The scar on the little flower.

Let me go, uncle.

It hurts and haunts.

I don’t like it.

I don’t know what you are doing to me.

But I know it is not right.

Let me go, uncle.

Can’t you hear me cry?

For the pain and fear grips me hard.

I don’t like it when you touch me this way.

Papa or bhaiyya don’t do this with me.

Let me go, uncle.

Your threats scare me.

As much as the thought that mama will hate me.

But I want to tell her I’m not bad.

I am not bad, am I?

Let me go, uncle.

I don’t know if I’m wrong.

Yet I feel ashamed.

And scared. Very scared.

I don’t want this anymore.

Let me go, uncle.

Don’t make me feel weaker.

Don’t make me feel wrong.

Don’t make me cry more.

Don’t make me tremble this way.

Let me go, uncle.

For I struggle within myself.

I’m afraid to tell anyone.

I’m afraid to go out.

I’m afraid to see any one.

Let me go, uncle.

I am like your daughter, ain’t I?

Little and all of 8yrs.

Someday, when I grow up big.

I hope I can forget all this.

Let me go, uncle.

For I think I cant fight more.

I struggle to tell you this.

And beg you to stop.

Let me free, uncle.

The beauty in life after!

The old yellow leaf

Let go from its world,

Floats in the air,

And swings its way down,

To place itself on the grey tomb.

The birds chirp sweetly,

In a sound that is almost music.

The leaves of the dark green trees,

Rustling in the wind,

Makes the place colder.

The loud silence is ending.

The dew drops are drying.

The sun is almost peeping out.

The insects crawl back home.

The breeze sings the hymns.

A beautiful morning.

In the most genuine place ever.

A place that paves way to heaven.

Millions of memories stay reduced in a stone.

The most genuine emotions stay contained in the place.

A place with dried tears of love.

A place where the blessed and the sinned are laid,

To reach the destined place away from the world.

A world of its own.

A life after the life.

After meeting the ultimate truth.

The truth of death.

The one truth that cannot be denied.

The truth that is most true of all.

The truth that one has to accept.

That comes calling the one time.

Most feared, yet it bores beauty to it.

It has to be embraced when its time.

With a smile that says all.

It has to be loved the way one loves life.

It has to be respected for what it is.

The most genuine truth.

The one that makes the world as much as the life.

The one that makes us ponder.

And yearn for love when you wait for it.

The moon and me

Some days, sometimes

There is nothing you can do to feel good.

You know what hurts.

And you know it cannot be changed.

Nor accepted with a smile.

It kills.

Yes, loneliness does that.

It is not about having no one to care.

It is much deeper.

The feeling of wanting something.

And never having it.

A feeling of want becoming a need.

A feeling of the minds closing in.

A feeling of trying to break the walls around,

Built by oneself and the world.

A feeling of not knowing what it is.

A feeling that can only be let out in tears.

And some anger, perhaps.

A feeling that words always fail to express.

Understood by none

Other than the heart in pain.

A feeling that is felt

With some pain, always.

A lonely walker.

Down the lonely road.

Wanting much more and..

Trying to forget the dreams that never came true!

Looking up at the sky of stars

And the one moon.

As lonely as I am.

Happy Birthday Thatha..you would have been 88 today!

Happy Birthday, Thatha.

It might have been so many months past a year,

Well, almost two years; two dark years,

Since you left us.

Yet the grief is the same,

I miss you the same.

It is so hard not to look at your picture,

Into your eyes, that looks so real even now,

So full of love, so unconditional.

I feel so guilty, at times,

When I try hard not to think of you,

Because I know I’ll just break down,

In your thoughts, like right now.

The days when I thought you’ll come back

Are sadly over.

I know you are not coming back.

I’m not going to see you again,

I know, I know that.

You have left us. Forever.

With so many of your memories.

That still inspires me,

And makes me think of you,

With so much pride.

You will be loved, remembered,

And missed, painfully, beyond words.

A flood of tears,

Your Sharmi

The little bird wants to fly!

All I want to do,
Is fly away.
Fly away far.
Alone.
On my own.
And be myself.
Just myself. 

The little grown-up girl..

Bright big eyes,

Faint smile on the lips,

The little girl, 

Growing up every single day,

Spreads her arms wide,

Into the warmth of the sun rays,

Eyes closed in the blinding brightness,

Taking in the freshness of the breeze.

A delicate little heart,

So full of love and forgiveness,

Unconditionally given to everyone around,

Giving the shoulders to all who need,

Brightening up everyone’s day,

With the brave and genuine smile that says all,

The smile that hides a thousand tears,

Carrying some pain that is never shared,

Sunk in the sea of loneliness,

Going to bed each night

With tears and stifled sobs,

Waiting to share with someone who cares,

Living in dreams and fantasies of her own,

Refuses to live within walls of confinement.

She sees the world with a different pair of eyes,

That views all things beautiful,

In a vista so far from others’,

Being shunned for the same, almost always.

Hated for what she is,

Never been understood wholly,

Yearns for just that.

A little love, a little more understanding,

A little care when she cries her heart out.

She still sees life optimistically,

With a lot of belief and trust in her heart,

Holding hope in her hands,

Tightly clenched,

Waiting for miracles to happen,

The change that might come in,

Or just elude her, unsympathetically.

The little grown up girl,

Her arms still stretched out,

To get some love.

A tear or two, drops down the cheeks.

Things are going to be okay, someday.

It will be.

If it is meant to be.