The furnace….

No, it isn’t ours
They told the Goddess….
And thus retraced their steps,
Away from the furnace.

They devoured childhood,
Innocence and depravity.
Their smiles belittled…..
All vicious and hedonist profanity.

Till adulthood crept
With silent fangs….
And hissed away
All cheer and pangs.

Now they did not crave
For trees and blossoms
Or kites galore….

The Goddess ventured
To peep into their souls once more

She offered them derision,
Despise and rebellion.

They said it was theirs
To own, possess…..
To feed the raging fire
To blaze the furnace…..

– Shalini.



She will not disappear into nothingness…

Her new found glory,

Is here to stay…


She will not just be,

A beautiful rose,

In the pathway around your dwelling…


She will not just be yours,

To fondle and love,


She will be the brightest moon

In the dark, night sky

The blazing Sun,

In the cold, winter morning…


She will be,

The mast,

The anchor,

The pivot…


She will be…

The air that you breathe…….



A chance encounter……

Upon a chance encounter,

A secret hermitage,

Astounding calm,

Despite the seething rage.


She warily looks within,

Like the subtle moon….

And stands besotted

As if in a swoon……


For inside the thatch,

She discovers another self–

Bent in prayer

A divine smile,

Cocooned in a shelf.


Is this her second being,

Long lost and forlorn….

Is this where she had been

Through trials and storms……


The hermitage was hers

And she had never known

Raging battles in the wild,

That is how she had grown.


She can sit beside the other self,

And pray a little awhile–

For tempests to surrender

And till the rainbow would smile.


Upon a chance encounter

This secret hermitage,

She would return to again

Because she now knows the way

Full well….

Among the wilds and the rain.




Let us, for once

be everything but Uniform….

Let us, for once,

Look into each other’s eyes

and break every norm……


I have walked in queues,

And fought in squadrons….

I have withheld all love

Looking around for patrons……


Uniform and substantial,

Full of acceptance,

I have denied all caress…..

Looking for substance.


Let me for once,

Look into your heart….

Let me not pretend,

Be  unhindered and stark.


Let me not be uniform,

Let me step out of line….

Let me look into your eyes,

Deep and sublime.





The storm…..

No, not yet.

I shall not reel under the pressure. The winds are cold, they bite into the very entrails……yet I hold on. The mast on my tiny ship seems to bend and stoop…..and I’m angry at it. There are others I have to feed, many who depend on the hope I nourish within. I have to stand tall and I have to stand erect. I have a ship to steer, a mast to hold on to in the storm, a sail to mend every time the storm ravages it.

No, I am not going back from here. To keep intact my sanity, I look up at the sky, then at the few smiling faces at the other end of the ship……….Oh, I’m stronger than them.

I swell with pride, I am their reason to smile.

As for me, I have to hold tight lest the storm gets the better of us. This storm outside is better than the one that rages inside……inside, yes, I dare not look there.

To admit, to confess, to go deep down into my tormented soul needs courage.

Because the concentric layers would unfold a tsunami……..impossible for any enormous and well managed ship to bear.

But here it is my ship I talk about, that has been tossed into the wild wild sea, where fathoms below lies a web of spirits, waiting to gobble us up the moment we sink a little.

Hence I write this while the harsh unruly breeze rummages through my rough hair.Just so that I know later when the storm has died that I had held on firmly, alone and strategically tough.


via Daily Prompt: Distant

It is a wonder how our lives transform every waking day. The changes are obstructed from our sight and senses.This is a very powerful word and could mean the world to a receptive soul or mean nothing to a carefree spirit. When we walk in the realms of life, its prismatic views and images, we are confronted with a myriad of emotions. Some of these leave an indelible mark, forever etch themselves on our souls.

It is like you leaped into the sea and got so carried over with feverish strokes that you had no time to ponder how far you are from the shore. Only when you pause for breath in between, you realise that the shore is so far away. And you get that sinking feeling. You wonder if you could make it back to the shore with the same rhythm and energy. No, you cannot. You do swim back, full of lethargy and the loss you have been feeling. You return back to a different stretch of the shore and lie down heaving heavily, gasping for breath.

Now, imagine a relationship where you have swum with similar ease and dexterity. You are so much engrossed in going deeper each day that you don’t realise how the crutch has disabled you from walking on your own. Very soon, as the crutch is removed, you feel distant and this word hits you in all magnanimity.

And as you struggle each day to stand on your own, this word becomes so much a part of your system that you inadvertently derive infinite strength from it. This word becomes your elixir and you like a phoenix, emerge from the debris, scarred, renewed…….’distant’.



She is all this,
And she is more

The forest,
That lays bare beneath her feet;
With dense undergrowth
And the clear patch.

She has been the wild creeper
And the nonchalant drooping bough.

The clear path
And the uneven pebbled road.

She has been this forest
Sometimes unyielding,

Do we?

Did the Sun get to know?

When the Sunflower turned away

Even when

It continued to brighten up

Every alley, every day……..


Did the wind get to know,

When the resilient tree stood still

Even when

It blew mighty strong

Through every forest, every hill…….


Did the rain get to know,

How a sparrow was undrenched

Even when

It showered so profund

That every heart was flooded……


Do we,

In all the love we spread…….

Ever ponder,

On what was left undone

Which could have,

Blossomed, drenched or swayed

A thirsty soul yonder……..

The sky or the mist…..


And does her world end

Or does it begin here?

How is she to discern,

If it is the sky

Or the mist

She hides within the urn……


So she walks on-

Careful, not to stumble.


But this time she is sure

That she full well knows her way through

The deepest of the jungle,

Through every single lure…….


Voices, loud and clear

Music from distant shores.

A something stops in the track,

Holds her eye……

Till she turns away-

There are tracks galore……..



And is this the start,

Where all else ends?

And is this the threshold,

Where angels meet fiends?


She questions rapidly…..

And continues her charms-

On all that is denied,

To her tiny palms


Maybe this cloud ;

Is the one, she can

Mount and ride.


Maybe this dewdrop;

She can touch

And bathe awhile.


Maybe this time;

The moon,

Would let her

Be the shine….


Maybe, maybe…..

This one time she could be

The finest morning light…….

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