from everyone the kind of a man her father was and that he was to blame for her terrible childhood. When she pays him a visit, probably to tell him what she went through, she sees that she’s had it easy. Things aren’t always the way they seem to be.

Middle of Nowhere

It’s been a while. I thought I’d post another poem. And, I’d do it now without putting it off for any longer. :D

Middle of Nowhere

Sometime in the last month, after what was a nearly two and half hour journey, we – that is, a couple of friends and I – found ourselves in a place where there was almost nothing. Nobody. Save for the few houses scattered about and the sound of insects (I think it was insects), there was no sign of another life. The serene blue sky with a sprinkle of clouds and the light brown ground with a rare splash of green- it was disconcerting, to say the least.

So, that was what made me write this…..a month ago.. :D

Out of Place

This wrote itself, when sleep refused to visit me until early morning today. :D

The title says it all. It didn’t take a lot of imagination. Just put a few thoughts and experiences of someone who is not new to the feeling into words.

Cross the threshold.
Blend with the wall.
Little bold.
Feel so small.

A frozen smile.
Forced laughter.
A little guile.
A seasoned actor?

Or life’s child?
Hiding her face,
A child in the wild.
Out of place.

- Arya

Agree? Don’t agree?… Let me know. :)


Music’s been a huge part of my life.. So, I decided to write about it. :)

The tiny whispers in my ear –
They keep me going.
The spells cast by black and white
Show me there’s magic still!

A pulled strings comforting words:
Answers to my unsaid prayers.
The constant beats, rhythm’s friends,
Steady those of my stuttering heart.

My life’s highs and lows..
Mirrored by tender notes.
Lips to wood. Dancing fingers.
A song in the wind. A smile on my lips.

A bow dragged over strings
Gives me the songs of my soul!
A bridge built with only words.
Fingerprints grazed the railings of symphonies.

As the soulful strains put me to sleep,
The words give me courage to wake up again.
They hold my hands. On either side
As they help me find my way.

- Arya


It's been a long, long time since I last posted. I’ve been a little busy and more than a little lazy. ;) Anyway, this is what I wrote last week..

A moving picture the waters lent.
Mind in the past; eyes on the present.
The face that looks back at him quails.
Years ago, a ship stretched her sails.

Little did her men know
About the stowaway below.
He was holding back tears
While fighting his fears.

A blessing. A kiss on his head.
‘I love you. Be brave,’ she had said. He’d never become a slave like her.
‘Mother,’ was the eight-year-old’s whisper.

His life sculpted by what he’d heard
In the darkness, those whispered words.
He would, after decades of being brave,
Meet the reason he was saved.

He moves away from the water’s edge,
Leaves his favorite ledge,
To see someone he barely knew
But should’ve known all his life…She was new.

To meet his mother, he’s on his way.
Today’s not just any other day.
The chocolate-coloured skin matches his
As he puts her ring to his lips.

- Arya

This poem wouldn’t have been written if a friend of mine hadn’t given me the prompt ‘Reflection’. Thank you! Straight away, a picture of a man staring at his image and thinking about his past filled my head. That is what this poem is about. A man returns to his mother. She had sent him away to save him and now, he is going to meet her. It is his turn to save her. But, he is not alone. :)

The Circle of Love

What had been a six foot frame
Was bent over a blue-black cane.
Metal strangled by wrinkled fingers.
The other hand securely held tiny fingers!
Old, gray eyes met bright, honey-coloured ones
Turned alive, as they were once.
But, ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ said the broken mast.
The ship of joy was sinking. Sinking fast.

Long, graceful fingers snapped the golden thread.
A perfect murder. No evidence; not a shred!
She smiled to herself, having thrown apart
Two souls who could never be apart.
From her rocking chair, Time blew out the warm fire.
And left to warm her hands over the blazing pyre!

Years after, he lay thinking of those joyful days
With chest constricted; Helpless under those blinding rays,
Yearning to travel into the past, in Time’s carriage-
To change history; to rip from her story, a page!
To feel his hands in those hands again;
To feel that love yet again.
Little hands on his chest brought him back.
Back to the present, where he could feel their lack.
He saw his son run to his father.
Grandson to grandfather.

- Arya

Walk Away

This is what (I think) Abhimanyu’s words to Mukthi will be if he writes her something. Yes, I have some explaining to do. Abhimanyu and Mukti are characters from the Hindi serial, Kaisi Yeh Yaariyan.

Escaped sympathy’s scalding waters
That poured down like a monsoon night’s rain.
Unable to see her face in pain,
My life for a lie, I bartered.

To smile, I taught,
While mine remained.
Yours, like a rain in the drought.
But I kept a secret – I was maimed.

I never thought, that smile, I’d love.
I never thought my love I’d hide.
‘Cause only pain I meant to hide. And I never meant to fall in love.

I’d hate to wipe that smile away.
So, I have to walk away.
I just don’t see another way.
No destination.Just a way.

- Arya

A friend of mine, a great story teller, watches this serial and narrates the story to a group of friends. And yes, I am a part of that group..

The character, Abhimanyu, is someone every single person would want to befriend. His story seemed like something I’d write about. So, I decided to go on and do it.

A possible spoiler alert, maybe?

This poem spans the period of time from a few days before Abimanyu leaves home (when he realizes he is sick) to when he disappears from the hospital.

Another Man's Son

He walked alone.
Wind. Snow. Rain. Sun.
To his father, the only son.
Did it matter if the earth stood still or spun?

He walked alone,
His handsome face marred by a frown,
Bricks of grief weighing him down.
Should he swim, or simply drown?

He walked alone.
‘Son’, his father refused to call him. The aura of love around him, dimmed.
In his eyes, anguished tears brimmed.

He walked alone.
Cursed because he loved another?!
Home, he knew no other!
Forsaken by his own mother.

He walked alone.
As grief left his lashes wet,
He swore he’d never forget
Happiness was in his debt.

He walked alone.
Assured that no one understood this –
The choice had never been his!
Wrath, would he willingly kiss?

He walked alone.
Wind. Snow. Rain. Sun.
He walked alone.
Because he loved another man’s son.

- Arya

As long as there is enough love in the world, does it really matter who you love?

Honestly, I'm nice !

Being honest and being nice, the way I see it, are two completely different things that hardly ever overlap.

You are nice to people you like. You are nice to people when you don’t want them to hate you. You are nice to people maybe because you are a nice person. (At least, that’s what you believe.) But, you must know that honesty keeps you from hating people.

People you love might have a few habits – might do a few things – that you hate. Hide these little things, and one day you might wake up to the realization that, the people you once could not live without are now the ones you cannot live with! All those things that you had swept to a corner of your mind, in favour of being nice, might flood your mind and leave you with nothing but resentment.

Would the people who love you be offended if you prefer honesty to niceness? Would you want the people who love you to suffer silently by not hurting your feelings with the truth?

These people would probably want to know what you think and not what any random nice stranger would!

Possibly, the only time when you can be both honest and nice is when you don’t have to work on either.

I thought, at the end of each post, I’ll share what made me want to write on that particular theme.

For this post, it is “Dr. Wilson’s failed marriages”; yes, the television series character. Dr. James Wilson of House M.D.

Dream !

She stretched and yawned,
And opened her eyes to the faint light of dawn,
Her shimmering wings the same hue
As the sky – the same blue.

‘twas a world she knew not. A land where no wars were fought!
Only to write on was paper,
Not incentive for a gambler.

While, towards the sun she soared,
Below, she saw daughters being adored.
Every child was blessed to be lettered.
Not a single family, beggared!

She walked slowly, awed to feel
No fear in men for their next meal!
He was oblivious to greed.
No hatred to make him bleed.

Her eyes filled up with grateful tears
On hearing, not for nuptial vows, were early years;
Neither were they for tasting abuse.
No nestling raised by the likes of cuckoos.

As in the green shade she knelt,
Happiness, she, more than saw, felt
Here, unheard of was anger!
The sweet smell of peace would always linger..

What she witnessed had her anchored!
‘Murder’ was not a word. Guilt, a novel emotion.
Life on earth had attained completion.

A whisper of feet. She looked up and said,
To the magnificent creature standing with wings spread,
“Mother, was it a dream? The world not falling apart at the seams?”
Never before had such a sad smile been worn!
To her daughter, it seemed like she was being torn.
The words came slow and choked;
Pain and sorrow were uncloaked…

“It was a dream. A dream of the past. A dream of the world that never did last!”
Curious eyes met the grief filled ones,
“Can it breathe again, as it did once?”

A battle raged between hope and sorrow.
Sorrow bowed down low.
‘twas hope that gave the answer, “It can, with Love – the enchanted elixir.” But sorrow, again, ended up above,
“Is man capable of such unadulterated love?”

- Arya